moving on

I wish I knew how to make it stick. Or that I didn't care. Everything and everyone moves on. Or almost everyone.
None of this will matter. What matters is out of reach and needs nothing from me. If I get the joke, fine. If not, no loss. Move on. How do they do it? How was I doing it and why is it so easy to stop me?
What hurts the most is being mocked by the knowledge that even in those few sweet moments when I was doing it right, it wasn't that big a deal. The thing I lusted after without reservation, to be good and right and wise, that I was convinced that it couldn't be wrong to lust after, and it's no big deal when I get there. There's nothing better, plenty worse, and nothing is ever enough.
It is not okay to need people or desire anything at all. It is not okay. It leads nowhere. The joy only makes the pain more intolerable, and even writing that is terrifying because I still want the joy. I, I, I. What a whore.
I don't want to believe that I matter again unless it will last. I would kill not to ever care about mattering again.
I am and have been very bad. Please forgive me, but know that I cannot make myself better. No excuses.