Fucking Revolutions

So I think it's happening again. No, actually I know it is happening again.

Everything runs in cycles and sometimes it can seriously get tedious and quite annoying for a person who only wants to move forward and never be in the same place twice.

But, everything is a repeat of itself in one form or another which spurns chain reflected chain reactions that feed off of each other. And as much as we try to reason and counter against that very veracity, it is horribly true.

So subsequently, I am back to feeling an all too familiar emotion of clouded and confused sadness that is mixed in with a hurt longing for things that are beyond my grasp. Things that I want out of comfort for my damaged soul.

Two things that I have been craving all too strongly lately.

One:

I compulsively yet unconsciously decided to sort through my childhood last night (or I guess you could say this week and the previous) with the guilty pleasures of entertainments that evoke the warm and fuzzies of nostalgia.

You know, the feeling of the moments where things were just so much simpler and innocent. The more as time passes, the more the reality of knowledge becoming more dangerous to humanity is revealed to be completely valid. The fact that now I am old enough to psychoanalyze myself and the issues that I have been through has allowed me to understand all of my unfortunate past in a way that causes me to settle in an entirely grey culmination of this dark and twisty place that I have let fully consume me.

It is completely contradictory.
I have been having the strong desire of wanting to have my childhood back. I have been wanting to return back to the time when I wasn't capable of understanding the detriment that I had be unknowingly subjected to.

Yes, I have had the desire to go back into the past. But then I realize the occurrences that have happened are not really quite pleasant and desirable.

It is really the ignorance and obliviousness that I crave rather than the hurtful mental and emotional altering events that have passed.

I don't really think I want my childhood back as I may seemed to have thought, but I do want the times where I wasn't so aware of my own dreary existence and distorted torment.

Two:
I really crave real love. You know, the unconditional kind.

I've said it before, and I bet I will probably keep saying it until it becomes true. Though sadly, I fear that it never will find lasting happiness and that I really will end up like those crazy single 40 year old women who drown themselves in their own bereavement with alcohol, books, and self mutilation. (Oh wait, don't I already do that?)

As pathetic as I feel when I admit things such as this, at night I crave arms that will engulf me entirely so that the void I feel in my chest will fill up with hope and happiness rather than send me through the cycles of despair I seem to can't help but be attracted to.

I want the dream. I want perfection. I want the perfect man. I want it all.

I really am quite sick of my depressing eternal reflexive cycle of dissatisfied life I am so utterly stuck in. Even talking about it seems to be self-irritating. Cheers motherfuckers.