it's still as a graveyard, if it's so hard why do i keep on trying?

What does one do in a situation such as this?

Listen to faggy sad-sack music. The Mountain Goats. Anais Mitchell and Rachel Ries' Country EP.

Drink. Swim. Turn brown, shade by shade.

Add to my literary arsenal.

Read about the dangers of charm and persistence. Charm is a verb, not a noun.

Read about red shoes and blue beards and gilded carriages.

I can't say, "His beard is not so blue." Not anymore.

There are inner cultures as well as outer cultures. They behave remarkably alike.

I can let go, though. Let the poison-filled balloons rise into the sky, upward into the dark where they will burst and burn up in the atmosphere.

"There is no right time or wrong time... It's just that sooner hurts less than later."