| Until the End |
[16 Jun 2009|05:29pm] |
No one knows who gave the orders
No one asks about the crime
No one looks behind the curtain
No one questions why
The only time we've got
Is right about now
I cross my heart
I take the vow
I'll never turn
I'll never bend
I'm with you now
Until the end
Tonight's the test
Tonight's the time
I am the punishment
That fits the crime
I'll break the bricks
I'll pick the locks
I don't got nothin'
But I'll give what I got
I'll never turn
I'll never bend
I'm with you now
Until the end
Ten trials whose outcomes
All fixed from the start
Nine judges sitting counting
Their money in the dark
Eight towers of iron
Surround the desert town
On a cold December morning
Seven martyrs knocked them down
Six fathers still waiting
For their six sons to come home
Five mothers who know better
And accept that they're gone
Four years I've been hunted
Still I breathe free
Three times I shot the sheriff
And did not spare the deputy
Two prayers I'm praying
Until we're together
One promise I'm keeping
Tonight and forever
I'll never turn
I'll never bend
I'm with you now
Until the end
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| Ocean Breathes Salty |
[04 Jan 2007|12:57pm] |
Ocean Breathes Salty, by Modest Mouse
Your body may be gone, but I'm gonna carry you in
In my head, and in my heart, in my soul.
And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both live again
Well I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. Don't think so
Well that is that and this is this
You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get
You get away from me. You get away from me.
Collected my belongings and I left the jail
Well thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell
I had to think awhile. I had to think awhile
The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?
In your head, and in your mouth, in your soul
And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both grow old
Well I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I hope so
Well that is that and this is this
You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get
You get away from me. You get away from me
Collected my belongings and I left the jail
Well thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell
I had to think awhile. I had to think awhile
Well that is that and this is this
Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed,
When the ocean met the sky
You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye
When the earth folded in on itself
And said "Good luck, for your sake I hope heaven and hell
Are really there, but I wouldn't hold my breath"
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste death?
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste death?
The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?
In your head, and in your mouth, in your soul
The more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind
Well I don't mind. I don't mind. How the heck could I mind?
Well that is that and this is this
You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get
You get away from me. You get away from me
Well that is that and this is this
Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed,
When the ocean met the sky
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste the afterlife?
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| Inside you time moves, but she don't fade; The ghost in you, she don't fade |
[27 Dec 2006|10:48am] |
"He went out of the meadow and walked along the highroad towards
the village. A slight wind arose, and the sky looked gray and
sullen. The gloomy moment had come that usually precedes the
dawn, the full triumph of light over darkness.
Shrinking from the cold, Levin walked rapidly, looking at the
ground. "What's that? Someone coming," he thought, catching the
tinkle of bells, and lifting his head. Forty paces from him a
carriage with four horses harnessed abreast was driving towards
him along the grassy road on which he was walking. The
shaft-horses were tilted against the shafts by the ruts, but the
dexterous driver sitting on the box held the shaft over the ruts,
so that the wheels ran on the smooth part of the road.
This was all Levin noticed, and without wondering who it could
be, he gazed absently at the coach.
In the coach was an old lady dozing in one corner, and at the
window, evidently only just awake, sat a young girl holding in
both hands the ribbons of a white cap. With a face full of light
and thought, full of a subtle, complex inner life, that was
remote from Levin, she was gazing beyond him at the glow of the
sunrise.
At the very instant when this apparition was vanishing, the
truthful eyes glanced at him. She recognized him, and her face
lighted up with wondering delight.
He could not be mistaken. There were no other eyes like those in
the world. There was only one creature in the world that could
concentrate for him all the brightness and meaning of life. It
was she. It was _____. He understood that she was driving to
___________ from the railway station. And everything that had been
stirring Levin during that sleepless night, all the resolutions
he had made, all vanished at once. He recalled with horror his
dreams of marrying a peasant girl. There only, in the carriage
that had crossed over to the other side of the road, and was
rapidly disappearing, there only could he find the solution of
the riddle of his life, which had weighed so agonizingly upon him
of late.
She did not look out again. The sound of the carriage-springs
was no longer audible, the bells could scarcely be heard. The
barking of dogs showed the carriage had reached the village, and
all that was left was the empty fields all round, the village in
front, and he himself isolated and apart from it all, wandering
lonely along the deserted highroad.
He glanced at the sky, expecting to find there the cloud shell he
had been admiring and taking as the symbol of the ideas and
feelings of that night. There was nothing in the sky in the
least like a shell. There, in the remote heights above, a
mysterious change had been accomplished. There was no trace of
shell, and there was stretched over fully half the sky an even
cover of tiny and ever tinier cloudlets. The sky had grown blue
and bright; and with the same softness, but with the same
remoteness, it met his questioning gaze.
"No," he said to himself, "however good that life of simplicity
and toil may be, I cannot go back to it. I love her."
- excerpt from Chapter 12 of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina -
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[16 Sep 2006|05:12pm] |
I was a midnight rider on a cloud of smoke,
I could make a woman hang on every single stroke,
I was an iron man,
I had a master plan,
but I was alone.
I could hear you breathing with a sigh of the wind,
I remember how your body started trembling.
Oh, what a night it's been
and for the state I'm in
I'm still alone.
And all the wonders made for the Earth,
and all the hearts in all creation,
somehow I always end up alone (always end up alone),
always end up alone.
So I play (sha la),
I'll wait (I'll wait)
'cause you know that love takes time.
We came (sha la) so far (so far),
just the beat of a lonely heart.
And it's mine,
I don't want to be alone.
Well, since I got no message on the answer phone,
and since you're busy every minute, I just stay at home,
I make believe you care,
I feel you everywhere,
but I'm still alone.
I'm on a wheel of fortune with a twist of fate
'cause I know it isn't heaven, is it love or hate.
Am I the subject of the pain.
Am I the stranger in the rain.
I am alone.
And is there glory there to behold,
maybe it's my imagination.
Another story there to be told (oh).
So I play (sha la), I'll wait (your time),
and I pray it's not too late (it isn't too late).
You know we came (sha la) so far (so far),
just the beat of a lonely heart,
and it's mine,
and I don't want to be alone.
And all the wonders made for the Earth,
and all the hearts in all creation,
another story there to be told (oh).
So I play (sha la), I'll wait (I'll wait),
and I pray it's not too late.
We came (sha la) so far (so far),
just the beat of a lonely heart,
and it's mine,
and I don't want to be alone.
Gone, but not out of sight.
I'm caught in the rain and there's no one home.
Face the heat of the night,
the one that you love's got a heart that's made of stone.
Shine and search for the light
and sooner or later you'll be cruising on your ocean
(and I don't want to be alone).
Shine and clean out of sight
I'm caught in the rain and there's no one home
(and I don't want to be alone).
Face the heat of the night,
the one that you love's got a heart that's made of stone
(and I don't want to be alone).
Shine and search for the light
and sooner or later you'll be cruising on your ocean
(and I don't want to be alone).
Shine and clean out of sight
and sooner or later...
- Bee Gees, 'Alone' -
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[26 Aug 2006|10:37pm] |
I sure do hope that someday I reagain that part of myself that I have apparently permanently lost. I felt myself losing grip on its few remaining crystalline shards about two years ago, as I mentioned in my Rain blog on Xanga, but now the process is nearing its end and all I can feel any longer is a deadening glimmer of will and hope. Sparks light up the darkness with occasional fireworks shaking the world like earthquakes in the sky, yet I cannot find in this violence anything resembling the light I once pictured would fill the other side of the tunnel. Stars filling a summer sky have a way of making one feel lonely among billions.
What more is there to say? Another disappointing summer in which stuff happened and then it ended. Nothing more!
There are of course things left to hope for, but honestly...do you think that I have any belief in such things anymore?
"I put my summers back in a letter
And I hide it from the world
All the regrets you can't forget
Are somehow pressed upon a picture
In the face of such an ordinary girl"
- Counting Crows, 'Hard Candy'
To Ramona
by Bob Dylan
Ramona, come closer,
Shut softly your watery eyes.
The pangs of your sadness
Shall pass as your senses will rise.
The flowers of the city
Though breathlike, get deathlike at times.
And there's no use in tryin'
T' deal with the dyin',
Though I cannot explain that in lines.
Your cracked country lips,
I still wish to kiss,
As to be under the strength of your skin.
Your magnetic movements
Still capture the minutes I'm in.
But it grieves my heart, love,
To see you tryin' to be a part of
A world that just don't exist.
It's all just a dream, babe,
A vacuum, a scheme, babe,
That sucks you into feelin' like this.
I can see that your head
Has been twisted and fed
By worthless foam from the mouth.
I can tell you are torn
Between stayin' and returnin'
On back to the South.
You've been fooled into thinking
That the finishin' end is at hand.
Yet there's no one to beat you,
No one t' defeat you,
'Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad.
I've heard you say many times
That you're better 'n no one
And no one is better 'n you.
If you really believe that,
You know you got
Nothing to win and nothing to lose.
From fixtures and forces and friends,
Your sorrow does stem,
That hype you and type you,
Making you feel
That you must be exactly like them.
I'd forever talk to you,
But soon my words,
They would turn into a meaningless ring.
For deep in my heart
I know there is no help I can bring.
Everything passes,
Everything changes,
Just do what you think you should do.
And someday maybe,
Who knows, baby,
I'll come and be cryin' to you.
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[21 Aug 2006|10:41pm] |
Which will
(by Nick Drake)
Which will you go for
Which will you love
Which will you choose from
From the stars above
Which will you answer
Which will you call
Which will you take for
For your one and all
And tell me now
Which will you love the best.
Which do you dance for
Which makes you shine
Which will you choose now
If you won't choose mine
Which will you hope for
Which can it be
Which will you take now
If you won't take me
And tell now
Which will you love the best.
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[17 Aug 2006|11:41am] |
You ain´t got a hold on me
(by AC/DC, though the Mark Kozelek cover version is my favorite)
You can roll me round your finger
You can roll me if I'm blind
You can roll me roll me roll me
I'm the easy rollin' kind
But don't think I'm facin' down hill
'Cause there's somethin' you'll see
You'll lose your grip and slip
That you don't got a hold on me
You don't got a hold on me
You don't got a hold on me
Why don't you let me be
Why don't you let me be
You can take me to your bedroom
You can take me to your heart
You can take me up to the hill
But I won't fall apart
But don't count on me givin' this
All back to you
Just because I'm hooked on livin'
Don't mean I'm hooked on you
You ain't got a hold on me
You don't got a hold on me
Why don't you let me be
Why don't you let me be
Why don't you let me be
You don't got a hold on me
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[22 Jul 2006|04:39am] |
Another song, which is less vague about what I'm feeling:
Sittin' At A Bar
Rehab
(Southern Discomfort)
Bar tender I really did it this time
Broke my parole to have a good time
When I got home it was 6 a.m.
The door was locked so I kicked it in
She was trippin' on the bills
I think she was high on some pills
She threw my shit out into the yard
Called me a bum and slapped me real hard
And in my drunkin' stuper
I did what I should of never done
Now I'm sittin' here, talking to you
Drunk and on the run
I'm sittin' at a bar on the inside
Waitin' for my ride on the outside
She broke my heart in the trailer park
So I jacked the keys to her fuckin' car
Crashed that piece of shit and then stepped away
You know Mo I'll probably get ten years
So just give me beers 'til they get here
Yeah I know the sun is comin' up
And ya'll are probably gettin' ready for closin' up
But I'm trying to drown my soul
I'm tired of this life on the dirt road
And everythang that I love is gone
And I'm tired of hangin' on
She got me sittin' at a bar on the inside
Waitin' for my ride on the outside
She broke my heart in the trailer park
So I jacked the keys to her fuckin' car
Crashed that piece of shit and then stepped away
I guess it's meant to be
Romance is misery
So much for memories
And now I'm headed to the penitentiary
See me on T.V.
The next cop series
I am a danger
I guess I should've done something about my anger
But I'll never learn
Real things I don't concern
I pour kerosene on everything I love and watch it burn
I know it's my fault
But I wasn't happy it was over
She through a fit so I crashed that piece a shit Nova
And now I'm goin' back again
Back to the pin to see my friends
And when we all pile out that county van
They'll ask me where I've been
I've been at a bar on the inside
Waitin' for my ride on the outside
She broke my heart in the trailer park
So I jacked the keys to her fuckin' car
Crashed that piece of shit and then stepped away
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[21 May 2006|12:31pm] |
Unable to relate to most of the music I listen to anymore (and thus forcing me to write my own, even if the lyrics are tolerable at best), I was surprised to find some vague solace in two Red Hot Chili Pepper songs.
Torture Me
BECAUSE I'M HAPPY TO BE SAD
I WANT IT ALL I WANT IT BAD
OH-OH--IT'S WHAT I KNOW
A VINTAGE YEAR FOR POP I HEAR
THE MIDDLE OF THE END IS NEAR
TORTURE ME AND TORTURE ME
IT'S FORCIN' ME SO TORTURE ME
TORTURE ME WITH SORCERY
IT'S FORCIN ME SO TORTURE ME
ALL THE LEAVES ARE TURNING BROWN
THE WIND IS PUSHING ME AROUND
LET'S GO---IT'S WHAT I KNOW
THE WILL OF GOD IS STANDING STILL
BRAZILIAN CHILDREN GET THEIR FILL
LET'S GO...
LET'S TURN IT UP AND DUMB IT DOWN
THE VISION OF YOUR ULTRA SOUND
IS SO...
A VINTAGE YEAR FOR POP I HEAR
THE MIDDLE OF THE END IS NEAR
IT'S SO...
Strip My Mind
ARTHUR J DID INDICATED
THE BOULEVARD WOULD NEVER BE
SO FULL OF LOVE AND LIFE AGAIN
HOT AS HADES EARLY EIGHTES
SING ANOTHER SONG AND MAKE ME
FEEL LIKE I'M IN LOVE AGAIN
PLEASE DON'T STRIP MY MIND
LEAVE SOMETHING BEHIND
PLEASE DON'T STRIP MY MIND
ALL IN FAVOR SIGN THE WAIVER
BLOODY CAROLINA WON'T YOU
TAKE ANOTHER LOOK INSIDE
OPERATOR, CO-CREATOR
COME ON RADIOTOR WON'T YOU
BLOW ANOTHER TOP AND SING
EL DORADO WON THE LOTTO
ALL THAT CASH AND NOT A CLUE
BUT NOW YOU KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH
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[13 May 2006|08:14am] |
Why am I dreaming about the last episodes of the Wonder Years over and over?
Why am I dreaming about being left alone in a forest while it is raining?
Why am I dreaming about loveless sex, loveless love?
Why am I dreaming...?
Who puts these things in my head?
From what period were they fed?
Should I accept their conclusions twirling about the night?
Should I sleep knowing that this way of living isn't right?
And who's to blame for those things left unsaid?
If you wanted to say them, do you feel you've misled?
Can corny lines make up for lost time?
I say 'em like I mean 'em, but do you believe them?
But as you look across the coast in my dreams
and talk endlessly about pointless, aimless things
I hear a drawing night ringing its bell
A call to reunite all those in personal hell
And place them deep in an unthinking womb
I think it will be night soon
When you're awake and feel, love, don't act like you aren't real
But I don't feel special (no sweetheart, no); I feel just like everyone else
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[04 May 2006|06:08pm] |
watch fantasy; lose your sense of life
watch reality; lose your mind
it is not a choice
either please yourself or leave yourself
either live or die
it is not a choice
none of these things which you hold dear
realize that you are even here
many times past and people moved on
nothing permanent; nothing belongs
you failed before you tried
you flailed your arms up high
with a conviction you sing
until your heart and lungs sting
until you run out of breath
and a while more
a while most will ignore
long enough for anything
and yet nothing came
without a voice
there is no choice
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| Well, Well |
[03 May 2006|12:46pm] |
Synths bleeping their neurotic sound makes the room seem much more alive than it really is. A pencil, notebook, and several binders are stacked on each other, making a little ziggurat of musical power on top of the black digital piano's frame. Light shining through the half shut blinds creates an atmosphere of somber meditation, awoken with stirs of riffs suddenly being shot off and then silenced abruptly. A pencil scrapes on paper as the notes are rapidly transferred from aural reality to carbon theory. "One song down, five to go..." the man mumbles to himself as he shifts restlessly in his hunched position, trying to stop the pain the rickety 80's style retro chair is creating in his left ass bone.
"And, for my next piece?" he asks himself aloud as he flips his notebook over to an empty score sheet. The synths stop playing.
Silence.
Amused, the man says, "Ah, a song about a grandfather dancing at his granddaughter's wedding after having a little too much to drink. In C ditonic, 4/4, perfect organum? Certainly." An acoustic bass guitar comes pounding through the speakers, sending cobwebs into the air. A shimmering sound, almost like an orchestra of bells being played within the depths of a medieval church, approaches, grows silent, and then returns even closer than before. Two bleeping synths descend and climb with the bells, creating a musical ocean tide. A brief nock on the door to the back of the man is hardly noticed.
Crash goes the cymbal, which dies quickly.
Silence.
A single nock on the door, another nock assuradly on its way.
"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHTAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHK!" screams the man.
Hell makes its entrance. Bells are ringing so loud their distortion is turning into ear shattering fuzz. Synths produce bleeps that drop into explosive bass. Two string sections spawn a harrowing sound, the same you would expect at your death bed. A resolute flute plays a constant middle C, its unrelenting digital nature causing the tone to become unnerving. The man in the chair is slamming all of his weight onto the white keys, the veins on his hands ballooning.
The man sits still.
Silence.
The man's soft voice sings a cappella. His rhythmic gyrating torso follows his words as they rapidly shift between two bland, low tones, like a vacuum cleaner.
Silence.
Hell returns, this time accompanied by frantic nocking on the door to the back of the man. "Open up or turn it down!" shouts a man's raspy voice from outside.
Silence.
The man begins singing again, but with new lyrics.
Silence.
"Um, listen pal, I don't who you think you are, but..." the outside man says. Inching his head closer to the door, the outside man thinks he sees something through the door's eyehole. Maybe a black face staring back at him through the eyehole, he thinks. Maybe a gun.
He squints and presses his face to the door. At first he still sees only a black blurr, but then his vision begins to focus. Suddenly the identity of the blackness is known to him; a few moments too late.
Twin speakers blast a gust of air with so much force that the man has to shield his eyes. An alien sound, like a second voice in the outside man's head, drills its way into his soft, tissuey brain. The only thing that the outside man can think of as the horrible sound penetrates his consciousness is the word 'primordial'. He throws himself to the ground and covers his ears, praying that this is a nightmare. Praying that he will wake up before whatever happens next. Before the monster comes.
Silence.
Sweet harpsichords, those little vibrating angels, splash crescendos down him like tears. Strings lift his heart up, their timbre gentle like the fingers of a lover.
He sees the sun, the sky, the trees, the ocean, the mountains, the birds, the world. No houses, no cars, no wars, no hamburgers, no orders, no waste, no treasure, no lies, no borders. No humans. Not even himself. A new day begins right in front of him, and he only watches it. He does not wonder about it, or admire it, or disdain it. It simply happens, and he is there watching.
The music ends.
The outside man prepares to finish knocking the door with his second knock. His fist launches forward, but stops short of its target. Pausing, he no longer knows what to do with his fist idly hovering in front of the door. He swallows, lowers his arm, turns around, and goes back up the stairs to return from whence he came.
Silence.
“If only I knew that he wouldn’t be coming back – that this would be the last time I would ever see him,” the inside man says. “But I know this is not so.”
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[21 Apr 2006|10:29am] |
I am nearly 20 years old and still a virgin. More, I am single, have been such for nearly four years, and have no reason to think that this trend will not continue. What does this imply about my desire to accomplish non-sex related goals, such as my primary life goal of supporting and promoting life?
From my experience, those who have the strong sexual and emotional desire to have at least one mate are often unable to function properly in their tasks when their want is unrequoted. Especially those who believe that they have solved the puzzle by destroying sexual and intimate desires within themselves will find that they have actually only reinforcing their own woes as their very biology revolts against them. Every attempt to circumvent our biological nature is met with technical problems that often only create greater distress, and sometimes lead to suicide or a feeling of loose futility.
I have, in my life, done all I can to carry on in my work despite my biological urges. When emotions begin to plague me at the moments where I need it least, like while I'm trying to finish a test or simply concentrate on my thoughts without them drifting into fantasy grandeurs of "What if...?", I struggle to keep my mind focused and sharp. I tell myself, "You will not let these things which you cannot help destroy you. There are more important things in this world than whether or not you get to fuck in your lifetime." Bouts of depression are things I can live with, and have lived with for a good part of my life, and thus something that I can deal with to a great degree.
So why can I not succeed? Why does it seem that I ultimately will fail at my tasks, or at least do them poorly, if I cannot complete an unrelated function? If I could turn that part of my body off entirely, I think that I would. I no longer desire to 'stick around and wait' because that has neither brought any long term gain. So what if I get a mate and we dance around the rose bush and then get lost in the wilderness together? There will still be a billion mouths that go hungry, a lie that kills a million people, and a hurt that will find me wherever I try and hide. I cannot, and do not wish, to escape my goal of helping this world change its overall course towards something closer to mutual aid and a benevolence for all life. Freedom should be the ideal, not protection from those that we stripped freedom away. But what can I do when I am unable to reach my full potential because of something beyond my power? Should I go for that hardcore, and hope that it succeeds quickly so that I can return full force back to my task, or would it be a wiser decision to not waste my time on such pipedreams and instead use the guns I have as best I can.
Reviewing statistics, I have calculated below the likelihood of ever meeting a female compatible with myself. If it was so simple that having sex itself cured me, I would have gotten it over and done with long ago. Unfortunately what I desire is far more difficult to find. I desire companionship; not a bondage that requires love of me. The free, completely unrestrained sharing of thoughts and feelings. Being with and doing as you please; being true to yourself and by doing so still loving me. That is so utterly unlikely that it causes my body to react with a scowl and a tear. For what sort of freak god would pain me with such a desire? What universe would set itself up in such a way that life is nothing but struggle? Struggle to break away from apathy, struggle to get the food and shelter you need, struggle to survive disease and repression brought by others, struggle to achieve awareness of the ever changing world around you, struggle to right the wrongs that have been done so often in the past. What kind of life is it when you feel that there is an impassable divide between what is and what should be?
What I find most alarming about myself is that I tend to actually produce so much negative emotion in my heart that I begin to despise females in particular, humans in general. Whenever possible, I make attempts to convince myself that I am wrong and that my prejudices are purely based on my biology's bitterness over my own failure to accomplish its goals. And I believe that this is true. Yet my mind tries to ignore this and put up a coat of thought that makes women the enemy because all they do is produce pain in me. Yet is this true? Look around. Is there a woman hurting me? Is there a woman doing ANYTHING to me? In most times and cases, no. The pain is not a result of something women do, but a result of what they do not do (which is often an action itself, but we will not discuss such philosophical quarrels here). They do not listen to me, care for me, love me, console me, lecture me, control me, touch me, ask me questions, consider me, relate to me, destroy me, on and on, forever and ever and whatever. Almost all of my friends are girls, and yet I am constantly under the impression that I have little or no friends in any of them. They are friends up to the point where it is their turn to return the favor and help me with my problems. There is no desire to do such a thing in any of them. They are so overly concerned with themselves and what they perceive as the true problems of the world (their own) that they cannot bother with me and my trivial banter. What is saving the world from poverty and pain compared to the immediate goal of money and sensual pleasure for themselves? There is no creed for long term goals among the womenfolk I associate with. I attempt to break out of this, find new friends and discover where the true nest of caring and strong wills hides itself, but all I discover is another social clique revolving around self destruction and sorrow. The things that they find inescapable and impossibly complex I see as easily solvable problems, but only if given the proper time and willingness to suffer immediately for long term betterment. No one is willing to do this thing which must be done in order to solve their dilemmas, and so they continue to experience them, complain about them, and ultimately suffer from them. Why do they do this? If I knew, perhaps I could find a way to help them help themselves.
Ultimately my troubles appear unsolveable. I can only take potshots at a solution, but there is nothing approximating a guarantee that I will be right. I would not even have a strong reason to believe that I would succeed. I can only flip a coin, draw on my intuitions, and pack allot of hope in my backpack. There will come a day when I no longer have to wonder or think or feel or struggle, but that day is probably (hopefully) a long way off, and so I must make do.
Conclusion: I will not bother with trying to find love any longer, for it seems to do no good for anyone, including myself and the few who do care for me. Instead I will try my luck with dealing with the emotional problems that result from being alone and end my life with the greatest force of good that I can illicit from myself. If I happen to meet someone who loves me, I will of course engage her, but look for her I will do no longer. For once, she can try and find me.
To me there is no point in drilling my thoughts for an answer to my questions because I know my brain lacks the information necessary to produce such a thing. This is really just an attempt to get what I have thought so far down, and perhaps to reflect in the future about it. There is great value in keeping your own thoughts alive by recording them so that they do not vanish like everything else in this world. If not for the sake of others to learn, then for yourself to better understand how you have come to your current state, and what has changed for better or worse.
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[04 Jan 2006|04:03am] |
It is sad
It is 4:03 a.m.
And I have no one to talk to
Nothing I can bring myself to do
I am tired but I cannot sleep
And it feels like I have been doing this
Forever
Subconsciously
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