October 27th, 2012
Thinking about things. ...damn...
October 9th, 2012
There's this video that I watch... Something from my past. Sometimes I like to get pretty drunk and watch this video; for two minutes and thirty-nine seconds the entire universe is different. I wonder if this is as close to perfect as we can get; these hopes, dreams, delusions. I wonder and yet I don't truly care. I have proof that two minutes and thirty-nine seconds of my life was perfect, and I wasn't even there for it.
...but it gets you thinking, nonetheless.
August 22nd, 2012
This is the part of the night when I like to get drunk and marvel how the time goes by.
June 14th, 2012
|03:22 am - For personal record|
Tonight I came upon a random message on the internet that went like this: My girlfriend just got engaged with someone else that she has been dating secretly for 6 months. I'm committing suicide by hanging myself in 2½ hours...
Many people replied to this message, and the guy seemed to take heart from said replies. Yes, perhaps he was just begging for those replies; but one must remember that he was *begging*. I feel like any decent person has a need to at least try to lend a hand in these situations. Dozens of people posted responses to this guys post, but I felt that I should still put my voice in among the crowd. I messaged him the following:
Hey man, I'm sure you're getting a million messages at this point, but damn that must be fucking cool. An actual affirmation that there are so many people out there, people you've never even met, who think you're worthwhile enough to encourage your mere existence. Fuck yes; am I right?!
Here's my piece, quick as I can make it. I feel you brother. I've been your spot, as have others. I've been there twice now. In my case my family got split in two. At first, I looked at it like this: no matter what I do, I can only ever get 50% of the time I planned on spending with my kid, for the rest of my damn life, no matter what I do. Shit like that, just like what you went through, is shattering. All your dreams just suddenly, and permanently, ripped away from you. It will drag you down to depths that you could never think possible.
What's important is acknowledging what that severe feeling of loss is showing you about yourself. You cannot feel loss unless you first have something, and when the loss is emotional, that means the something is all in you. If you feel heartbroken, that's because you have fucking heart; and that cannot be taken from you by any person other than yourself. That is one of your strengths as a person. You have dozens of strengths atop that; each one making you who you are.
A few years back, I wouldn't have been able to tell you that I went from good dad to fucking-omg-awesome dad, better friend, and stronger and happier person, all because extreme emotional hardship opened my eyes to exactly how much I could do, how innately awesome I could be if I just got up and fucking did it. A few years back I couldn't have told you that, but today I can. You already have evidence of your own innate awesomeness. Now go own it. Be more than the average. Do work. You've got this.
If you ever think you're alone, well then, I'm right here brother. I've never even met you and I still think you've got something worthy of me spending time of you. Go kick ass and take names.
March 16th, 2012
I feel so diminished,
a person in face and form
with a heart that cries for admittance.
How does one survive
when it is their heart,
purest splendor and adoration,
which gives them identity,
The world seems out to teach me.
The landscape is cruel, it says.
That if I am to claim that I am,
to claim that I be,
then I must be something useful;
something of obvious function,
some sort of tool.
But there are things that
I feel like I remember,
things that might be dream,
feel like a spark's remaining ember.
and a little breath of air...
the blaze I could make.
I would be useful;
just in a way we forgot.
A smile that lifts you up
when you feel like you're lost.
Don't we need one moment of precedent,
something to weigh our argument,
as to why it is that we're not just ok,
but socially dutiful,
in living this way;
we are fucking beautiful.
November 16th, 2011
|12:39 am - Life is something of a masquerade|
Such a burdensome need for twisted words and hierarchies of secrecy. A dance where two people hope to catch the glance of one another from across the room, quick and quiet. With everything spinning, while being held close to another, the most that can be done is share a smile and a sparkle in your eye before you are turned about again, led through the movements by life. Having caught that spare moment, a hushed acknowledgement, brings life to the party and a reminder of why it is we dance to begin with.
November 12th, 2011
There is nowhere that I might tell you how much I love you. I find myself thinking of you often of late. If only it could be.
October 8th, 2011
Twenty-seven years, seven months, and... what day is it? One child, three women, and three or four dreams that have come and gone; one that perhaps never truly left.
I wish that I could empty my mind, pour it out unto this place. The feelings... Aw fuck it, honesty: I need to write something sober. I have something that I really need to say, and I've been falling short. My heart is aching, but also swelling; and I don't know how to talk about that.
October 7th, 2011
|02:29 am - Cross my heart and hope to...|
My days are passable, if anxious, but my nights are terrible. How do you tell someone how much you love them when your love by standard exceeds normalcy. How can you state that you miss the everything that they are without over-stepping boundary lines; to express how you realize the everything of you was part and parcel to the everything of them?
I have fallen in love, nay (for sake of using funny old-world terms), again nay, been in love with those I deemed closest, and I want them to know it. I am my own person, but that person was made so much better, so much more vibrant and complete, by the people I drew close to me. There is an entire world before me, with so very much to offer, but I want more than anything right now to pull close to me those who I've fallen in love with. They know my respect for them, but cannot know how deeply I need them near to feel whole. To be a good man, a good friend, is impossible without those whom you care for being near. Further, to surpass the effort and trial of what you wish to be, to simply acknowledge and adore that which supports you regardless of your efforts, is difficult without a smiling face before you or tearful eye upon your shoulder, to catch a frustrated sigh as it is release to drift away upon the wind.
This is what I have come to feel is home. Being away from it now, I naturally feel that I am not at home. Those I give my heart to make honest effort, but I wish too that they could see my tears. Not so that they would hold sympathy for me, but so that they might feel truly special. "I don't cry for everyone," she said, and I know the sentiment all too well. I cannot help but cry as of late though. I know that I have been separated from those who would never leave me, but also those whose proximity defined who I am. The little one in particular, a mystery to my mind, taught me more, and her context made me more than I knew myself to be. But how does one say I love you, to mean it in a way the best of companions, the most heartfelt of stories, do, without it being overbearing or misunderstood?
Someday it will simply be known; but until then it is a question heavy and pertinent upon my mind.
October 2nd, 2011
|02:29 am - There ain't no one to be pretty for... but I really wish there was.|
One day in and I just want to go home. I hope it's just addiction and withdrawal, but in this moment it feels like truth. Today was nothing. Empty. From the moment I awoke to the moment I go to sleep after releasing these words, I felt hollow. I spoke with neighbors and mingled, attempted to communicate with old friends, but all of it felt robotic and shallow, void of the abundance of personality, life, and hope I held just yesterday. I've said it before and I'll say it again: this place is a ghost town, filled with the walking dead. Everything here runs on the basis of finding one person and having them float around nearby so you can ignore the meaninglessness of your existence. Routines and shiny objects brought home from the store to first look nice, then to clutter your life. I'd just like to hear an honest laugh, to see an honest emotional struggle, to feel the spark of ambition and exhilaration in someone. Perhaps I was spoiled to have had all three so commonly for the past few years. I know it's just the first day. I'll give things time and figure out how to make myself not feel so terribly alone, but I neglected to think about just how much it sucks until I figure that out.