THE FALSE SYNAPSE REARS IT'S UGLY HEAD, ONCE AGAIN.

Chocolate. Chocolate is that thing that gives you the feeling that it just might work this time. I mean, she came after you. She said all the right things. She's a looker. So this white chocolate hooker, I mean, well whatever. She swooped in, played with my emotions, then went fucking bananas. She was probably already bananas, I was just too blinded by the light to recognize it. 

I want this shit to stop. I don't want to be blinded. I want my eyes to be wide open. I don't want to keep hoping. I want to keep living. I am no longer looking. It's futile, exhausting, and rather lame.