There is no Honor is being the outcast.

when I look with an honest vision, and i see those that have mattered to me...The few that have truly mattered to me.... are doing better without your romantic influence, it's heartbreaking. you try not to think about it. you push it out of your mind with whatever forces you can muster: mine being rage and anger, and maybe, sometimes it works. you stop thinking about it and it stops bothering you. but that's only for the ones who didn't mean much. the ones that did.... well, that's another matter.

You think about all the little things that mattered. and the things that didn't but should have. you try to tell yourself you did all you could. but there's doubt and uncertainty. so, you fight. you fight to the bitter fucking end, and in the end... it will not matter. hate is your weapon, and Anger your shield. and you can destroy ANYTHING. but in this war, they're useless. No matter how big and tough and willing to do whatever it takes to save this, you've already lost against an enemy that no matter how superior your forces are, they've got what matters, whatever that may be, and you don't.

you fight, still. because this means something. while lost on anyone else, this is very real and tangible and there are extreme consequences if you lose this. you're too stubborn or too stupid or too blind to see it any other amicable way.

This path, no matter how right you may feel about it, leads only to one outcome: Exile.

No longer welcome in any sense, you sear with rage unleashed. Cast out from everything you have sacrificed so much for, you nurse a cold bitterness in the pit of your stomach, fed by alcohol and smoke and regret. Soon it takes over the most vulnerable organ: your heart. it becomes poisoned, envenomed to the point that you no longer want love and joy and all that bullshit that everyone else seems to be having and loving and living. you just want to seethe over tattered memories as you return to all that you once were and hate, hanging on day to day by bare threads in a world that turned it's back on you, and so you turned yours on it.

And while you drink deep from the waters of Hatred, you can't help but to notice just over the lip of the bowl... how better they have done without you. a new promotion, a new love, a life ahead of them that they couldn't imagine anything else.

Maybe you were the cancer all along. how does that feel? to be the tumor to those you Loved so very much? So you Drink more. Quaffing and gulping down that fire that does no good, but is all that can sustain you in these times. Emotions, at least the good ones, like love and whatnot, are luxuries you can no longer afford.

Nobody's gonna save you.

No one's riding up and saying you were the one all along.

It really is you against the world.

And they, despite your best attempts... are winning.



There is no Romance in being the Outcast.