I suck at life.
I suck at Math. I suck at typing, I suck at making friends, I suck at being friends, I suck at music, I suck at humor, I suck at love, I suck at sports. I suck at being myself, but that's good because who I really am sucks so much.
I drink so much and I smoke so many drugs because they help me numb out the suck.
There's nothing I'm good at. Maybe like, grammar and drinking pepsi. I cannot think of a single thing I can do better than anyone else. I was trying to think of things I'm good at on my ride home, as some sort of feeble attempt to make myself feel better, and the only thing I came up with was: "I'm good at being perenially god-awful at everything." I'm the fucking Tampa Bay Devil Rays personified. I thought of driving my fucking shitbox of a car into a telephone pole, because I would own at that. I'd hit it so fast and square that the the guys on the scene would be like: "That motherfucker creamed that thing. Thirty years as a coroner, never seen anything like it."
At that would be the story of me.

Here lies Matt Ling
(1982-2006)
Motherfucker Owned at Hitting Poles with Cars.

I'm going to the hospital or at least a clinic in the morning, so if you don't see me for a while, that's why. It's won't be because I drove my car into a pole. Even if that would probably be the most badass tombstone ever.

After two pitchers and half a quart of whiskey the Wave was almost fun.
Almost.
At least I didn't get into any fights or fall out of any trees.

All that really needs to be said about my Saturday night is that I threw up in the smoking room at the legion.
HA.

I remember when things were so much simpler. We would speak on the phone for hours on end, discussing our days, our families, our ideals, our hopes and dreams. Despite our genders, there was no latent sexuality or hidden meaning to what we were saying. We could say what we wanted and expected the other to do the same. It was like having a therapist for a best friend when I needed both. She would read her poems to me as I would dream of her long blonde hair or she would call me from the bathtub and we'd count the freckles on her legs. It was the purest love I've ever felt. But at a time when our lives were at their quickest, it ended. She had lofty goals of popularity, and I was content to stay the way things were. I imagine she finally realized she was too good for me. But we grew up through each other and that's something I'll never forget.
Part of me will always wonder how she's doing. If she ever did achieve those fantastic dreams we discussed, if she would still marry me and live in a huge log cabin with our three kids. I wonder how and if she's changed, I wonder if life has jaded her incredible spirit, like it has mine. I wonder if she could help me get mine back.
I miss those times when things were simple.

Things I discovered on Tuesday night:

-Jumping off the the steep side is far more fun than walking down the steady side.
-Taking a full pack of cigs to the bar is a bad idea, you will lose them.
-No matter how cool people are on the internet, it's always better to meet in person.
-Drugs are a great conversation starter.
-Sure, it may suck to wake up on the floor in a hallway, but it beats the fuck out of sleeping in your car.
-Valentines is hella more fun single. (And cheaper!)

So I've meen thinking a lot lately about how little I would have to offer in the context of any type of romantic relationship. I'm not really looking for one, so it's not a big deal, but that's not to say I wouldn't be open for the right one.
That said, I'm poor, overweight, and I'm not overly attractive so "the right one" may be a long time coming.
I've spent such a large portion of my life coupled up, that it feels kinda weird being "the single guy". That's not to say I don't like it, it's just different. I'm looking at things from a completely different persective nowadays. Though I am happy to be able to stand tall on my own, but I often feel outcast in certain social circles, and it does suck sometimes not to have somebody I can share everything with (which is likely why I started writing here again).
It's been really hard to write what's in my head tonight. I'm trying my best not to be whiney or self depreciating, so if it comes across as that, I apologize. There are just quite a few things about myself that I don't like, namely my life in general and where it's going. I totally need a change of pace post haste. A reader questioned me about my "I want a girl I have to change for" post. What I meant was that I 'm so set in my ways that I want someone who loves me for who I am, but sees (and brings out) the greater depth and overall better person that I can feel in myself. The post was more about ameliorating myself rather than being in a reationship.
My next best (and entirely better) plan is to move. Get far off of Prince Edward Island, make mad bank, get into shape, get my shit in gear, become and come back a brand new (but essentially the same) person.
Sounds good eh? It's that last one that may be the kicker though.
Wish me luck.