Its fairly easy to figure out your type.

I aint sure whether its because the shit you do, or the why you do, but who really gives a fuck.

And yet again ive been reminded

Im the high minded, self righteous, half assed good guy.

Full of wont rather than will.

Im not the "knight in the shining armor" and sure as fuck aint a gentlemen, but when the shit hits the fan...some things just have to be clean, to be right...

Shit, i cant believe im feeling so...im not fucking 16...

And yet whats the fucking point if i cant look myself in the damn mirror?

Thats where you figure youre the good guy type-that when the shit hits the fan your most primal instinct is to do whats right(yeah i know we're a little old to talk about right and wrong, but yknow what? fuck all.If something feels right then it god damn well is right!).

Women dont really like the good guy, he aint exciting, or fuck not...not that i blame them, who can stand them self righteous bastards holding on to decadent ideals rather than their good sense?

They usually seem either gay or mad.

Well, shit's always more complicated than it seems...Im far too blunt, rude, drink and smoke too much shit to be of use to those who, despite everything, like the "good guy" and im far too...dissapointing maybe to those who like the badass.
I think i really strayed from the point...I dont even think there is a point...

I guess im feeling okay with it...being a bitter "good guy" type or, from the other way around, a bastard who surprises everyone.
Makes me feel like a type-ist devil's advocate:)

I remember my words.
Shit, i remember my lopsided and ruggedly handsome smile, and my oh, so serious eyes....

All is fair in love and war.
There are certain situations where there are no rules.
I dont have a god.
Honor is for dead people.

But when push comes to shove i find that there are rules.
There are certain things i will not do...and feel betrayed by others who act upon my words...
People used to ask me how i have such a harsh view on the world and politics and all that philosophical crap, and yet i dont act like it at all....shit i cant remember even if i had an answer.
I half jokingly said once that im a fascist in mind, machiavelist in ways and a pacifist at heart.
Maybe i should juggle it a bit more.
The poisonous question "why" comes to mind.
Am i better than what i think i am?
Am i merely self righteous?
Am i weak?
Afraid of freedom?
Am i letting my emotions override me?

I dont know the reasons.
Maybe reasons really are for peasants (another stover reference).
I cant answer these questions because it really doesnt matter.
This is me.
Thats it.
Maybe i should be more clear when i talk...
There are no rules.
But i have mine.

I modeled for a friend the other day.
Not something serious, he was photographing for school work and the theme was the 7 deadly sins.
I was sloth.
The man in the picture looks so...defeated...
He looks like he has forsaken life, basking in his comfortable defeat.
That man is my nemesis.
He's a man none of us should ever see gazing back in the mirror.
His voice is the whisper from our heart of darkness, the voice that tells us to let things go because of the inevitability of defeat.
He tells us to sit back and let the world roll over us.
Its easy to stand up against him, for his voice is of the still breathing dead.
We can stand up to him because for him there is no hope, no future, no humor, no laughter.
No resistance.
The living have those.
Whenever we give in to that inevitable defeat, whenever the world rolled over us we can resist by the merest of gestures.
Sometimes even a smile is enough.
While we bide our time.

Its been a long time since i held someone...
Shit, im not even sure if i miss her...
Is it being alone?
Or is it because i liked to have her shit in the center of my life?...
Or maybe its because i like it when things go bad.
I always know what to do when things go bad, i can even be happy.
I can only smile through bloody teeth.
But i remember being a happy man, a good boyfriend, great lover...but was it me?
Stover wrote an interpretation for what Kurtz meant when he murmured the horror, the horror- that he was scared to go back to Europe, that the heart of darkness lies at home.
I really understand the feeling.
Its when you dont really know whether you're home or in the jungle.
With the first one it went as far as ECT.
The second...she was a fucking headache...
Is it a hero complex?
Or am i just a masochistic fuck?
People never think of the third option:that i really want peace and quiet.
I keep telling myself that you cant unring the bell, the thing is, its all i want...
Keep feeling that i should have known better, cant stop trying to atone for what happened...
Just how helping others (which isnt really new, its just an act of atonement now i guess...) can fix hurts i only inflict on myself?
The fucked up part, i probably need shit to get worse before i can be complete again.
The problem with being happy...its addictive...hard to let it go...i never learned how...
Always fight to the end, no matter if theres a chance or not.
Live forever, or die trying.
Or is it my low self esteem fueling my fears....?
The kicker is, why the hell would i write such things here, in a dating site?
It gonna play fuckass with my dating chances (and coarse lang never helps).
Could easily write my virtues, my fierce loyalty for friends, that i offer myself completely in relationship and all that crap.
Thing is...what i wrote is far more real.
Virtues are for the knight in the shining armor and ill bet that knights tend to get fucked.
I want love for my sins.
Not for virtues