a little late night self pity

Little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth.
For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures,
and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.

-Francis Bacon

i'm tired of riding this merry-go-round. i think i want off. i'm tired of standing here, watching you go round. i think i want on. why is it that misery must outlast love? yes, i'm indulging in a little late night self pity because as far as indulgences go, at least it won't make me gain weight. somewhere, she has written me off and is smiling.