Fuck it all in the arse

As each day passes I get the increasing feeling that nobody actually gives a fuck about anyone except themselves, and that perhaps I let people walk over me a little too much. I'm always the first to lend a shoulder to cry on, a fiver to the person in need, an ear for the general complaints. But I'm noticing more and more that this is not as reciprocated as I always thought it was.

I have to just clear things up first. My girls are not included in this. They are my rocks, and without them I would be surely lost. And even though I tend not to ask for the shoulder, the fiver, the ear, I know it would be there if I ever did need/want it.

Unfortunately I perhaps have been a little too generous, and my resources are becoming more and more limited. Not only is it tiresome always being there for everybody, but I have no evidence to show that other people would do the same for me. Even with people I have never met, I seem to care about them, which is absolute bullshit. A point which is becoming evermore clear with every passing second.
I can't seem to decide whether it is other people who have changed, becoming more demanding with their little problems and peeves, or whether it is I, maybe becoming more wise to the ulterior motives and duplicity - or maybe I'm just becoming more cynical with age. It's impossible to tell, and improbable that I will ever know.

This past week has pointed out to me more than ever that there is nothing left for me here. Every few years I go through a phase. Maybe it's boredom, I can't be sure, but I get the urge to change every little thing in my life. I change my hair, my job, it even goes as far as my circle of friends. Unfortunately all of these changes have already been made within the last year and there is nowhere left for me to run. Which is essentially what it all boils down to. Escapism.

The only word I can use to describe my life right now is stale. I open my eyes in the morning, same room. I walk out my front door, same council estate. I go to work, same dead end job. I go out at night, same old assholes frequenting the same old bars drinking the same old whiskey, playing the same old music. I come home drunk, the fight to get my key in the front door, search for the landing light, the old lumpy bed. I could go on and on and on, just like every other damn thing that ceases to change in my life.

I plan to run away. Start afresh. New sights, new smells, new people. My only fear right now is what if those too become stale. Then what do I have left? Come back to my past stale life, stay in the present stale life, or keep running, in the hope that I finally end up somewhere right for me.

So back to my original point. I made a decision this evening. After taking a sip from the same old Jack Daniels, and sitting by the same old phone, waiting for the same old friends (who manage to let me down every time no matter how much I bust my ass to keep them happy) - the same old disappointment. I decided to fuck it all. Why should I always put my neck on the line to make sure that everyone else is happy, when no other fucker can bother their arse for me? I always have this front, this bravado, this act like I don't give a fuck. Maybe I don't care. Maybe I care too much. Yet another thing I can never be sure of.

Kears once said to me that most writers have a fear of leaving their work unconcluded, and that I have a tendency to leave my work in it's unfinished state. I agree to a certain extent. But I also disagree. In this world I really find it hard to be certain of anything at all. You never know what is going to happen from day to day. So maybe my disconlcusion, is actually a conclusion in disguise. My lack of being able to finish things off, is simply just because I don't believe you can ever conclude anything. It's like the eternal search for happiness. When you finally achieve true happiness, what have you left to strive for? What have you got left to work towards when you've achieved all your goals? (and yes I do realise I may have just made a few words up there, but fuck that too).

If only I could figure out what it is I am striving for in the first place, then I'd perhaps know where it is I am heading.