So in this life, how is it that we assess worth? If it is a function of how we feel about ourselves, then the existence of anyone else is irrelevant. All of our interactions, all the people in our lives who we have shined light on or rained down on, all of this is of no consequence. But then, since when does anything else in the world get to set its own worth? It seems a bit masturbatory; the idea that worth as a function of discovering self worth. Anyone that has a high self worth, has just spent a lot of time jerking off their ego. So then, what is worth? Where does it come from? Certainly the answer isn’t the world as a whole right. Society as a whole certainly cannot be the voice that determines the individual’s worth. Society is too flighty and flakey; too indecisive to be entreated with this task. So maybe it’s somewhere in between. Maybe we have some indirect control over it. We don’t get to jack off till we blow our moral self important load into the world, but we are also not at the mercy of a society that is so fucked in the head itself, that it has no business determining anything. Perhaps worth is determined by the people we ourselves assign worth to. The people we love. It would make sense that these are the people who determine our worth. This method for determining worth makes the most sense to me. So here I am. I love her with all my heart. My soul knows no light without her. And to her, I am of no worth. If I mattered at all, then she would have considered me. Would have considered my feelings. Considered what it meant to make that choice. I am dying. My soul is caving in on itself. I look at her and all that there is betrayal. I look in her eyes and they are the same eyes she looked up at him with. I touch her hands and they are the same hands she touched him with. Her legs are the same ones she spread for him. I kiss her lips and they are the same lips that she cried out with, “FUCK ME! YEAH! GET IT! CUM IN MY PUSSY! FILL ME UP! FUCK ME!” All that there is is disloyalty. All that there is is hate and disdain. Any claim that there exists anything that even comes close to resembling love is a lie. I am, in her eyes, so unworthy of love. So unworthy of common courtesy. I love her. I would give my life for her. I guess I have. I am no longer alive. I am hollow. A shell of a person who once lived. Once breathed. Once felt something other than only pain. To love someone the way that I have loved her, and to have her claim to love me in that way, only to turn around and rape my heart, I am clearly of little worth. My love means nothing. My love is a joke that she gets to laugh at while her ankles are over her head. Kiss me and leave me to go fuck him. Judas, must you betray me with a kiss. Wait. Make no mistake. I do not consider myself to be a Jesus. I am unworthy of the name I keep now, so to call myself Jesus would be laughable. But her. She is Judas. But I, in loving her, have bestowed upon her the privilege of determining my worth and I have been found to be worth nothing. And so here we are. And I’ll live out the rest of my life a shell of a person who might once have been someone one day.

So here is the first verse and chorus of a song I started writing tonight. Let me know what you think so far. Beeger, that means you. I know you're the only one listening.

Verse I
Its four o'clock in the morning
And I have nothing to go home to
A bed can still be empty
Full of unrequited love

Its four o'clock in the morning
And I have nothing to hold on to
But this slowly burning cigarette
And memories of what was

Chorus
And I think she thinks she loves me
But doesn't understand
Loves not the path of least resistance
Not some prepubescent trend

And the cigarette, it burns
Smoke swirling from the end
My passive aggressive suicide
That somehow is never questioned