A visit to the darkside

I'm feeling a little more awake now...

Lately,my mind has been burdened with self reflection and constant analysis.
I find myself longing the days of past. As I sit here, obsessed with my newest skin infliction due to this medication intended to treat an alternate skin predator, I wash my face with the medicated scented Noxema Pads. The alcohol smell tinged with the facial cleanser scent, penetrated my nostrils, instantly enticing visions of a tribal luncheon routine developed during the days of my tenure with a small factory in an even smaller town. Mandi, the like-minded blond that I formed a strong attachment to through days spent ignoring the needs of Verizon customers clinging to the hopes that we will grace them with out undivided attention through curly black lines, sits with me in my sandstone 2001 Chevy Cavaliar. As we sit there, trying to salvage our youthful skin from the havoc's of grease haven factory, we thoroughly cleanse our face with this same brand of facial pads. Our talks of leaving this life of strife and stress to become successful drug dealers motivates our return to the well coined, 'Hell Pit.'

Amanda and I, we share a similar soul, a strangely burdened soul. We realized our bond through drunken nights of dangerous driving and intensely, passionate moments with the man of the hour. There was a loneliness that could not be fulfilled for either of us, as we came to realize that men were the toys on our playground. Silly little men, would do anything for a taste of the sacred fruit. How tantalizing they were in our hands, the silly putty that conformed to the surface we presented them. We held the keys to our hearts, keeping it locked off from their petty desires. We were safe from the perils of a broken heart, or so it appeared at the moment.

As time has progressed, we have both entertained the notion of falling in love with the puppet of the hour. Sometimes it seemed successful. "This is the one. He's my soul mate." The storyline doesn't change, he's still the same cloned male that every man before him has already fulfilled. The cycle fails to halt, there is no break in the systematic continum of sex and heartbreak. Left alone, crying, heartbroken, is there even the possibility of the this whimsical concept of a soul mate or are we chasing a cinema driven ideology on what to expect in a relationship?

I'm prone to feel that I'm just not good enough for any man past the extent of demeaning sexual acts. That is a diagnosis that I must come to terms with.