You ever wonder about an ex girlfriend, and what has become of her life? Not in an obsessive, creepy, hide-and-jack-off in the bushes sort of way. Like you hadn't thought about her in some time, you can't remember the last time she even crossed your mind, then one day you get drunk and look her up on myspace or you call a mutual friend just to find out some juicy details? No? Well, fuck you then.
But that's what's happening with me right now.
I just dropped in here to see what has become of the blog section since I left it, and to use the above analogy, this bitch got fat, ugly and lonely. She doesn't get laid anymore, and her snatch probably smells like rotting cheese and festering decay. The bitch gets drunk by herself and sings karaoke at the bowling alley, then passes out in the dumpster after she gives head to the homeless guy out back. This blog section is embarrassing. Randy Orton workout? Copy pasta news stories? Come on.
When I first left I missed this place. I spent a lot of time here, and I was really torn over whether to leave or not. That shit can always be debated, that argument has been had, and there's no point in dwelling on it any longer. My point is that I don't miss this place anymore. I no longer have a desire to come in here, except for an occasional morbid curiosity to see what has become of my former stomping grounds. Things change, time heals, and then life goes on. The only thing that is consistent in life is inconsistency. Nothing lasts forever.
I'm not judging anyone who still posts here. Actually it's a good thing if you still try. Maybe someday it'll be as great a place for you as it was for me. So, spare me the smart ass comments, and go fuck yourself if you post a comment berating me for declaring my new found detachment for this place. Just because I have moved on doesn't mean this blog section can't be as useful to someone else as it was for me. It just may take a little time.
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on Earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection can not be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
-W. H. Auden