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Nothing lasts forever

Mar. 19th, 2017 | 10:26 pm
mood: sadsad

So much time has passed in a state of emotional comfortability. The trust that I had begun to think was impossible to obtain became typical and familiar - built brick upon brick, year after year. Like Jenga, the careless removal of a foundational piece causes the entire structure to collapse.

Comfortability has been replaced with doubt; trust with suspicion. I am driven mad with uncertainty. There will be no explanation.

Why do people behave the way they do. How can you act without care to the effects of others or to the things that you have spent so much to build - on a mere whim?

I am alone.

It was not painful to be alone, as long as I could be alone with you. But now, I am just a fool, standing by myself, not understanding why.

You seem to not know or care what has been sacrificed in your pursuit of... whatever.

Will time heal the damage, or will there always be a scar, forever remaining as a reminder of how little I mattered. I will wait and see.

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Rolling Paladin

Jun. 24th, 2009 | 01:38 am
mood: anxiousanxious
music: Toad The Wet Sproket - Dam Would Break

When I heard her say "I miss you," I thought of her sitting there next to me, angry and disheveled in the morning's glare, yet not angry because she was with me; A picture mirroring my own disposition. It's these moments, the ones that emphasize the similarities between us, that beg for mercy, and yet I cannot simply ignore what I know my subconscious will fight forever. My dogmatic religion cannot accept it and thus we progress only by a forced suspension of my beliefs. I was never a follower of "forgive and forget," and yet the occasional stirring of emotion is significant enough to make me doubt the tenets of my own faith. And even if they are not disregarded, it fuels and justifies my own pompous self-righteousness, a masturbation which simultaneously disgusts and empowers me. My emaciated ego craves such a thing but knows it will be punished at every turn.

"What is this ice that gathers 'round my heart, to stop the flood of warmth before it even starts? It would make me blind to what I thought would always be the only constant in the world for me. And every hour of every day I need to fight from pulling away. And if my mind could only loose the chain, the dam would break"

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scratch that

Feb. 18th, 2009 | 01:10 pm
mood: pissed offpissed off

I thought Python was supposed to be easy, wtf. Add another failure to the pile.

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Children playing in the sand: A memoir

Feb. 13th, 2009 | 08:49 pm
mood: sadsad
music: Hot Hot Heat - So So Cold

Somehow I guess I always knew it would end this way: Sudden, random, and incomprehensible. It had been a year since I had last seen her. Relatively, that wasn't necessarily a long time, but I was counting down the days in anticipation. When I heard from her, it came just as I expected: late, sudden, and random. It was almost three in the morning, and I had known that she had been in town for nearly a week already, but as I held my cellular phone in hand with "one unread message," my aggravation melted away. Of course, I left immediately.

She was staying with a friend about forty minutes away, and I spent the time listening to dumb love songs, as if I weren't high enough. When I reached the house and she got into my car I could have gone into shock. I always felt this way when I saw her. We drove away towards the beach as she began to explain to me the current events of her life. I nearly missed the conversation as I became lost in the sound of her voice, her scent, her clothes, the way she sat, her expression, her eyes. I might have wished that I had time simply to observe these things, but due to some reason or another that was a luxury we never had. Every time I saw her she always remarked that I smelled the same, and I always replied, "so do you." And it was true.

I knew she loved the beach, this was not the first time we had gone, and when we arrived I knew the drill. She excitedly ran ahead of me towards the water and then carefully surveyed the nearby sand: a little bit to the left, and then a little bit to the right before bursting into a sprint down the coastline. I stood anticipating her return, enjoying the breeze and the solitude of the night, wondering if my daughter would develop the same routine. I loved how the beach transformed her into a child and in seeing her, I too felt young. And time was compressed, because at that moment I may have been fifteen or I may have been twenty three. It didn't matter, my bond with her rendered time irrelevant.

In moments I saw her running back towards me and into my embrace. She intently pressed her ear against my cheek and I realized how cold it was outside, I was cold, but I didn't feel it, she was here. I had come to adore these little expressions of affection from her. I may have been in high school when she would press her fist into my palm, wanting me to squeeze it. But right now I was on the beach, with her ear against my cheek, and now she was standing on my feet, and I loved her.

The sun was coming up and it was time to go and I realized how late it was, I was tired, but I didn't feel it, she was here. We didn't talk all that much, but over time I had learned that words sometimes complicate or demean things, so we stayed quiet. Much in our relationship was implied, but I felt those those implications were strong. When she did say something to me, it was always meaningful and she was never simply "talking." I was reviewing the implied statements she had said to me over the years, which were dear to me. I remembered her telling me that she had changed her mind, that it might be nice to get married, or that she would give me pretty babies. I remember telling her that one day I would probably inherit my parents house and she said, "and then we'll sell it." In the end though, it would appear as though I placed far to much emphasis on implied meanings.

The following night I picked her up and we returned to the beach. And she did her routine, and I held her. I kissed her neck and thought of Christmas time eight years prior. She was sitting with her back against her bed writing thank you cards and I was laying down watching her. Her hair was up in a bun leaving her neck exposed and I longed for her. That was the first time I kissed her, and she stopped for a while and didn't respond. I had thought I made a mistake and retreated into the bathroom. Momentarily she appeared and kissed me on the cheek. An implied 'yes' to my implied question. There were some issues in our relationship. If she lived on the other side of the country, if our relationship was based on implications, wasn't that normal? Did it matter? On the drive home I was exhausted, I almost couldn't drive straight and I wanted her to hold my hand and momentarily she did. I thought of what she said last year, "I like the way my hand fits in yours." And I loved her.

On the third day I asked her if she wanted to see me and I became agitated at a delayed response. Precious little time was left and I did not want to waste it. We fought, and I did not understand. The rule of three prophecy came true.

Later I called her, seeking understanding and we fought, and I did not understand. She left and I was remorseful, and I thought of the issues which had persisted in our relationship over the years, I reviewed what was said on the third day, futilely trying to correlate anything. I held her necklace and wept because it was over and still I did not, do not, will not understand.

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I'm Not Emo

Feb. 4th, 2009 | 11:07 pm
mood: tiredtired
music: Hot Hot Heat - So So Cold

The collapse of my primary ideal, proof that there are in fact no "raindrops on roses" or "girls in white dresses," has imposed on me a series of peculiar and contradictory compulsions which inflict their symptoms upon me with the likeness of manic depression. Like a drowning victim, I try to grab anything unfortunate enough to be within my grasp, yet with such passive aggressiveness to render my attempts ineffective. I pathetically yearn for impossible attention and acceptance with a fervor not seen since pubescence. Alternately I am moved towards solitude, and personal development which, having never really developed a craft for myself, presents itself as a microcosm of failures which I have accumulated throughout my life. I am desperately seeking to fill the sinkhole that was created, that has abolished the place of safety that I had always relied on. Perhaps knowing just that fact would have been enough reason for her to leave me.

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Jan. 28th, 2009 | 01:09 pm
mood: apatheticapathetic

"Earth. Even the word sounded strange to me now. Unfamiliar. How long had I been gone? How long had I been back? Did it matter? I tried to find the rhythm of the world where I used to live. I followed the world. I was silent, attentive. I made a conscious effort to smile, nod, stand, and perform the millions of gestures which constitute life on Earth. I studied these gestures until they became reflexes again, but I was haunted by the idea that I remembered her wrong. Somehow I was wrong about everything."

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Jan. 5th, 2009 | 01:41 am
mood: blankbroken
music: REM - Losing My Religion

Chapter 5
Life: The Entropy of Innocence

For the past eight years I have relied on an idea, and have invested more and more through the years, and it has just now betrayed me.

I was wrong.
My idea went bankrupt.
I don't know what to think.
It's all a sham.

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Nov. 22nd, 2008 | 04:33 am
mood: accomplishedaccomplished
music: Hot Hot Heat

Death Knight: World of Warcraft is cool again

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The Story of Marros

Nov. 21st, 2008 | 04:08 pm
mood: amusedamused

found on thottbot.comCollapse )

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Fire Exit

Nov. 10th, 2008 | 05:30 pm
location: CGS1100
music: Story of the Year - Until the day I die

I'm going to need to start plotting my escape from the Deli.. maybe a transfer to another store? When I reply to that hypothetical letter, I know I won't be able to stay my hand and I don't think I want to deal with the consequences.

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