Patterns.

Why won't I ever learn? Why do I have this horrid thing called hope?

Why do I continually poke at that infected hole in my heart? So I can feel?

Fuck all.

I'd abandon everything and become a lesbian, but as it turns out, us women are just as fucked up as those attached to penises.

Yet I keep trudging along, waiting for that mythical knight in shining armor bad boy covered in tattoos with a heart of fucking gold to sweep me off my feet and not fuck me over within a month's timespan.

Next?