useless

i'm not even allowed to believe that i'm just one more selfish son of a bitch. i try, believe me - it's a sort of comforting thought, as weird as it might seem to be. but no, i'm not allowed that. it happened quite often recently: i got in touch with someone, and i wanted so badly to talk about myself. i needed to have someone listening to my illusions and delusions, to my dreams and sorrows, to the things that make me sad and the things that make me... sad (joy took some holidays, apparently). and yet i end up listening, supporting, hinting at something that no one cares about. it's funny, isn't it?