Entitled...

If I asked you a simple question, how honest could you be with yourself? Are you ready for that question? Alright.

What do you deserve?

That's it. There are no more clues or hints to it. 

What do you deserve? 

Your friends will say you deserve the best. You don't deserve the bad things that happen to you. You deserve good things to happen to you because you're a good person. And that can be true, but wouldn't your enemies object pretty hard to that?
I don't know if you deserve "better" than what you're getting, but I know that you deserve what you work for. A lot of people automatically think that when someone does something bad to them, like cheating on them, or eating all of the bag fries, that they deserve the exact opposite of that, if they've done nothing wrong. And sure, a lot of you deserve a bag fry or two, but what have you done to get them all. You may not deserve to be cheated on, but what have you done to prove you're worth being exclusive to?
The worst kind of person is the person who believes that just existing is enough to warrant the best from other people. I have yet to encounter a woman who was cute enough in the face, or sexy enough in the body, or rich enough in the bank account for it to no longer matter how they treated other people. This situation has always been in the back of my mind when it came to dating. The balance of power from men to women is always so far off, and not being at least a 7 on the 0-10 rating scale makes it even worse. In most developed countries, dating goes as such:
Man likes woman, man asks woman out on date.
Woman likes man. Woman signals man to ask her out on date in every way except words.
Man and woman go out on date.
Man provides transportation
Man is funny
Man is entertaining
Man picks fun place to go
Man pays for meal-               GO - NO GO
Man seeks to split check       GO - NO GO

At the end of these exasperating dates, one of a few things happens. Either they hit it off so well, and the man was so charming that they go back to a set location and....

Or he did well, but not well enough...

Or he didn't do well and... well, nothing. This situation may vary, but the majority of the time, that's what you get. This is how it works for average looking guys. Of course, if you look like Chris Evans, the world might look a little different for you. I've always been bothered by this offset because I've always known what it was that I had to offer the world. I'm a writer, I'm an artist, I'm a poet. I'm funny, I'm interesting, I'm open-minded. And I had to lay this ALL out on the table for women to deem worthy and unworthy, only to find out later, that she's this boring, closed-minded idiot, and I've just wasted time and money on yet another dead end.
"But it's a buyers market," they would tell me, "and you have to play by their rules." This infuriated me. But it was true. These guys were delivering for free while I sat in the restaurant hoping for someone to come outside in this snow storm. I know that I have a lot to offer, and that life's unfair when you're less than rich and just under beautiful. But all we can hope for is that one day, we meet that special someone who is ready to work for everything that you think that they deserve.

Sock Diaries...: 1/11/2015

I have absolutely no idea why sad people drink. Every time I drink when I'm in a bad mood, everything is worse. I can't focus for more than 30 seconds on one thing at a time. It's like a long version of Flowers for Algernon. If you haven't read that short story, you should. It's amazing. Anyway, in case you haven't gathered from the first couple of seconds, I feel like poop right now. Not exactly as poetic as my last entry, but whatever. Throughout my entire life, women have been at least 85% of my thought process. I used to think that figuring out the mystery to having someone to call my own would fill in all of the emptiness and fix all of my problems. But now that it's not so complicated, and I see that it won't fix anything, I feel myself at a loss for what I'm supposed to be looking for now. I got the closure I thought I needed. I got the attention and the affection, and somehow I wasn't happy. I have no fucking idea what I'm doing. I just know that there's this girl...
Maybe I need to go home for a while. Maybe I should stop publishing all of my personal thoughts to the internet for anyone to read.

Sock Diaries...: 1/3/2015

He looked into her eyes, and wanted to give her everything that she had ever wanted. He wanted to make sure that no tear ever reached her chin, and that her brow never furrowed. When she felt lonely, he wanted to be there to hold her. To kiss her hair, to be her hero. Because he was a man. It was his duty. To be the one who comforts, who protects, who saves. But the deeper reality of his desires for her were that when he felt weak, he would be held.

The small boy dreamed of never needing to be held, like he needs now. He needs someone to tell him that everything is going to be alright. He needs someone to tell him that he's smart, and handsome, and loved. There were so many nights when that small boy looked up at the starry sky through teary eyes and wondered if anything he ever did would be enough. Enough to be remembered, enough to be loved... enough to not feel so small. Enough for all those pretty girls to rue the day they called him ugly, enough for all those strong boys to wish they were like him, and not the other way around.
"Look what I drew!" He said, proudly. "Look at this poem I wrote!" he beamed.
"Not right now," they replied. And so he took his work to everyone else. He showed anyone who would look, and spoke to anyone who would listen. "You're so talented, so creative, so intelligent," they told him. And he wasn't alone. When he was with them, he was never alone. Until he went home.
"I want to help people," he said.
"How?" they would ask.
"I don't know. Any way I can." he would reply. He knew they wouldn't take him seriously if he told him the truth. He would be a superhero. A real life superhero. And he would stop the bad guys who made people feel... small. No one should ever feel so... weak. So small...
And he would be remembered. People would love him. They would never let him feel alone. He would never feel small. He would never feel weak. Never forgotten.
He would be big and strong. He would look into her eyes, and give her everything she had ever wanted. Because he would be a man. He would be a hero.