The First Time I Tried to Kill Myself

There's this weird feeling in my head at the moment. Find myself circling around memories or perhaps they're dreams. It's strange to think I've been without a heart for so long. It's strange to think I'm debating with myself the meaning of a romantic relationship and how feasible it is to have one without physical intimacy of any kind and a complete lack of emotional exclusivity. I'm making excuses. Excuses so that I don't have to find myself in the next few years prepping another "Goodbye." Just when you thought you could devalue your life any further amirite?

There was this time when I was truly happy. Or maybe that was another dream. Seems I do that a lot. It's safe to say I'm talking about Anne. She's not here anymore. I gave her the closure she asked for all those years ago. It felt.... Can't say good because that would be a lie and I lie enough to get by in this world to waste it on the one place that can't overtly judge me. Right. Comments are all but disabled because the platform depreciated this version of itself. That's something Squarespace doesn't tell you. Good times. Tangent ended. I grew up without my father. Not sure I'd call it a broken home but then it wasn't exactly conducive to a healthy mental development as I'm sure my backlog will readily exemplify. She was pregnant. She was married too but that didn't seem as important at the time. Love right? Something like that. Still've never met another person like her. Law of averages, it's more likely to be impossible to find two people who are exactly alike. Sure, that's how science works. Tangent two complete. I couldn't destroy it. The family. But I could destroy myself. Become the villain. Seems like every potential relationship I've ever had has ended in such a way. And me without anywhere near the money necessary to fix such a striking character flaw. A world overstock with heroes produces...

I can't keep pretending this is more than what it is but; actually no, let's do that. I've gotten older. More gray hairs keep popping up. Prefer silver to bald so no complaints there. I'm surprised I made it this far to be honest. I'm surprised by a lot of what I seem to be capable of. I was sitting behind my desk looking at the floor of the tent. I was overwhelmed. Such was life over there in the dust. Took it in my hands. Loaded a round, switched it to semi, and put the muzzle to my head. That's out of order. I definitely switched it to semi after placing it against my forehead. Not that it really matters but, meh. Rested my finger on the trigger and slowly started to squeeze. Should've kept the bullet as a reminder.

"Duty first, service always," right? That's surprisingly what snapped me out of it. Tears on my face; that's what brought me back. The fact that I had a mission to complete. How childish must I have been? How weak? Swayed by my duty to my country. I'm surprised I'm still that way for the most part. Paid off my largest debt today. Just three more debts to pay off before I'm completely free. I'm surprised I've gotten here. I'm surprised how long I've remained alone and suffering. I'm surprised that I already have a fleshed out plan for the end. I'm surprised how easy it will be to execute. I'm surprised that just six years ago was the first time I tried to kill myself and that the next time there likely won't be any mission to take me away from it.


010313 "Found/Forgotten"

I’m in a bad way.

My days are filled with longing.

Her beauty sets my heart ablaze.

There could be no better existence.

I’m in a bad way.

I can feel excitement when she enters my gaze.

Where once the dark alone brought solace, her light has taken over.

I’m in a terrible way.

My soul is anxious, awaiting once next our paths cross.

The night’s forever glory are now ever dreary.

Bliss may yet exist if a visit to my dreams is permitted.

I’m in a terrible way.

Her smile sates me.

Her happiness renews my hope in the future.

She shines brighter than any star, hotter than the sun.

Her existence begets all my desires, relieves all fears, and absolves me of my regret.


010313 "March"

Honestly, I don’t even know where to start with this one.


8FEB13 "318"

I am absolutely miserable.

I don’t know what else to say. I don’t think there is anything else that should be said.

I went on this long tirade a few hours ago and lost it all to a malfunctioning computer. Such circumstances made this just that much more frustrating until I realized the best place to start was the end.

I don’t know how to let go of myself. I fear that the void it’d create would engulf me whole. I feel so alone. The superficial relationships I’ve formed up to now have been little other than distractions from the fact that I haven’t been able to connect with anyone, truly, in years. I need help.

I’ve always been different. I know there have to be others out there like me though. I just have to live long enough to find one. If I could just find that one, it’d make everything worth it. That’s what I’ve been holding on to all this time. If there were just something out there that could save me. Love me. Maybe it was all about love. Or maybe I should just accept this is it.


29JAN13 "That Power"

It feels like this page has gotten pretty stagnant. The amount of content I’m putting out has well, yeah, been stifled. I can’t really express why. I honestly don’t really have any idea why it would be. But maybe that’s not too bad. You see, I think I actually learned something because of that.

It’s sort of “the running joke of the month.” Truth be told, it’s more of the joke of the week. It stems from a song by Childish Gambino. It’s the title. All this time I’d been trying to reclaim something lost. I thought I had forgotten how to feel emotions. I thought I’d lost empathy. I didn’t think it possible to relate to human beings anymore but now I wonder if that’s what makes a human in the first place. If I pretend to care, if I fake it, what if that’s really all there is to it? Just the effort of trying makes it all meaningful.

Who am I kidding, I’m recycling a plot from an old television program. But for perhaps the briefest of moments, I felt better, maybe? I think I miss humanity more than I could ever allow myself to admit. But that just doesn’t seem to stop me from taking every action I can to separate myself from it. To actively act in direct opposition to what would be deemed reasonable. I call it a “Guardian complex.” But maybe it’s just as simple as psychopathy.

I’ll be forever tired at this rate. Taking on the pain of the world is bold. I’ll have to hollow out myself more if I’m to have enough space to accommodate. Can’t remember why this all started. Was I that ruined as a child to sacrifice any semblance of a delusion free existence?


27JAN13 "Delta Alpha November"

It’s the phonetic alphabet for “Dan.” I figured I’d get that out of the way early because this is primed to be a long one.

I made my way onto the Harmontown message board. The layout is slick and clean like facebook back in the day though it’s a bit hard to navigate if you don’t have steady daily internet. Sadly, that’s me but this isn’t going to be much about me. Not directly anyway. So, the point of me bringing that up was because I came across a post that inquired how we essentially became Harmonians.

This isn’t the right place or way to start a new paragraph. Someone reblogged something from the tumblog HavingChanged. I don’t quite remember what it was but it led me back to Dan Harmon’s actual tumblr. I just remember during an eight hour shift, going all the way back to the first post and reading through it till I reached the end. This was around May of last year. The most recent post was in regard to his, well…yeah, being fired.

I knew almost nothing about Community but the man’s words resonated with me. I wasn’t even “on tumblr” at that point, yet I made frequent visits to his blog as well as the HavingChanged page because I couldn’t get enough. It was as if I’d finally found someone who saw the world like I did. Obviously he was “streets ahead” but it was still refreshing. In fact his words and experiences had touched me to the extent that I was hesitant to watch Community. I was afraid it wouldn’t measure up to the perceived ideal I’d created. And then, I entered “the dirt” and yeah, I saw his vision. The world he created. It was more beautiful than I could’ve hoped. I can’t go as far as to say it changed me but it did challenge me. It challenged me to make a change myself. It was as real and authentic as whatever that means gets. character development-wise of course.

So that’s how it started. It hasn’t even been a year yet and I’ve gone through all three seasons, numerous podcasts, all his accessible tumblog posts, numerous fanblogs and all in search of that which is lost. Yeah, cryptic right? I honestly don’t know what I’m looking for but I feel like, well just something following along in his steps. And that’s the thing isn’t it?

Something is better than nothing.


21JAN13 "Misogyny? I Barely Know Her! Part II"

So it’s not a new idea and I touched on it at my site but not to the extent I think I’m about to right here, right now. It was supposed to be a two-parter but things always got in the way. And by things, I mean, I was lazy. I could always grasp the fact that women for the most part are treated like garbage by men more often than not. That became clearer and clearer the closer I got to some of my female friends what with their divulging of daily stories involving verbally lewd behavior to unwanted advances. The casual inflections in their voices were what resonated with my ire the most however. “How? Why?” It just wasn’t making sense to me. I didn’t understand why a term like misogyny even existed. There shouldn’t have been a place in this world for it. But as I grew up, I slowly started to see why there was indeed a place for it after all.

Of all the injustice, of all the wounds I’ve had inflicted upon me, most of the deepest and most severe have been from women. What that is to say is that I can see it. I can see how it makes sense. But I can also see something else now. Something I never put together. How it’s all perpetuated because of how this world is so much smaller than any of us knew. We’re all connected.

Men treat women poorly because they’ve been treated poorly by women. Women treat men poorly because they’ve been treated poorly by men. It’s not a new concept but the fact that I learned it from T.V. makes it a bit more disconcerting.

We all know this right? I mean, those of us who have a shred more decency than to blindly follow the masses as they grow further and farther from any sort of sensibility right? Why has this cycle not lost any conceivable steam? Why haven’t we collectively “stepped up our game” and reached that level of humanity that separates us from animals? I can ask why all day but actions will forever speak louder. I’m jaded. But is that so much to ask? Too many times have I been “advised” to be a “dick” or a “jerk” and how that would dramatically improve things for me. I don’t see it. I just don’t see how it’s worth it.

Where is that world that’s ever moving forward, evolving, attaining enlightenment?


20JAN13 "Hell, Oh"

I wonder if maybe I’m begging to be called pretentious with some of these titles. Updates are as follows. I’ve hit a slump again. I have lost the motivation, the desire to write again. To be fair, I lost it like a month ago but just like that it has just finally caught up with me. I can only, scratch that, I’ll just be honest. It’s over-saturation. I’m tired of hearing my own words so I know anyone reading this had probably lost it earlier.

The choice was always between humanity and well, not humanity. Sadly I’ve been at the latter for so long it feels as though I no longer even know how to truly resemble one. Not a new point but that’s the twist isn’t it? There are never any truly new points.

I’m…, crap.


18JAN13 "I'd Be Better With Pictures"

Sorry. It seems like that might serve better as my name since I can’t seem to utter much else. The update frequency I’m sure isn’t stellar. Though, turns out, while I reside in this place I can’t actually access my site. So, tumbl-ove it’ll be till I get back to the U.S..


16JAN13 "His Life As I Live It"

“I just want to find something out there that’s as crappy as I feel inside.”

There’s my true quote of the day. More like of the month since that’s what this place has become to me. It’s just too clean. Too orderly. The people are too kind. Too friendly. This place really is the best of the options. And I’m so messed up I can’t even appreciate it.

Of course not. I don’t get the good life. I don’t deserve it. He does. All my merit is truly him. His path. His journey. His life. His sacrifice is the only reason I’m even here to begin with.

I shouldn’t be around people. Not as I am. I clearly can’t handle it. I can’t speak to them correctly. I can’t, well no, “I don’t” is far more accurate. I lost touch with that part of me that had anything to do with empathy. Funny. Can’t spell empathy without “empty.” I’ll shelve that for somewhere down the line probably, maybe, yeah, probably not.

So the point of this. I lose points like they were covered in butter. Three bands adorn my fingers now. One of silver, one of plastic, and the last of twine. None of that is relevant to anything.

I stunk of her. Her scent caught to the wind in the gentlest of breezes. That’s how I knew she was too close. I let her get too close. I hate the fact that I enjoyed it. The comfort. The closeness. The warmth. I hate myself because she’s not mine. She’s married and I know better. I know that I have control. That she’d stop if I just spoke the words but I choked on them. I went with the flow because I knew it wouldn’t last. No, I went with the flow because I hoped it would. Just by acknowledging it, I knew its days were numbered though. But I’m just so tired of the pain. It’s my home though. I was born of it and can never leave as long as I continue to be little more than his shadow.

And just like that my how the gears start turning. I’m not even done yet and my brain’s already trying to coax me into making this piece into something more digestible. It’s all a show you know? It’s all for the masses, the audience, the stranglers who’ll find this some decades down the line after whatever I’ve come to be fades to dust just to realize I could’ve really used some help. But that’s me being pretentious. My end will more likely be as mundane as my existence. I’m “vanilla” he told me. I don’t register. That was his assessment of my shortcoming, when it comes to women at least. With people, well, the list grows exponentially.

It would’ve never gone past the hugs and hand-holding. Sadly the elation was fleeting on arrival. I’m a destroyer. It’s all I seem to be. Nothing can survive my wake. Makes me perfect for the end. But for all that, I still can’t shake feeling like garbage. I know my fate. I know nothing good can come to me as I continue down his path but it’s the choice I’ve made and reaffirm every day. Yeah, the dark’s mine. This night’s watch patch couldn’t be more accurate. I really should burn this and start anew. 

Would I even could start anew, it’s still his life and the pain, turmoil, strife, sorrow; existence as it stands now will never let me forgo the responsibility of such. Whatever this that I exist as is nothing, to the legacy.


It Was the Best of Times

I finally finished transferring my tumblr posts to this site. It was a hassle and a half. I never realized how much I used to write. Kind of makes me sad that I've dwindled down to less than half the frequency. Maybe I'm at a tenth? Not to say that they were all gems but I can't deny there were a fair number of "bangers." Heh, look at that, I got wind of the other style. Dancing around bushes and whatnot to get that "crispy" word count. And the influence of youtube commentators is getting to me.

Alright back to point and purpose. What makes this a "Mainstay?" All none of you are asking that question but this is the internet so I'll answer it for my own sake. See what I did there? Anyway, really, this isn't going to be happy. I'm preparing myself for the hell of it all. Reading through the past I found what I guess would be considered the second act of my murder. Coincidentally, the first act was on my first "website." Fitting then that the third and arguably final would be here. Can't link to the second because it's on schedule now and I don't have the patience to wait for it to start this. I'm moving forward. I won't wait any longer. So it's time to finally cut the last vestige of whatever I once was. The last goodbye. Or at least, the most significant one. There was an adieu to the influential female friends in my life, there will be one for the crushes, and this final mass for my family. Funny, "Take Care of Yourself" has just spun up on the list.

This was essentially the last of my brethren to make it into the fold and yet someone crowned himself the center. I believe I met him through the person who will be last on this list. I honestly don't quite recall. I just know that he was my brother. My boss at one point. And the biggest BS'er I've ever known. He was also the youngest of us all. Not like it was by much since we all share the same year but considering the other two share my month.... I don't know why I'm trying to pad this. We fought rarely but when we did, I believe it brought us closer. I trusted him. Even though best practices were to always believe the opposite of anything he ever said. I knew his heart. I knew his family. Well, to be fair with that one, I knew all their families. Not the point. I knew him. I'd put my livelihood on the line for him. I'd fight for him. I'd protect him. I'd protect them all. To protect them all I did what I did. I do what I'm doing now. Sorry. This is supposed to be about him. My dear friend. No, my brother. He broadened my view of the world. He was a big part of what led me to hold New York in such reverence. I was his Chief of Staff. He was Mr. President.

The second of three. Arguably I hate to say it but I think I've missed this ahole the most over the years. Probably because we talked more than any of the others. Even before I left for college. We just used to argue about the dumbest stuff. All the time. Dang, he was such a good friend. He was my brother. Ha, I never told him but I was always a little miffed by the fact that the girl I crushed on for the largest majority of my teenage/collegiate years had a crush on him. I don't think I ever held that against him but looking back, I know that I may have been a little short with him at times because he was the otherside's grass. I looked up to him and not just because he was taller or older (only by less than a week) but because in many ways he was the best of us. Universally liked, smart, talented, a freaking comedian, and of course good-looking if even girls who had a strict no black people rule were still willing to offer him a pass. I remember back when we got into an argument in English class. I remember crumbling his pen in my fist like it was paper. I remember him rushing me, ready to start something and our teacher jumping in the middle and acting hysterically even though as soon as she moved towards us we broke it off immediately. He was a dear friend. He was my dear brother. He embodied his AIM screen name now more than ever I suppose. I learned so much from him. He hated when I called him Beauby.

He told me I was going to die alone. In the years passing he would try and backpedal whenever I brought it (as a joke of course) but I guess he was fairly prophetic in those days. I hate to admit it but he knew me better than anyone else. I began to resent him toward the end because he had everything I dreamed of. He earned it though. He worked hard and got to where we was on his on merit. It wasn't his fault that I failed to make anything of myself. I guess as things started to get progressively darker, all I could think of was how I didn't want him to be right. I hated that he was. I hated that in my own story, I was clearly becoming a stepping stone. It wasn't as though it was just him. He was just the closest. I was alone. I was drowning in debt. I was flunking out. He had his frat and the woman who would later become his wife. He had familial support so finances weren't the biggest issue. He graduated. From the school I ran to, to escape the hell that was my childhood. The school that dismissed me and closed the door on me ever attaining closure from. This probably all sounds negative but I suppose it's because if I list off the other 98% of my time with him, I'd probably be unable to continue holding back the tears. He really was my brother. Even moreso than those I went to war with. It was up until last year that he stopped calling. can you believe that? Six years with no reply and he still would call to say happy birthday. He was my brother. He was my family. All three of them were. While together we were "Four Brothers" He and I were "Bad Boys." I hesitate but know I have to name him or it won't be complete. Who's coming up with these stipulations is anyone's guess but the time has come. The name I choose to leave him with is TMoS. His first alias. He was the first member of the CoS. He was the last one to make contact with me. I'll miss him truly. Uah Uah.

This was my family. There were numerous others who've had lasting impacts on me, blood-related family included, but these guys were my family. These guys were the ones that made me what I was in my prime. They were my triforce in a way I guess. My biggest regret is that I wasn't strong enough to stand by them in the end. But I suppose I'm not the person they grew up with in the first place. The one they knew, the one they cherished died so many years ago now. This is Goodbye to his brothers. Goodbye and take care.



Generally speaking I usually try to devote some time to making things more efficient or run more smoothly whenever I get the chance to. Obviously I've been slacking when it comes to this place but that's a whole other story for, actually, I'll just say never. I doubt I'll ever actually get around to telling this particular story so I won't even set anyone reading this up for failure. Anyway, so back to my site.

I've been making subtle changes in the background here and there but nothing too extreme. Aside from the background/layout and whatnot but that's all aesthetics. Seeing as I'm running on an outdated platform (Squarespace literally does not offer much in terms of support for this version of their service any further) I've decided to try for a streamline while it still exists. Not to say I ever plan to shut this place down, but the fact is that it's from a bygone era. People don't tend to visit sites like they used to anymore. And though it pains me to say it, I'm a writer. Places like "Medium" or the like are more my speed. Maintaining this thing is little more than an exercise in narcissism. Like it's more special because it's my name. My brand. There I go bashing myself again. The point is that I believe, moving forward, this is going to be the best call.

So what bush am I beating around you ask? Simple. I'm finally trying to do something with the tag system. Though it seems like comments are still failing *shakes fist in the sky at the Squarespace deities* it just makes more sense to consolidate. I only have a limited number of pages/bandwidth anymore so really it's for the best. The categories will act as virtual pages and tags will be descriptors. Once all is said and done, I'll be removing the original splash page and reassigning it to MTST. I can already see how annoying it's going to be to go back and try to update all the links. Just updating cats and tags has taken stupid amounts of time but, I'd be lying if I said I didn't see any benefit in it all. This place, for better or worse, is the only home I have left. I should properly maintain it.

Well, that's that. Enjoy.


14JAN13 "Sometimes You Gotta Go HAM"

Every now and then I get the urge to write long messages. I find it strikes me mostly when I find myself in my inbox. I find myself more nostalgic than anything else when I see the endless bits of junk mail that litter what was once such an important means of contact for me with those I held dear. I can’t say I never receive messages from anyone. But it is rare. Like, two or three times a year rare. I almost fell into the cliche of calling out digression. But this is free form.

What went wrong is always on my mind. I feel the itch behind my eyes and finger tips. I could write some diatribe, some epic, some just, garbage really, and spew all the nonsense I’ve been holding onto for all these years but I know what that gets me. I know what happens after that. It’s always the same. they always leave shortly after. I’m starting to forget what this was all about.

I have the first line of the next discourse in philosophy. I don’t know if I’m ready just yet but I think this may very well be the last of the series. If nothing else, I won’t know once it’s over just like with those that came before it anyway. This is an utter mess of confusion.

His life, as I live it.


10JAN13 "Wright"

I kind of have to do an update at this point. My likes have reached that “magic number.” It’s pretty late though and I do have to be up fairly early so this is probably going to suck a bit more than usual. Sorry.

I realized, no more than within the last 10 minutes, that it was never about the physical intimacy. I’m referring to the girl, of course. Anyway, so yeah, it was never about that. Of course I found her attractive. Hell, most people found her attractive. But it wasn’t so much about that as it was what she represented. Or rather, what the successful pursuit of her would represent.

A way to foster an emotional intimacy. Something I’ve felt has been lost to me over the better part of a decade. Hmm, let me rephrase. What has been on a steady decline for me over the better part of just over a decade. She still holds that fire and if I give in to the remnants she can still reside as a muse but I wonder if there’s any point. This really just comes down to right or wrong. I’m not what see’s looking for. I don’t have it in me to pretend otherwise. So why not use what she offers until it fades into the black? She wouldn’t even have to be aware really. So, why not?

Because it’s not his way. I took up his resolve and even at the cost of my own existence I will do what I must to uphold his way. I guess, I already have my answer.


Remind Me!

I guess I'm a hope-and-dreamer type. Tom was willing to sacrifice his heart for the woman he loved. His happiness was so easy to discard because she meant more to him than he meant to himself. He was selfless in that regard and it really puts things into perspective for me. Wants are irrelevant. Sorry. I think I should stop trying to will this dream into reality. Maybe it's for the best. To be reminded that I'm just being selfish. Always making me better. Thanks for the good.

I didn't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I don't get to have two dreams.


A Strange Place to Put a Jelly Donut

For the longest time now I've found myself cycling around the idea that the me of years-read as decades now-prior, was the best me. As I've continued on into this place I currently reside, I've found it increasingly more difficult to, persist. Couldn't for the life of me find any way out. Still can't if I'm being honest, but if there's any truth at all, it's just this:  Whatever I was and whatever I am, don't matter.

I've been living in the shadow of a past I lived out. I understand that to move forward I need to accept my shortcomings and make peace with the fact that obscurity is the best I may be able to hope for. I get it. Truly. So what now? Simple. Just going to do whatever I always do. Regret. Hurt. Al the pain that's layered the walls around my soul will just have to do.

This likely seems like I'm getting "back on the horse," so to speak. Really though, I think I'm just finally leaving it. Been coasting so long it's no surprise my legs have atrophied. Feel like a baby or something. Just going to take this one step and, if possible, take the next right after.


8JAN13 "Eunuch"

I’m three days into it now. Technically two but three nights all the same and I’m not sure I ever had a handle on “it” to “lose” in the first place. This won’t be as esoteric as they tend to be so, please, continue.  Its been difficult feeling sane for a good amount of time now. Like, longer than a decade, good amount of time. If that means anything I guess it’d be the explanation for why I am the way I am now. But, this isn’t really about that. not directly anyway. Yeah, not directly.

The first day wasn’t too bad. I’m lying. I’m always lying though. Everyone is so happy. Everything is so relaxed. Things are good here. Bad for me though. Bad because of the dire state my psyche was left in before arriving. I had a million questions and a need for the one answer that could squash it all, “what now?”

That’s all. What happens now. We’re friends right? Or do I just not understand the concept. Why do I feel like I’m missing something? Always. I don’t know if I can ever get past this. I don’t know if this is just a bad habit or something worse, just what I’ve always been. But that’s a matter for a time that isn’t now. Right now it’s all about one thing. The days.

The second day, things continued. This play was too much. Too good to be real. It’s like all of the rumors and talk were just lies. Were these the same people? The same big bads who were sitting around on their thumbs doing nothing while we, up in the north, busted our butts? I was missing out on a lot. I broke my own rule. I lost my objectivity. But then again, I’ve been losing that for a while now. Is this old age?

The second day came and went. It was better. But I still can’t shake it and I think I know why now. I’m too afraid to take the true next step. This can be it if I let it. This can be the moment I move. The moment I transcend the current way as I had the old. But two things are as evident as they’ve ever been.

I am a liar and I’ve missed so many opportunities because I lack the balls to change. I really am just the worst.


7JAN13 "Things Got Weird"

I remember my last day there. It’s not hard to. It was only two days ago. I remember waking up tired. I always wake up tired if I wake up with the sun. I remember the cold. It’s always freezing in that room. That room. As if it weren’t my room. My room. Even as my fingers are the only one’s speaking the phrase, the feeling of discomfort such an accusation grants overtakes me. It’d never truly be my room. Just like this life could no longer be mine either. But here I am, losing sight of the original topic. My last day.

The sun was up and so was I. The worst part is the initial jolt. Putting on cold clothes sucks too. But the realization of where I am always reframes things. So, again, my last day.

There was a knock at the door. My presence was requested. Or so I was told. It was five minutes before my alarm would’ve gone off anyway. Well, five minutes before the first one. Time to move. Once I was “put together” I took a swig of water and made my way to the office. It tastes like chalk. But, it’s better than the alternative. I won’t express what that means.

On the stumble there I started to wax nostalgic of the previous morning. The one that ties it all together. The one I thought was my last until it wasn’t. You see, this is all about a girl. As cliche as it sounds, it always is. Even the lack of one makes it about one you see. At least that’s what I’m running with for now.

This may never end but maybe that’s how it should be. That’s how I wanted it to be. But, then things got weird. I liked her. A lot. Given the circumstances, even I knew I was jumping the gun. But it happened. Can’t take it back. But she just didn’t want things to be weird. Yeah, well, I remember my last day. I remember the last time I saw her that day. I remember the last words I spoke to her. I remember the last ones she spoke to me. Nothing. Not even a goodbye. But I can’t be surprised. Things got weird.

Yeah, I remember my last day. The morning that lasted until afternoon. The sound of the door closing behind her. The smell of smoke and fuel that mixed with the dirt and chill of the winter wind. She was a light. In only a short period I felt more than I’d felt in years for someone new. It was as though my past was finally just that, past. But now I’m back to where I started. Only, not so much. I started walking. I think I’ll continue. Whether this is me being impatient again or not, I don’t care. I’ll let them in. Start having friends again. If things end like they have in the past, then so be it. My only regret will be that I took so long to get there.

That all it took, was for things to get weird.


28DEC12 "Shimatta"

Lately it feels like every single update could be started with, “What am I even doing anymore?” Not a great state to be in I’d have to say but I guess it beats having absolutely nothing to say at all. So what now? Well, lets be fair for a moment, I’m slacking off and I’m sorry. But I’m also an idiot so it should be expected.

Look, I’m trying to say this, plain and simple. I’ll start writing again. Like actual writing. Soon. Soon-ish.

Be well and find peace.


24DEC12 "It's Not Cold Anymore"

“Things like me don’t get to die happy. We live in sorrow and pain; our deaths, horrific and alone.”

Those words have been littering my mind for the past few days now. I can’t really put my finger on it but I think that I might’ve lost my mind sometime in between now and, I guess, when I was born. But this isn’t going to be a trip down memory lane. I’ve done enough of that in all the previous incarnations of what this always ends up becoming. Sometimes I wonder if my brain actively knows this is getting convoluted. I’ll have to remember to ask it one day.

SO, yeah, the point of this. I don’t think I remember anymore. That’s a lie. I remember. I just no longer feel like sharing. I’m miserable. No surprises there. “I, I, I.” What should I be doing right now is what’s most paramount. It’s not this. Great, “this,” just like the last couple are going to make about as much sense as a “hang-gliding whore-house.

I plan on pushing myself to death. If I survive, maybe I’ll finally be good enough. For someone. For the mission. For the fate this path I’ve chosen plans to bestow upon me. There it goes again, being convoluted.

I hate my writing. I hate myself.