Love. Why can't it just be bought from vending machines?

Catastrophe follows me around like a stray mutt thinking I have a pastrami sandwich in my pocket, with extra mustard.  Catastrophe seeps into every facet of life like so much cigarette smoke in a cotton sweater.  Catastrophe is that dark stain in a light carpet that is a constant reminder of how stupid you were for leaving your drink on the edge of the table for someone to bump into and knock over.

 

Love is catastrophe.  Love is a broken circuit overloading both contact points.  Love is a plan that never goes right.  Love is a poker hand that always leaves you one card short of winning hand.  Love is a package of chips that gets stuck, pinched tightly between the spiral dispenser and the shelf, where no amount of jarring the machine will free it.

 

Nothing goes right.  Receiving end.  Sending end.  I have someone in love with me, that I cannot return.  I love someone, who I also hate and should have forgot by now.  Now it seems that I have an opportunity to find love with someone in another state... and this would mean turning my entire world upside - a one million bet riding on the flip of a coin, of which you are not allowed to choose the side the coin lands on, or know the outcome.

 

I do'nt know what I'm attempting with this dramatic post.  I guess I just got to get a little of this off my chest.  I'm confused.  Frustrated.  Depressed.  Scared.  Anxious.  I am a bag of emotional bite sized candies that come in different varieties.  I'm a box of jigsaw pieces with the corners missing.  I'm a sudoku puzzle with two 9s in the center box. 

 

Am I sounding emo?  I dunno.  If so, it wasn't my attention.  I'm just letting my mind freewrite.  Maybe I'll make sense of this some day.  Maybe everything will be revealed.  I'm out of gas, so good night.