Lost.

I realized the other day, that you’ve taken away my Halloween spirit. I didn’t have the urge 6 months ago, and the urge has not returned for this year. It’s maddening. I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before.

All I can do at this point is keep fighting to find it again. It is difficult when the ambition is just no longer there.

Fuck.

Perchance, to dream

I think i felt my sleep issue last night. It seems to be my level of consciousness. I’m not sleeping deeply enough, or, my brain is staying awake. I felt myself sleeping, but i was still awake. And I’m probably one of few to actually understand that feeling.

The Gardener — Marilyn Manson

I’m not man enough to be human
but I’m trying to fit in
and I’m learning to fake it

Don’t ever meet their friends
It tells you too much
or not enough
or worse
exactly the wrong thing
every nuance
every detail
every movement
every smell
sound
phrase
inflection
the way she laughs
these are all the things you either obsessively fetishize
or make yourself grow to love
although you are supposed to be done growing
she is still growing
it’s like a garden with two flowers
one just blooming and casting a shadow
just like yours
and then it becomes struggle
of sunlight
or rain
or weeds
she and every she
is doomed to be your idea of her
she and every she
is doomed to be your idea of her

I’m not man enough to be human
but I’m trying to fit in
and I’m learning to fa fa fa fake it

but worse so,
back to the point
you are no longer the flower
and the sun
and most importantly the garden
or the gardener

a muse
the amusement
i am used
it’s all ruined if you meet their friends

she and every she
is doomed to be your idea of her
she and every she
is doomed to be your idea of her
I’m not man enough to be human
but I’m trying to fit in
and I’m learning to fa fa fa fake it
fa fa fa fa fa fake it
fa fa fa fa fa fake it
fa fa fa fa fa fake it
ffffffffffffffa fa fa fake it

you never wanted
to share
your concept of your creation
with any other gods or worshippers
your book isn’t burned
it was never written
your book isn’t burned
it was never written

I’m not man enough to be human
but I’m trying to fit in
and I’m learning to fa fa fa fake it
fa fa fa fa fa fake it
fa fa fa fa fa fake it
fa fa fa fa fa fake it
fa fa fa fa fa fake it

ffffffffffffffa fa fa fake it

Forgetfulness

I guess the worst part of someone presuming to hate and/or never speaking to me again is remembering every day that there must truly be a dangerous part of me. I don’t like believing that part of me exists; i especially don’t like admitting it exists.

I dreamt of love, and dreamt of death, all within less than 3 hours.

I dreamt of love, and dreamt of death, all within less than 3 hours.

Her name was Denise, I think, and now I’m forgetting her face.  I only remember her energy, and the shine behind her eyes, and in that smallest moment, I felt something real again.

The visions always fade so quickly.  Blonde hair, thin frame, infectious smile…but I don’t even know how we met.  I don’t know where we met.  I somehow ended up in her place, and felt a bond so strong that I’d forgotten it was possible to feel that way.

Then she said she had to leave, and both of us felt the pain in our hearts, the tears welled in our eyes, and how we both spoke nearly the same thing at the same time “I haven’t known you long but I don’t want you to go” and then kissed me. And as always, the trouble followed…waking up moments later in the dream, surrounded by other people with her, and an angry family that disapproved of me…and the makeup-breakup boyfriend showing up to interfere.

I remember a pool, and a calm, but dark sky…and of course I’m terrified of water in my dreams since I can’t swim, and even still knowing that I won’t die in my dreams I can’t force myself to overcome that fear.  For this dream it was irrelevant though, I only remember it in passing.

The events following this are blurry now, I only remember that she was supposed to be leaving with this guy for some event, and how she had waited for 2 hours and he hadn’t returned.  Soon he did walk in, and seemed like we were in some type of theater with rows of seats, and I was ducked down watching this argument and fight.

Things got fuzzy again, and then I blinked and was in a living room, and what appeared to be this girl’s father was now yelling at her, and then became angry with me, yelling “this is all your fault, you ruined her life”.  Confused, obviously, I’m fervently questioning what had happened, as she was in tears and the father wielding a knife.  I was near a couch, and the father came slowly at me, frantic and crying, and flung his arm in a large arc from overhead, toward me.  I was just barely out of range, and by some result, the man had slipped forward in this lunge, and the knife had jutted deeply under his sternum during his stumble, and was left motionless and dead in a pile of blood.

The girl then grabbed my hand and we ran outside, and there was a mumbled conversation but I don’t remember the words, and I only remember the sting.  She was smiling that I was ok, and that we just had to go, and then I lifted my shirt to show her what happened.  In the man’s knife swing downward, I thought he’d missed, but had in fact punctured the front of my stomach, which was bleeding profusely and making me weaker.  In her eyes I saw her fear and remorse, how pale she was when seeing what happened…and we turned to walk toward a building as I told her she had to call for help.  The world was fuzzy and dull, but I felt her tears on my hand as I touched her face, and saw only red as I looked downward, and then everything went black.

Reincarnation failures.

Some days i really miss the lives I’ve lost. Things certainly seemed much brighter.

Hubris

The one thing that so often cuts my Hubris is vodka. The only time i find myself weak is after drinking, and in that weakness, i relinquish all my power through simple texts and facebook posts. If only there was a breathalyzer for using a phone after a night out.

The problem with this weakness though, is that it isn’t a farce…it’s real. I hide behind this image of being arrogant and confident, but I’m really not. I’ll always be the shy, awkward boy who doesn’t know how to talk to girls.

So if you ever catch a glimpse of that weakness, I’m sorry, but also, it’s a compliment. It means I’m weak enough to bare my soul…which is something I’ve fought diligently over the years to STOP doing.

April Fool.

It depressed me. I’d hoped that sting would be gone, but it was there once the night was over. I do often wish I was as callous as I pretend to be.

Exhalation

Some days, some moments. I still feel it in my veins. Perhaps i should call it poison…but that’s not entirely fair. This morning i realized i’d stopped feeling the traces when walking hallways at work. That alone was enough to drive me mad, but now I’m not sure when I quit noticing. I admit, sometimes I do hold on to the last breaths of pain as a reminder I’m alive.

twice in as many days.

and now she is back in my dreams?  this is uncalled for.  there’s really no obvious reason (subtle, yes) that i should even bother dreaming of her.  it’s bothersome.  and the first dream was reconciliation and sorrow, second was back to dumping me because i needed to use my free time for work projects and that wasn’t being spent with her.

of course that sounds about right…at least my dream was realistic.  but still, fuck me.  i don’t need these thoughts even in my subconscious right now.