There's all different type of persons, but one kind that stands out is the type that deliberately chooses to make themselves suffer. The reasons for this are numerous: you want to keep evolving, you want a story to tell, you want to feel...something, anything, you are a masochist and the always lovely, you hate yourself.

It is these people I find myself drawn to. It is them I admire, that are so courageously in the words of sage old Frost, "taking the road less traveled." Maybe this is because I am of that kind. Maybe it validates me to surround myself with such folk, to feel that I'm not alone. If there's one thing we self induced sufferers do take refuge in, it's not being alone in our misery. But yet in most cases we are alone, no matter how many people surround us. The void is there. Perhaps it's the void that craves pain.

where there's smoke

Being retardedly in love is a lot like being in a smokey bar. It may feel good at the time, but it can be very bad for you. You don't notice how detrimental it can be, until the next day when you wake up and smell the stench of cigarettes and aftermath in your clothes and hair. Being out and away from the bar helps you realize what a potent, noxious fog you were under; how you were willingly susceptible to it all, how much you loved it. Only then, after you are free from the bar's intoxicating, smokey clutches, do you realize how much it stinks.