New years

Can't drink.

Heather bailed on us for having a place to drink. Were a group of twelve and now we've no where to go. Now I have to stay sober on new years while everyone gets shitty. 

I can't risk driving, I'm so close to having my record clean

Killing for a reason to live.

can't live for myself.
by myself.
everything is a sickness.
a sore throat hurting when eating.
the constant need to stay warm
yet always sweating.
gratification lasts only moments
and is regret seconds after.

Every one loves power.
Control of an entire life with nothing to lose.

I need therapy.

But I need money.

I need sex.

But I need dignity.

Forgive

The absence of necessity is a direct insult to purpose.

Syndrome

Im sorry. I love you. Im sorry. I love you. Fuck you. I love you. Go fucking die. I love you. Don't be with me. I cant live without you. You're a liar. Life is meaningless without you. Don't talk to me. Where have you been? I hate you. I missed you. Fucking tell the truth. Because I need you. You're a piece of shit. I dreamed of you. You're a heartless bitch. I want to wake up next to you. I don't love you. Will you marry me?

list·less·ly be·reaved

Emotional words come to mind when I don't even remember where I've learned them from.
I had an image open of you on my task bar, I wanted to begin posting pictures of people in love on a medium of social media after admiring a couple I saw.

Speak

I forget how to hold a conversation
because im never truly saying what I want to.
I never show how im really feeling.
No one excepts you for feeling nervous, anxious, and fearful.
Especially when you try to look in them to end these feelings.

Do you even know who I am?

I forgot where I put the hours in my day.
My back aches from the miles I've walked
but the leather in my chair cracks from long continued pressure.

I haven't been taking my meds as much as i should be.
But i feel better this way.

Smoke without Fire

I miss you.

7

Falling in a gaze so deep
Stone makes no sound
and the birds sing in winter,
Where lovers live close-
An animal reintroduced to the wild
Finds where it belongs,
As a thread to a stitch-
What a heart has known to exist
Finds what it never truly saw
until it fell into the fields of
grassy green eyes.

Wallow

Knowing you're destined for nothing beautiful,
Your back aches under the unresolvable burdens you carry.

Feeling

Expenditure

A lover holds hands with another,
Breathing gusts of winter behind a cowl,
A sailing ship weighs the sky down in its wake,
Anchoring the hard-sun, drawing the ill-moon
Thoughts and emotions drawn, dangle
Dangle, on a thread sewn in a faux-silk pillow
The salty ocean dampens the skin like wood at it's port,
Keeping our departing eyes open.
But like a piece of chalk
Scathing fingers at it's end
A dog ceases to bark at a long day's end,
Hiding, hiding under the planks to rest.
The dog dies without shudder.

Heartless Coward.

Belligerent and bloody thirsty
For factual tangible information.
Vomiting a sickness that stains
The essence of conversation.
Accusation of an act,
Defames existence of an emotion.

Defining

Staggering in a field 

A deer paths its way.
Aimlessly trudging through high grass
No longer aware of the birds above

Dropping its guard the creature 

Keels over giving itself unto fate
While the calmness of the dry air soothes its passing. 

Dusk shining its last light reflects
On the eyes of the transient being.
A soft wind creates waves in the grass
As a blink in the eye of a now weary head
Slows the heart at its core.
A gentle breath renders a close to being.

Don't you realize.

.

I can't sleep.

My mind is running.

I have a hole in my chest and I feel absent.

I want to escape.

Find shelter.

Disappear in the darkness behind my closed eyes.

Why do I feel so alone?

Its hard to fathom a day with sunlight tomorrow.

A day with solace.

Festering and rotting my insides like a vial of poison within me.

Blink, phase out.

I can't.

Why not?

You know why.

Its not the end. Its far too hard to tell.

But its so easily related to what I've seen and experienced. How could you say things will be fine? You know the past.

I do.

Then where is your hope?

Where it should be. Be glad you still feel.

Creative

I can't remember the last time I did something creative.

I don't have it in me anymore.

I often find that paths of helping people are spoken of to help those depressed.

I wonder now, why it is I don't believe it?

Maybe because I've done it so often before.

I know I enjoy it when the moment arises to do good.

But I can't remember those good thoughts during the day.

Maybe my depression is coming from fighting the flow.

The flow of my life, and where i truly am.

Maybe I need to accept what I don't like and find new ways to get around those obstacles.

And I feel the only way of doing that is trying new things.

One day ill get tired of eating paper.

Introspection

I mask feelings in
Drinks and fleeting pleasures
Rather facing myself in a mirror.
I hide from responsibility
As it calls for recollection
Of this man beyond the reflection.
I've become so easily shaken,
Cracking under
The weight of a feather
Only to be better
After a night of sleep
The reminiscing reminder
Of being 6 feet deep.
No names, no feelings,
No reasons, no meaning.
A place where there is
No weakness in retreating.

Forth

I battled in my head the thoughts that were making me angry. As I drove I'd pay attention to every last person's detail to the road. It infuriated me. People driving slow, driving in and out of lanes, and so on. Thinking now how they could get away with breaking the law and feel so absent minded about the world probably struck me sub consciously.

I spent the afternoon with my mother.

You should do this.
You should talk to your cousin.
You should not worry about your criminal record.
You should take it easy.
You should pray to god.

All on top of her broken English. When she speaks it's so mentally intensive to understand it wears me down trying have a conversation.

I avoided eye contact the entire encounter. It hurt me inside to know I owe her everything. Her support with money and giving me food.

Dig

Wanting something new.

I couldn't stand being around anyone today. Everything felt like fire in between my fingers. I cringed when I woke up to a fridge of things I found bland. There were some eggs in cartons. eggs in a jug. eggs in a box. eggs in a bag, and eggs wrapped up tight. I thought of how I was hungry, but couldn't find anything but eggs to eat.

 Pain pressed in my mind and stomach thinking of how I'd lose weight.

I saw my phone had messages from people who adored me, but feared the thought of responding to them. My manager asking if i was coming in from the night before. My friend asking if we were to drink tomorrow. I can easily say I hate interacting with people when they expect things of me.

I had to wake up early and get my cousin's car cleaned, it had mold in the backseat. I lacked sleep and drove half an hour west on a highway. The morning was beautiful. I could see why the elderly loved it so.

I came back home to sleep late into the afternoon finally messaging my friend after 16 hours had passed since he messaged me. He said he thought I was dead. If I read that now, I'd think I already am.

I had to go to a meeting for my drug recovery program. A constant reminder of how the system is ever so fucked up. I sit, looking at all the faces of kind people. Kind as they may be, I didn't want to hear a fucking sentence about their life. Of course that's what we were there for.

I feel bad for the people in my group, I do. But with my experience thus far... The more I hear about how shitty people's lives are, the less I care.

Sure let's stay around for a fucking extra 15 minutes after an hour and a half. And then we'll talk about things I don't have and can't have because pot is such a menacing and devastating drug. Sure! Yes! Let's do this!

I'm becoming so disassociated with life.

I day dreamed on the way home from the meeting of a life where i'd just buy a motorcycle and drive off. Anywhere. Get a small job and leave all my friends and family. Live by myself in solitude. Thinking now of how hard life would be on my own makes me want to take my own life.

things i'm grateful for:
a bed.
a computer.
games that sometimes make me happy.
a phone.
a nice car.
a friend who is a mechanic.
warmth when i sleep.

You're far too cold for me to feel fulfilled.

Gruesome

Cracks of stress
Destroy the surface
To partialize and fragment
Something that was once whole.

But it is just the action
Of releasing pressure.
A resolve to a
Once bounded force
Now free to separate further
That which cannot be.

So I ask if i am flexible and
Fully intact, or dispersing
Farther and farther becoming
Unrecognizable.

Peace

Don't talk don't breathe.
Don't think to think.
And especially don't laugh when I'm serious.

Heat

Buckle as I do
Because I will help you stand
Cry when you don't have to
When you lose your castle of sand.

I keep forgetting to take my meds. Days are like molecules of air, indistinguishable yet one. I can't think of the word that replaces one. I believe its definition is something to be apart of a larger system, someone do help me?

Faults

Little crow
Sweep the wind under your wing
It is not easy to fly.
Perch your feet on branches strong
Weak limbs will bend and break.
Drink from water away from others
They will stave you far.
Little crow
Grow big so you won't have to lie.

Not about anyone.

Bastion

A lack of breath
Is common hereafter.
As I become apathetic
When I write finding nothing
of what I used to.

But obviously with all my writings
Something brings me here.
To vent and displace emotion on a platter.

Alone and alone I dwindle
Circling arm in arm with disaster
Never finding what I'm after.
Is it true your arms of liberty?
That this is divine and that is destruction?
To act right separates me from my own parts.
Dividing self into a hollow case.
To gamble pries my nerves to the surface
Making razors to lips and affectionate trysts
My skin and heart know this.

I ask myself things of grave importance when I'm drunk. Its annoying because I feel things make more sense when I'm inebriated. Anxiety seems to take me over where I need to be to function properly.

But more importantly I feel lonely with out love.
I'll go to sleep thinking of you.

Gratutious

Loss.
Mixed of
Redundancies and
Unfathomable desires.

Human qualities

Eits

I imagine amazing things happening in my life with you
To this song.

Furious

Because youre as gentle as a bulldozer stuck in drive.
Because id do away anything trivial  for you, all just to make you happy.

And you?

You put yourself first. Like a prominent tattoo that reads "fuck you" on your forehead.

I am insecure.
Im afraid of losing someone I need in my life.
As I triple check my locks on my door because I cant imagine a life where id have nothing.
As I am paranoid, that everyone hates me even though they are my friends.
As I believe I am nothing, even though I breathe.

I dont want you to be getting off my friends.

Testing boundaries throws lightning down my spine urging me to lash and scream.

Sow your wild oats - just without me.

Its too much for me to handle.

I'm beginning to feel
as if i'm a cup filled with water.
I do not know that I am filled.
I've lost what made me realize this fact.
So i'm constantly pouring more and more
into myself, overflowing everything that I have.
Changing only the surface, Yet still holding
everything I need.

Blackhole

Eating ideas, thoughts, and salvation.
Its an abhorrent entity
That has to exist
For all other beauty to flourish.

Asshole

My grandmother passed away on the fourth of July. I didn't cry when I first heard it.

I was laying in bed the morning of the event. I was asleep and had heard my phone go off relentlessly. My phone read "Madre." She frequently decides to pester me. I put it off. After four or five more alarms I finally mustered all the energy in me to wake up and check what it was she needed to tell me. "Grandma's dying." I thought to myself, what else is new? I had already known that she had developed anasarca within the past few days but I started to think, maybe this is it. This may be the day she dies.

My mother's text told me she was 60/40 through some form of horrible English. I get flustered every time I read whatever it is she has to tell me. I told her alright. There was some seriousness in my voice because some part of me still felt what was going around in my life. She told me to call, so I tried. I actually didn't hesitate to do so at all. I guess it takes someone dying for me to actually have the motivation to speak to someone when needed. There was no answer. My mother told me to drive to my aunts house, because she heard someone there got in contact with her.

I drove over, saw my cousin with red eyes sullen. My Aunt stood atop the stairs. I asked if they talked to Grandma yet, and they told me she passed away 5 minutes before I got there. I had missed my opportunity to speak to her because I decided it was more important to sleep in. I didn't care. I said "Oh. Okay." Little did I know my Aunt was frantically trying to reach my grandma in the hospital. She called up one of our relatives who was there with her. "Dave, on the phone. Answer. Hurry now." My family never had a single class of ESL. My cousin mark asked if i wanted to speak to her. I said, isn't she gone? He responded yes. My aunt still hysteric, said she's just sleeping hurry. I rolled my eyes and thought there might be some value if i still spoke to her. At first I told my cousin I didn't want to, but my Aunt insisted, so I did. I spoke to her.

"Grandma? It's me. I love you." I broke into tears as I leaned against the wall of my cousin's office. "It's Dave, Remember me?" I began to break up. "I.. I love you so much Grandma. I hope you're okay. I want to thank you for everything. Thank you for everything. Thank you for being there for me. Taking care of me. I love you. I love you Grandma. Thank you."

She took care of me more then my mother had. She practically was my mother. My real mom, was always working from 7 in the morning until 10 at night. I love her and appreciate her dearly for working so hard because I know it was for us. But my Grandma was the one who walked me to the school bus, fed me, and took care of me whenever I was sick.

There was a service today, at my same aunt's house. I didn't want to go. It was to be at 5:00pm but I didn't care to get ready until 5:10.  I rather wanted to watch another episode of Breaking Bad, and eat left over pizza on my counter. I finally got ready and told my mom I was leaving at 5:15pm.

When I got there I realized everyone was waiting for me to start the service. It was 5:40pm. I didn't care. I planned on leaving as soon as possible. My entire family was there even with some extended through in-laws. Everyone was happy talking amongst each other eating. I was glad they were, they weren't overly excited to be there of course.

As the service started a few moments after my arrival, I leaned against a wall in the living room drinking some water. my mother sat closest to the front near our pastor and gave me an angry and stern eye to come next to her. I shook my head looking angry back. My two nieces then told me to go over to her not knowing i was telling her no. I didn't feel like extenuating my anger for my mother towards them.

As soon as I sat down, my mother put her hand on my leg palm down. She began rubbing my leg. It pissed me off. She turned her hand upside down raising her fingers trying to reach for my hand. I push her away with my leg and look at her angry. She treats me like a fucking child. They begin the service by singing a song in a book of hymns. My mother put the book on my leg in effort to encourage me to sing. I stared into space. I didn't care to be there. The entire ride over I was looking for ways to devalue the meaning of the service; saying, "We already met the day she died, why again?"

After the hymn, our pastor decided to open up to us asking everyone to share memories of our Grandma. Everyone in our family knew that I was Grandma's favorite. She cared about me the most, it's why she chose to live with me and my mother for most her life. My mother noting the possible familial gain and respect of a good speech nudged my leg relentlessly. She then went on to say my name twice in a begging whisper because she knew everyone would be looking at me. I responded with a slight glare toward her direction. My aunt then also added on my name not noticing the overwhelming actions of my mother. I didn't give a shit. I wasn't going to speak by their terms. If i feel like speaking I would. I wanted to, but I couldn't with having my mother being such a fucking construed and contorted mess of rusted barbwire entangled in my skin. I don't need anyone to throw my name into a hat for my own service and this point in my life, I don't care about myself so it's easy not to give a fuck about anyone else. My cousin at my right laughed at the situation and said, "Okay, well I'll start." A few select people in my family said some words and I laughed at moments fondly remembering my Grandmother.

My mother spoke, "I can only imagine what was it was like for her." She began tearing up; crying. I put my arm around her to console her. I still love her despite how much she can make me upset and angry. "I only have one child and.. when I think of him and how he doesn't respond to my messages I worry so much. - pause - and then I think of how she did it with 11 kids..." A spark of anger ignited in me because of her seemingly intent pause and comparison of how much trouble I give her compared to eleven children. Maybe Grandma didn't have that much of a problem because she didn't overbear on their lives. Did you ever think of that? Just because I don't speak when you want me to and ignore your unreasonably frequent messages doesn't give you the right to upset me at grandma's funeral. Maybe I would give more of a fuck, if you had your own life and wouldn't put me in the center of it. Everyday she messages me. About things she's already said, about things I already know she will, about how she's worried about the most impossible and improbable events to ever occur. She's come to my work searching for my car after I had failed to respond to one of her messages the night before. She's paranoid, delusional and feels no need to reconcile with herself.

After her speech the pastor spoke a final word,  "As Dave's mother had said, she's had trouble with one of her children..." Fucking Christ, why the hell do I have to be the center of topics? At this point I was pissed and felt everyone was attacking me if they mentioned my name.

As the service ended my close cousin I lived with made some jokes about the intensity of religion and how we needed to accept God or we'd be doomed forever. He made me feel better about being there. I ate a few parcels of food and lied to my mother telling her I had to go for a meeting. I got out without saying goodbye to anyone.

Reverse

Separation from anxiety.
Finding self in a haze,
Unclear yet fathomable.
But it does exist.
The only unfortunate part is that it
won't be permanent.
Only temporary.
Aided by a memory
with holes like a sponge,
The facet of clarity
that shows me the way of happiness
and solidarity,
Will fade, as my brain forces
new memory to replace it's existence.

Drugs.

So Far.

I've come a long way from when I first started writing on this blog. I've lost a lot of structure. But it's alright as far as I'm concerned.

At the beginning of everything, I was writing as I first left Ex. It was weird, because I truly just wanted to write my journeys as it was really me taking life head on for the first time. Taking life by myself. After having lost most my friends it took me until just now to figure out that I just didn't know how to be myself.

Assertion

Welcome.

Cutting

Without ties, we are efficient.
Emotionless automatons
Holding no quarrels that play out in their minds.
They work straight forward and to the point.

I desire metal.
A heart of gears and brass fittings.
I've seen the wake of my existence.
I know what paths I've tread
So I see clear what lies ahead.

A wine glass is thin.
Fragile.
But if you make it thick,
It will resonate.

Know what leaves marks and scars.
Define that which causes.

Write An Update Because I Said So.

Not about anyone else.

It's kind of hard to imagine writing without, you know. Thinking about it. But for some reason, right now, I don't feel like it'll be too hard to let loose my writing mind. I've a feeling I'll catch some shit for it, but it's whatever. It puts the lotion on it's skin.

Well an update. Things are quite. Different. I was a little fearful and still am. But first:
I haven't heard from Ember in quite a while, but I know I will sometime in the near future. It'll be something about how she found this new song that reminds her of us and what we "have." I'm fearful of how I'll answer her. I don't know what I'll say. But I will.

Tuesday, you make it hard. To be, Unfiltered.

For the past few days, we've been close. Real close. So, fucking heart whelmingly close. You know how I feel about love and I know you don't like it. At least, you've shown me you don't like it. But you fucking elate me. Sugar tastes sweeter. The sun shines brighter. Words and metaphors carry such intense meaning and are increasingly far from innate. It's like there's something coursing through my veins taking hold of the darkness I have and finally putting it to rest..

When we first started speaking, it was... beyond.. anything. I blacked out in my eyes. I couldn't see anything but the bits of text on my messenger saying you were calling. The ringing. The fucking OMINOUS ringing. It was LOUD and PIERCING. It fucking exacerbated my already over-driven anxiety. God. I was so fucking careful. Obsessively careful. Making sure every word I wrote to you was in no way offensive in the slightest, all facilitating my dreams and hopes of getting to this point were at now. When you answered, I read some corny joke.

You laughed. And with those sounds of happiness echoing in my mind, paint was thrown on a canvas in my mind. Putting attributes to every word, judgement, opinion, and ideal you've ever told me. It was light and high pitched. Delicate and innocent. With a laugh like that, you'd be high-class Disney-princess for christ sake. Before I could continue on, you hung up.

My heart was dragging behind me all day. It had dropped to the floor and put me in shock. With my head on the ground with my feet in the air,  my whole body seemed to just sink within itself knowing after 3 years what you really sounded like.

To bring up to date, it's been 3 days since we first spoke. We've been talking since. I fucking LOVE EVERY SINGLE GOD DAMN MOMENT OF IT. I'm fucking obsessed. I'm far too into this. I'm forgetting to eat and i'm putting off being around my friends. You're a fucking disease. I know I should NOT be like this. I'm avoiding what needs to be done and indulging myself in everything that is you. But when i'm not around you, when I know I can't talk to you, I panic. I panic and I get scared. I look at my phone desperately trying to sign on to see if your there, just to say a few meaningless words just to have your presence with me.

Infatuation? Who knows, but i'm coming to greater understanding with the term and relationships. All I know right now, is that I don't want to be with anyone else and that I can't spend enough time with you. However, I know I do have needs. But right now I feel in control of them and that I can get them fulfilled. I believe that this is on the right track to be far from infatuation, to be something far far more... intensity.

Tyranny

Am I fucked up?

Its been a while

Fuh. Today was harder than others. I dont know what it was. Ember messages me everyday now, but she never says anything new. She never tells me what she does or talks about things shes into. All she tells me is that she loves me and thinks of me all the time.

I watched a video she made me. God she was gorgeous in it. She spoke with a shudder in her voice. Her mannerisms told me she was nervous. She seemed afraid to talk to me as if id hate her if I knew anything about her.

I feel my recovery is going to be rough while entertaining the thought I could have her.

I need to focus on reading my NA book. My sponsor told me that he'd give me step work to do in two weeks. A little absurd if you ask me. That time is so far, I feel as if hes treating me like im a dumb kid who knows nothing. From the few times ive spoken to him, ive put him in awe having him tell me how he was surprised how introspective and rational I was.

I cant lay out destiny.

Dirt

I bought her a drink.
"Everytime im looking at you doesnt mean im judging you."
She laughed and picked up the hint.
She bent over, curving her back while looking intensely provactive as she grinded with her twin sister.
I found her seeking my attention and it made me reminice the feeling of being wanted.

I tried to leave quickly, she approached me from behind.

I attempted to pry my eyes from the room of younger girls to prevent myself from getting attached. It wasn't long until I became resentful of every person around me. 

"What's your name?" She prodded with a smile.
"Protagonist."
"Ana, nice to meet you. Where are you from?"

I just came back from my first NA meeting. There were far too many younger girls there. I realized I'm out of control. I demanded their attention. I wanted their affliction. I wanted their eyes to be on me. Give us the strength to loosen the grip on the reins of life. I prayed. I averted my eyes from the crowd when possible but found it near impossible to not have their presence affect me. I'm crazy. I wanted to speak but couldn't. I felt defeated. I quickly became full of thorns to avoid everyone. I wanted to get out.

Of stories told, I could careless. I've become heartless. A girl spoke about her sponsor dying of an overdose nearly a year ago and her anniversary is upcoming. She made it seem like a very devastating event in her life. I couldn't care. I couldn't be less empathetic. I felt nothing. I spoke to her later on about getting a book, she easily portrayed her emotions of wanting to be isolated as she previously spoke aloud in the meeting.

Prayer

From reading these books I've found there's a strong emphasis on spirituality. It's not the same spirituality as thought of by most of society. It can even be in the absence of god. To embrace the spirituality as stated in the books, we must embrace the idea of a power greater then ourselves. It's really.. Interesting.

A personal prayer is encouraged to be made, mine came from a sentence of text reworded: 

"Give us strength to loosen the grip on the reins of our lives. So that we may find that we are headed in the right direction, slowly but surely - towards home."

My current resentments

Apart of stepwork:

How my mother treats me
Because she expects me to mess up, shes pessimistic, judgemental

Not speaking to my father
Im afraid to start conversation, its a lot of anxiety because hes close to death.

Being so easily persuaded by a beautiful girl
I cant help but fall in love far too quickly because I feel a need to have someone to care about me.

How I cant answer my phone to my friends
I isolate myself because I cant take the anxiety of speaking to people. I dont have any joy carrying conversation with anyone who isnt a woman.

How my every action only feels worth while if it gets me closer to having someone to love.
Because im dependent on another and I am too weak to be happy on my own.

The Root of All my Evils

Is a woman.
I'm realizing that right now.
And it's hitting me like a sack of bricks.

Antagonizing.

    I
  FUCKING
      FORGOT

How.


To be myself and enjoy it.



I really really realllllyyyy did.



I got this incredible rush on the way to my meeting. I was happy, I was singing on the top of my lungs. I got to the meeting. My back pain kicked in. I hated everything. I hated being there. I hated hearing stories. I felt my head getting warm. I felt like I was getting sick. I gunned out to my car to walk out of the parking lot.

I called my sponsor. I left him a message. I feel like I want to speak to someone right now but, you know who I have? Myself.

My friend Calvary today, he told me: you're the only person you can depend on to make you happy.

Very true.

He told me about his life in the city.

His best friend friend was murdered along with his girlfriend and his brother at a drug deal. Funny, because you couldn't tell by the looks of him that he hung out with such a crowd. They were just selling weed, and by just I don't mean to demean it in the sense of killing. They were selling weight, but it's weed for Christ's sake. Low-life scum bags trying to make it big by selling drugs and saving money. He told me that he kept a gun with 6 bullets in it. Supposedly when the drug deal went bad, there was 6 people there when it all went down.

He also told me, he used to come across people who raped girls and did other fucked up shit. He told  me he and his best friend did it frequently. He went on to describe breaking the fingers of one of the kids with vice grips. Brutal. He said most of them cried but one kid laughed and knew why they came. I day dreamed I was there to deal out some justice. He told me about one soulless prick, we tied him to a chair and we filled a container of gasoline with water; yet it still smelled like gasoline. They doused him with the water relentlessly watching him cry out for mercy as they laughed at him. Maybe he should have realized that raping girls is something that brings conviction in men to seek ruthless revenge. They played with a zippo lighter putting it near his face acting as if he was so close to lighting up. People like him should burn in this life and the next. Calvary told me the worst he ever did was collapse someone's lung, they had to remove it and he now lives with only one. We laughed at their demise and torment. Sick? Maybe.

She couldn't speak, she didn't know how.

"What are you doing?"
"Scratching my shoulder.. You?"
"Touching my hands."
The level of awkward was too damn high. I told her to come to the outside bar to talk to me. She took her time swallowing her nerves. She brought her friend and didn't speak a word.

I had the worst night of sleep that I can remember. I couldn't get comfortable. I wasn't tired. I'd change positions frequently with a pillow between my legs, rearranging the bed several times. And in each movement my back ached at every turn I'd make. As soon as I felt my mind slip into my dreams I'd jump out of it feeling this gnawing pain. I wasn't sure if it was real or not because I couldn't tell where it was coming from. The sheets became hot and made me sweat. I was fully conscious for hours. I'd check the time repetitively: 12:30, 1:00, 2:00, 2:30. Being awake with my eyes closed wasn't meditative in the least. I don't know when I went to sleep. The awful sensation of my overwhelming consciousness stained my dreams. I had paralyzing nightmares that I couldn't shake. I imagined being hit by a train, feeling my stomach drop as I fell from the sky, and knew that I was dreaming. Lucid but impossible to control. I'd convince myself in my dreams that I just needed to wake and did, only to feel that I wasn't moving, that I couldn't.

As soon as I noticed a glimpse of light from behind my eyelids, I woke. My spine hurt. I had sightless memories of relentless scratching of my scalp. Hearing my nails move like a swarm of insects. My skin felt raw and my clothes were stuck to me like glue between pages of a book. Good morning world. I wish I could do drugs.

Burn

I feel my new found age of happiness hit a bump yesterday. Im easily mislead and thusly devastated. Im not giving up. Im not.

She looked at me different than anyone else.

"When are you coming back?"
"Whenever you want me to." I smiled wildly as I returned her wide eyed stare.
He came every day. He was overwhelmingly happy. He always was. Every time I come here, he was laughing making jokes. Terrible ones at that, somehow still lifting the spirits of most around him. He never falters, never having a day of sadness or fragility. How can a man such as he be like this? Carry a burden that many do, yet succeed in such a happy mentality? He is as strong and solid as a marble. Or- his manner was a rouse perfected over years of manipulation. A pleasant cover to a book of horrors.

I looked at her dead in the eyes.

"I want you."

Im in AA as per usual. I got utterly pissed before leaving to get here. I have a paper I need to be filled out every meeting I attend to. I couldnt find it. Two weeks of attendance, gone. Fucking great. I usually dont let anger preturb me longer than sixty seconds. But in this case? I was late, it was raining, I was hungry, and I barely had traction under my balding tires. I was a vulgar hurricane of slurs and anger inside my two door coupe. I wondered, maybe this nature is strmming from my new found.. State of being? Ive missed meds for three days and... Im happy? The anger sounds like im not doing well... But the change in my personality..  its a signal that I am changing. Changing is one thing I havent felt in a long time. Its profound. This slightest glimpse of hope is a drop of water in a long drought desert.

The days I take my medicine I feel the lowest. Its as if the spirit of my depression had been sucked into the pills I took like an evil genie in a lamp.

Stagnation

Im not stuck and im not feeling sick.
Im feeling good.
Not great, not wonderful.
But, somewhere away from stagnation.
I look in this room of addicts.
I see people put their lives out in the open where they want them to be.
They unleash the dogs sadness and self-destruction in this park where they run wild.
For just a moment they can be free to live without burden.

Moving Forward

This blog has been far too affected by a certain someone. I feel it really hasn't been itself in such a long time. And it's my own fault really. Being afraid, filtering the things I've been writing. I honestly didn't feel comfortable writing for the longest time. That's not good for me. Especially when this place is supposed to be one for writing out my thoughts.

After getting into a huge argument, I've realized I've mutated my perception of love. I feel that I need someone to love so badly, but I know what I call love now isn't what it's supposed to be. Somewhere along the way it got completely distorted. I'd take all forms of pain and suffering and assume it was worth it. I guess it would be, if my love was returned. But that takes a lot of hope and patience that will take a toll.

Ember's still alive. I'd be bullshitting if i didn't think of her fondly. But now, with this new idea of love, do I really love her? Do I really have a connection and need with her?

I really feel like I need to take some time off where I don't think. Just go where the day takes me. When I was speaking to ember, i'd tell her things, then i'd ask myself.. "Did i really mean to say that?" Do i truly mean those words? I can't tell. And that scares me.

Embrace

I'm done trying to justify myself to someone who will never believe me.

This is going to be an interesting future, now that I've truly accepted to give up.

Emotionally labile

I woke up this morning worse then ive been in a while. I hated every contraction of my muscle that got me out of bed. My back was sore, my body sweaty. The filth of my mind felt like I slept in garbage. I sat on the edge of my bed staring into space. What am I doing? I thought of everything ive been doing wrong: missing my bills, not calling my sponsor, not registering to college, not answering my phone, not talking to my father, not doing my laundry, not cleaning my apartment, not eating. My cousin left for the army months ago tried contacting me and I couldn't muster the courage to answer. My father is literally sick and dying and i'm not sure if he has anyone caring for him. Ive no career because I was caught smoking drugs. Ive no real friends because I became socially inept. The only actions I comfortably take are ones that prevent extreme consequences - paying bills and going to work.
I'm at work. Im better, but teetering on a fence.

Like a cold calloused demon
You speak words with scorching fire
To prove a point that goes beyond everything I care for.
Because you seem to get caught in pride, finding a need to be in a place
that won't have meaning when I'm gone.
"I'll call you spineless, and more over dramatic."
Because in these words demons want to chip at your soul.
And in leaving a demon is spiteful, spitting in your face
because it is cruel when it wants what it does.
No man should cause a suffering to another,
Especially when one begs that things were simple and at peace.
So what I do with my body is my choice and mine alone.
To call me a beast, is you and your own.
So leave it be that, and do not prod it into my eyes like a dagger.
Because to me, our visions and experiences quite differ.
My actions I believe are for the better,
All I care about is everyone and my other.
But if you don't believe that, don't bother.
All said and done, I just wanted to make you laugh and smile,
Now knowing the only solace of my day doesn't want me,
The darkness of sleep is the only thing that can hide me.

Loss

Loss of inspiration when I have the time.

I often find myself in places where I have beautiful thoughts in places I can't write. Or where I can't draw. Where I think of things in my life that I just need to see out infront of me to figure them out. It's infuriating.

My writing hasn't been as good as it had before because I just don't take the time anymore. I don't take the time to think about what i'm writing and I never have the privacy that I used to.

I love living with Mikhail, but I need privacy. I need time to write. It's killing me not having myself to my computer where I can just write and write and do whatever it is I want to do without having to be afraid. It's not his fault I'm afraid I know, but it's something I can't just find the courage to do in front of him.

I called my sponsor. Yes. I have a twelve step sponsor. A 12-step sponsor is someone to help you get out of your addiction. At first the idea of getting someone like him was just another objective I had to do to get my license. Now I'm finding use in him. I just left him a voicemail.

"Hey It's our protagonist. I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About knowing if i'm an addict or not. This may sound weird, but I don't know if I am. I know I hate being sober. I hate being in my normal state of mind. I just need to get out of my skin so I'd get high or drunk. Does that make me an addict? Well, Thanks."

I feel terrible for things between me and the owl in the trees. I constantly try to interact with her but I feel I only make things worse. I really do care about this owl, but I guess I'm just not with it enough to care for it. I feel like a giant trying to hold a flower, only crushing it every time I try to grasp it. This owl and I, we used to get along so well. We didn't even have to think about it. I feel terrible everyday knowing I make her life worse everytime I open my mouth. The owl doesn't know what to do, and I don't either. I feel at a horrible stale mate where I can only watch her from my window. I wake up every morning so afraid she'll be gone. That I'll never see her again. She's sick from the elements outdoors, but i know she can make it through if she really tried.

Pos

Youre a fucking piece of shit ypu kmoe yhat?.,.i wish mikhakl was.glne.so I coud write

Utter

Feeling low.
I cant stand.
Its hard for me to remember
Everything I want to live for.
What is so wrong with suicide that people cringe in fear?
Something tells me im not seeing things right.

Anonymous

He smelled like piss and an old container of peanutbutter. His mesh shoes were faded and frayed. His socks could reach to his knees but were scrunched down to his ankles. His shorts covered barely half of his thigh exposing his paper skin legs. Strands of muscle would undulate as he repositioned himself in his chair. His shirt a tye dye dark green with a celtic pride style art as a logo on hia front. His hands were veiny. His left ring finger had ducttape over a portion of it. One could tell a lot by this fact. His hair was unkempt, cut like a ten year old child's. His face, wrinkled withered from the hot sun. Stoic and neanderthal eyes and mouth. When he spoke, he had a slur. As if he was still drunk. Words difficultly came out of his mouth with much effort. They were scrunched together like packages on an overdriven assembly line crunching and overflowing boxes toward the exit that which was his mouth. His oil was no longer slick but burnt sludge. The gears cranked on a misfitted bearing like a part in the wrong car.

From the Depths of the Ocean

Ember called me. Such a strange happening. I was at work when I got her message. Hey I want to talk. I responded in shock, what?

Ring. Pick up.
Hey.
Hey, I havent spoken to you in a long time.
I know. Im doing good though.
I cant believe im speaking to you right now. What happened? why are you calling me?
Because I wanted to talk to you. I still think of you.
I think of you too.
I love you.
So why are you calling me? You disappeared.
Im a big girl now, im grown up.
Oh really?
(bullshit filler)
Im at work I gotta go, but I dont want to. When will I hear from you again?
Ill call you tonight.
Tonight?
Yes.
You promise?
Yes of course I promise.
Alright... you sure?
Yes!

That night she didnt call. This was yestetday. She was probably busy fucking some guy. Or crying her eyes out from some sick happening. She told me she was scared of me. That was why she disappeared. Because I was too much of what she wanted. She couldnt handle it. I really believe now that she is crazy; unstable.

Because

I told you so, is a phrase I would never say. Because im empathetic. Because I dont care about being right.

Fuck. Mikhail is always around and bitches when I stay up to use my computer. I just want to write right now and im subdued to this shit cell phone.

Im glad for it. I really need an outlet right now. I feel I havent had a chance to be myself fully this week.

Compute

The cold hearted machine grasped its beloved only to steal the beat of its heart.

He poked and prodded the corpse looking for the smile it had once seen.

Nothing.

Walk

Go right ahead.
Take another step with happiness.
You deserve it.
You absolutely do.
Hold the hand of your lover because you know hes mister right.
By the way hell isnt to bad this time of year if you were wondering.

Oh ive tried.
Trust me I have.
And you think your better?
Well your fucking life and decisions depend far more on "you"
You are nothing more then a slab of clay loosely defined by your genetics.
The day you had your first kiss had a bigger detail on you then your will ever had.
The loving family and friends you grew around with shared your struggles and experiences.

Who would you be if you had no father?

If your mother was a whore

-Addicted to drugs in poverished slums.

If you had no money and had dying relatives?

Would you still be so righteous with your infalliable judgements?

The happiness and confidence in who you are is built around your ignorance and excessive inexperience.

Go fuck yourself with the life I wish I had.

Stand

Holding feet tight.
Toes clutching with eyes wide.
Embrace solidarity.
Because you dont need an extra heart to be strong.
You have the quality of life,
Dont worry for another.

Depravation

Dirt in eye.
What a sting.
Why must I take away the pitcher
For one to ask a drink?
Hard found conviction questions and traces this answer.
Broken a perception as eyes of a fly,
I learned how to maneuver.
But should I carry on with cleft wing?
Or start anew knowing I dont need

Glass

Cold and misspoken
Like a child
Whos hungry
Screaming out to them all,
Why dont you love me?
Needy but late like ash after a fire
He began to question her desire.
Cause cold circuits
Shine such a soulless light.
So he feels that things between
May never turn right.

I've Forgotten

That touch.
The sensation you get when someone is close.
The feeling of such an intense binding that's all too comfortable.

    I was attending my quite "purposeful" A.A. meeting today, as condoned by my Case Manager. I walked into a room that was twice as deep as it was wide. The walls were an off-teal paint you'd find in an aged bathroom at a gas station.
    There was a couple who sat in front of me. They were young, close to my age; if not younger. The boyfriend, wore a fitted hat backwards. His skin somewhat greasy, his clothes stained with a dark overall tinge. Clean but somehow filthy. The room made most people look this way. As if they spent most of their day under the sun laying in the street. The girlfriend had unkempt hair with a dry dark dyed red that's easily imagined to be done as a sub-conscious rouse to make her believe she's a different person. Everyone there had a reason hate being in their own skin. A small portion of her hair was kept up with a quarter sized hair clip atop center of her head that barely served purpose.
    I saw them the last 2 days here and now this the 3rd. As I was contemplating their background stories and making note of their character, the woman spoke, "Hi my name is Rachel."   The room, "Hi Rachel." (Fictional name.)
    She had a tremble in her voice that were hands after prolonged use of a hammer; post traumatic. She told the crowd of drunken addicts, "My friend has been gone for the past two days. We've alerted the police, I would just ask that you would pray that he's okay. We fear the worst." I imagined this is only one of the all too recurrent events in her life. I felt empathetic but the sharp contour of life's chisel outlined the shape of my empty heart to my mind. The boyfriend remained quiet but looked at her as she spoke. A couple that agreed to get better together seemed to be one of the stronger that I've seen.
   She leaned as she spoke.
Close to him.
    Her arm dangled from her frail shoulder toward the ground. I imagined she were a different woman; Not his, not mine, just a lover. The size of her arm fit perfectly into the groove in between my thumb and index finger. I used to hold such arms so gentle. It used to have such an intense meaning that was a path in my mind routinely traveled. I remember it now in value of every millisecond that I had held my lover's arm. But in the actual moment, times of embrace were regrettably in fast-forward. There was never a second thought of the magnitude of emotion that was blooming in those days.
    I tried imagining myself as her boyfriend.
I couldn't.
    I couldn't find the warmth of tactile sensation. I couldn't see the texture of skin that was unique. I couldn't find the glory and righteous light in the firm grip of a hand. I couldn't imagine it. I felt my memory erased. And so, with this lack of emotion, I've forgotten love.
    It left me hopeful, that I may learn to be myself again, so that I may actually re-learn it's way. Of rooting in the dirt, finding it's way back into my heart, with a new home.

Hurt.

Like a plant uprooted

What

AM I WAITING FOR?!

Brace Intensity

Because colors aren't inverse if you try to compare.

Sleep

Because writing doesnt bite. And I dont have to try. And my soul isnt scraped out like a fucking fruit. Because I lost my skin in this fire and blades are ends of a feather. Cause no one cares enough as I did. No one will ever care or reciprocate my echo because no one can just trust as I do. Unfortunately, im in this crux of a burden. Mundayne the antonym for my existance of emotion and feeling in a world where few carry a soul to bury.

Dumb, Yeah Fuck It.

Missing a scent of a feeling
That only drugs can give.

I'm baking in my own mind at 450 degrees.  This lack of expression can't get any more flat. I feel remorse and graffiti running along walls. Like an old paint cracking into a vertical desert from lack of moisture. The connection between reaction and action are becoming broken and undone like an old rope snapping under weight. A hum of a motor I know by eyes and ears come closer as I fear I'll lose my privacy.

Expansive

Missing a piece of gravity

Nameless

Finding a place to put an
Emotion that never had a name
that still has a mark
From the string that tied it to a heart
That had forgotten, it should care
More than someones name.

A life so forgotten
It could not be understood
Because the words of I love you
Was thought of that should.
Because it had repeated them
A definition

Ignorant

Bloody beating bubble
Of muscle in my chest
Cant stop focusing
On what I cant get. Taking
A stab and a wound instead of
Looking for whats next.
Sitting in a dead cold pond
expecting for a fish
When theres a pile of trapped game
I could of had in a dish.

Cut

Slicing venison from it's tendon.
I fucking hate this feeling and wish it were just some slab of meat.
Something easy to cut with a sharp knife.

God. I've to embrace what i'm to go through. But i don't know if i'll enjoy it. It's getting really scary right now. Don't know what this feeling is. I'm going to have to move out of my apartment by the end of the month. I've work in 15 minutes and I've to stay until 7am.

I need something in my life.

All day I've been contemplating. Is love enough? Why is it enough? before it was so indecisive that I had to strive for it. Now? Now i'm starting to second guess myself. Now I'm starting to feel that it's becoming hard to love. And now, without love, what else is there in the world?

Maybe i'm not giving enough chances for anything else to make me happy. My anxiety pretty much takes control of everything and I guess it really skews my life.

Maybe this feeling I have right now latching it's claws into my abdomen is just my unconscious knowing:

I've no money.
I've no career for more then a year.
I've no prospect.
I've nothing to look forward to.

I think I need to pop a vyvanse, but I don't want to lose the weight.

It's calories that move my body now, my soul has been long lost and it's shadow doesn't even remain.

Existentialism

Take it slow.
A man can forget he's human.
That he is tangible.
That his flesh isnt just an image.

And such should know, what you see in a reflection isn't coincidence its a person.

In need of escape

I woke up this morning normal, me and mikhail did our normal routine. I then day dreamed of tuesday and I living together and had somewhat of a bad thought. I imagined her and I laying in bed, my face stoic and emotionless, hers full of pain wishing id just get up. I was still alive just, trapped inside my own mind. Depressed. Thinking of how upset she was now makes me feel better because I know now I would do something about it.

Discern

Breathe
Can you see now?
With eyes unclouded.
Breathe
Pulling a rope from deep in your lungs
Breathe
Peeling the skin from a callaced leather
Follow your clarity

Expiration Date

Ember just emailed me what seems to be a suicide note. Im afraid shell never be happy again, im scared. I feel ill hate myself because I couldnt do anything or ill blame myself for not doing more. I cant tell her I love her, but it really seems to be the only thing that keeps her going despite her not wanting to be around me

Filth

Unearthly
Vehement
Malicious
Being
Eating from where you step
Lying to your own mother
Staving from your dying father
Partaking in inebriating
Depricating
Parasitic drugs that waste
Your time and effort of
Work that you slave for.

Fuck this title

After being tossed in.the.mud?
being forgotten and put behind thought?
Cast it.away.she spoke.
And with unfurling embers.the.fire
Devoured its essence
Now there's nothing but an empty slot that has lost its key.
The door remaining locked kept and staved from all form of a  conscious notion.
To be forgotten as the music a.baby.heard growing in the womb.

Cost of the living

What?

They finished laughing at a joke as they entered her bedroom. It was well kept: a crisp folded bedding, matching furniture, and only a slight mess of clothes skewed the corner of the room far from the eye. "Fuck its dark." Jackal spat with a slight inebriated slur. "Whatever I'm going to change anyway." The Panther's feminine voice was easily heard with that detail despite the wall she was facing. "Would you like me to leave?" Politely asked the Jackal, with his mind already halfway through his daydream where his lips were on her stomach. "No, its alright." Panther implied without even a thought of being pressed upon. She quickly lifted her shirt off her body bunching her hair as it came to her head. It swiftly jutted off and with it came Panther's long luscious hair, pouring out, bouncing as she swayed her head. Jackal's feet became nailed to the ground as he realized his daydream was quickly escalating more towards reality. Her curves were passionate sex and the Jackal concluded her slight gaze to the right of her body asked for domination, as the side of her breast was being shown his primal essence screamed "Fuck her."
She stood there inspecting herself as if Jackal didn't exist. And with the quick moment of ecstasy came decency far too quick for Jackal as she pulled on a shirt and jumped to bed. "Come. Sleep with me." She said without making eye contact as she pathed her way into the sheets. Jackal was lightning to the bed where he was stopped right before he entered the warmth of her covers. "You can take your pants off if you want." Jackal was surging and with her next inspiring breath his jeans joined the skewed pile of clothes in her room. He slid under the covers as he pointed his waist toward her and she lay silently with a smile.

I imagine

Growing old
With a dead tongue.
Lacking of peace and convalesence.
I imagine holding a womans body,
Again
and again.
Never once giving me the feeling I search for.
Ill look them in the eye and watch their efforts never come close to my dreams.
Have I loved too much?
Im sick of searching, ive known the routine far too well than any man should.
Have I destroyed that drive and curiosity that pull most people into a relationship?
I constantly find no one is good enough for me anymore. For a man who lives only for love, this is one of the worst things he could ever face.
Alas, a life alone will be a crazy ride.
I feel I should create art for the enotions ill feel will be beyond most anything.

A Sudden Sickness

I woke up yesterday with a sore throat. The cells in my mouth were too weak to stand. My tongue sore and damaged from a pointless party trick. It comes in waves. Complete and utter illness when I wake then it alleviates, I feel fine. Then as a few hours pass, intense fatiguing will breaking sickness.

I took a shower on the floor of my tub a few moments after I woke. I was too weak to stand. I laid on my sides and even managed to somehow lie face down because the tub was too hard on my spine. It must have been over an hour. I didnt want to leave.

I got out of the shower to look at my computer screen which I see on a daily basis. The same damn screen ive been looking at almost everyday of my life. Wasting time with things that dont matter and hold no value.

I tried watching an episode of the walking dead only to passout on the couch. Sleep is the one place my emotions cant hurt me.

When I woke I went to my bed and slept again until 730pm. Talk about weakness. My hips are still sore from what have you and my legs feel like the bone has been replaced with decade old rotting wood.

Tuesday isnt here to talk to me so i feel utterly alone right now. I dont havr any frienda because I just cant connect the importance in them. I just dont have it in me anymore to be social. Life is fucking grand.

As I Lone

Ill find my phone.
To check it frequently.
Once the number was dialed,
Programmed into many phones.
My inbox would have messages
That my friends would have left.
But now, no one.
Not a single soul.
Every time I peer into my phone,
I find I am alone.
But its only just.
As I realize,
Its because I do not have the energy to entertain them.
I do not have the means to give them reason to keep in contact with me; be my friend.
Ill remain stoic with a stern hard face of unhappiness until I find someone to live for again.

Displace

There is nothing here.
Nothing here,
But ideas and emotions that I need to rid of.
Ideas that tell me ill have someone to pick up my broken pieces.
Break me break me, so that ill learn to grow again.

Coming down.

The vyvanse is wearing off. Im turning werewolf.

I cant take this fucking two faced bullshit that I go through.

Im not reserving anymore. Im planning on dying alone.

Sometimes life is better spent alone.

Where no one can hurt you.

Where you can find your skin still outside your body.

Where your mind isnt afraid of whay will happen when it acts.

Im on vyvanse and im strongly realizing my life is hell without it.

Aced

It's my birthday today.

breathe in. breathe out.

I feel pretty terrible because of how I may act. I feel I have to put up a show today.  Come one come all, to see the great feats of our protagonist. I'm not sure who's going to be there but I could kind of careless.

I slept for 12 hours today not wanting to wake up. Ember messaged me because it was my birthday. There's nothing she says that I haven't already heard of before. I mean, honestly she repeats her self like a broken record. Like some strange entity that's no longer here on this earth. She comes back to haunt me speaking of emotion and times that have past that were once in her previous life.

breathe in. breathe out.

Mikhail has been asking if I'm okay a lot more recently. I guess I'm letting some of myself be seen to the world. It's embarrassing. And utterly confusing at that. Because as soon as he asks not only can i portray that i'm fine, I'll feel that I am somewhat. The way I react I feel is impossible to do unless I am feeling okay.

well guess i'm crazy.

Tears

Come as I sleep.

Closer

Coming closer to seeing what a mirror should.
Im breaking crazy. Especially right before rest.
I dont mean to hurt you Tuesday, but when you're rough, I wont be there to feel it. My skin is worn like fresh flesh of a face dragged on pavement.

Go

Get out. Get ouy of your fucking head. Let out. Stop talking like you dont have a reason. Everyone can bleed. Nothing is needed.

This is for me. For you. The one who doesnt care about himself. So well talk and talk and write and write. Because words outside the mind are an expression.

An expression of emotion trapped inside that we cant find how to release, to get rid of to make us feel normal and that were worth it.

So sobriety doesnt have to feel like a day of regret. A day when you feel anxious for every pair of eyes looks at you. Judging you. Showing you how youre not as good as they are cause they can keep it together.

I feel like screaming

If mikhail wasnt here, id record me going on a rant.

Feeling like poop.

I wish I could think of something to write right now that would make me feel better.

There isnt much I can think of.

Sometimes

Sometimes you just need to push.
Need to dive head first.
Start with that which you are unprepared for.
Only because it's the last thing you haven't done.

Heavy

Heavy air sinks my head onto my pillows
My eyes become more narrow.
The fear of testing is imminent, im afraid things will go sour.
Fucking.my life over in less than an hour.
Making money just for soup
Living on those who are successful.

Cant Could not

Sleep.

Serviced.

Im staring at my keyboard trying to think.

I was contemplating my life as I laid in my bed tonight. As I usually do I might add. Thinking of my life and how desperate I am. Desperate for love I mean to say. I really really am.  I realize something about myself though. Im willing to spend this life I live if im treated wrong and unfairly. So it sounds easy enough for me to float through life. But I guess not.

One thing I miss most of a relationship is the connection you build. Of having someone so close, looking into their soul as they look into yours. That reassuring deep understanding of compassion and empathy that never needs to be questioned.

I wish I could get comfortable in my bed right now. Im lying with my feet where my head is supposed to be and my back is sprawled in a c-shape around a fluffed comforter and pillow. I lie with my boxers half drawn over my unmentionables, and a tshirt thats over hanging on my chest and shoulders.

I crunch up at the irritation of this shitty keyboard as I reminice over days past where id have myself in my room with just the company of my computer where I could type freely in solitude.

Mikhail makes ambient noise as he clammers over the furniture in the dark in the other room. I hear him manage the door to the bathroom.

Hell be gone in the morning as hes finally found some  measurement of work. That leaves me to myself. As much as I miss it im depressed because I know how my day will go as hes not here: I wake up, I search for the bed and my eyes for every ounce of fullfilment before I struggle to brace myself for the day. I stand up. I go to the bathroom and judge my day. Mikhail isnt here. The house is filled with this sullen quietness. As if there isnt a soul in the room. That meaning even my own. My depression intensifies when I step out to look at the empty living room. Theres no mikhail to annoy me to keep me out of my thoughts. I try to muster the will to put contacts in. I feel relief putting them in only to realize theres nothing better to do besides check my computer for messages from no one. Ill stare at my desktop, browse reddit to scavenge for happiness. Eventually the pain in my stomach drives me to eat. And by this time ill have wasted my time playing a meaningless game and prepared for work at 2. The only light of my day comes to me when I think, maybe ill meet some girl who ill fall in love with today at work. Ill work, find no love but only people that ill remember to have never made eye contact with besides to say hello or get orders from. Ill play games and eat, mikhail will be there to lessen my thoughts. Ill get tired, embrace loneliness and wish I was dead. Ill go to sleep writing to hope to take away what I feel. Then when I wake, ill repeat with only very very subtle differences.

Right before I sleep

I want to say, its not worth it to be me.

I constantly spend my nights struggling to be happy.

I just dont fucking get why I cant be. Nothing bad has ever happened to me in my life. Nothing. My family loves me, i have a great career, and im somewhat attractive, or at least im told so.

But yet despite these things, id rather live fucked up high off my ass than be sober. Its not worth it to think clearly. Being me in my skin is far from where I want to be right now.

Why wake up. Why wake up.

Love is the only thing I know to keep carrying on, but I know many do not want to love a depressed fuck like me. Thinking im creepy and needy with problems that make me strange.

And who am I? What do I love doing? Rotting in a cage made of plaster and dry wall slowly seeping into a mattress until im some dark stain thats unbearably foul and putrid. Fuck off life.

Fifteen

Ive a feeling that without Tuesday writitng may be my only outlet for a while. That makes me anxious so hopefully ill be able to get out of my head while I write. Speak. Splurt. Expectorate.

Im at work and ive still 5 hours ahead of myself to tackle. My back is beginning to give out and my eye lids are losing the battle to stay open.

I saw a video not too long ago, about reality.  It said that we often fear the future. That were afraid where we will end up, if we'll get that job, if we'll be homeless next year. The fact that we are fearful of the future shows that were afraid of something that hasnt happened yet and we wont know if it will or wont happen until that time. So to be afraid of something that doesnt exist, means that we are afraid of something imaginary. Something made up completely in out minds.

Tuesday.

Insomn

Im laying In bed wrestling with my sheets. Its so hot under them i feel humid all over. Like a mid equator jungle under a canopy of sweat. My eyes feel dry from my use of contacts as I manage to type on this four inch keyboard. The moans of Mikhail echo from behind the bathroom door. He seems he will be praying to the porcelain gods until morning. A long night of alcohol and regrets brought him there on his knees. He told me of a girl he had met, only to find someone confront him, saying she was his. That her body was his property, insuating that sense I imagine. The woman should have known better than to let an approaching man converse her for an hour with no expectations. Youre not a fucking tall tale come to life, you were probably just a set of tits and ass covering your disfigured personality. Pain still comes despite one looking the other direction.

Tuesday didnt come on today. That really worries me. The thought of not knowing when ill speak to her once more. I find my mind often wanders to places with her presence. Playing out the scenarios of life and how itll be.

Im often conflicted of the thought of living in a city. Imagining how busy and fast paced the streets would ne overwhelm me. The presence of others and the many eyes noting my existance; judging me faster than I can comprehend. The personalities, the possibilities, the reactions, the opinnions, the tangents are endless with so much information seeping through every little detail thats as apparent as the brightness looking directly into the sun. I cant wrap my mind around it. The acceptance of that happening is like trying to push a nail flush into my skin.

Weakness

Give me strength give me strength give me strength.

I cant.

I can not.

Im afraid.

Of that which is imaginary.

What Do You See

Scary.

Not

A fucking kid stabbing at his door.
Someone who yells at the night.
Curses at someone when they don't get what they want.
A poor hack of a poet
With words without creativity
Telling you believe me I know best.
But.

Dream

I took a melatonin supplement to help me sleep last night here's what resulted:

I was on vacation. I took a boat to a large hotel that encompassed an entire cliff side that stretched out as far as i could see on both sides. The cliff met the ocean without a beach and it seemed that the place we were in was in some far off distant land. There was caverns carved out into the cliff that went deep into the ground. It was beautiful. There were thousands of people there. Everyone was so happy to be there. I was on a ship with over a dozen people, Mikail being one of them. We were talking about how amazing this hotel would be and how we didn't understand why everyone loved it so much.

Soon enough we got to the dock on the cliffside. We were greeted by people who had previously been staying there that somehow became apart of the hotel's staff. It seemed that they just wanted to work for the hotel after having loved it so much there. We were greeted with warm smiles and welcomes that seemed so sincere. We took a tour of the main hall and we met at the front desk where we told the secretary what our rooms were. The group we were with dispersed and as we walked down a few corridors we could see hotel rooms that looked down on us. The caverns were as honey combs in a beehive. 30 stories high with catwalks that braced each side. We were led by another individual who took our now smaller group to our rooms.

Our guide kept a warm smile and looked into the distance as if they were watching a movie that thoroughly entertained them. We pressed to call the elevator. Two people came out behind the doors of the elevator. They looked different. One man's face was stone cold. He looked like a statue and was the first person I saw that didn't have a smile on his face. He walked calm and collected like the rest of us, but his face.. it was just something of serious importance. The second person wasn't collected. They were nervous. They had a jittery skip in their step looking around as if someone was watching him. I thought of how strange the pair was and entered the elevator with mikail and the rest of the group.

We stepped out onto our floor and the guide turned around walking backwards explaining things to us. I couldn't recall everything she said, but she mentioned that this would be the most beautiful and relaxing experience of our lives. And it was true. I felt it. As we kept walking onward the guide's voice became nothing but blurred out mumbling that I could no longer focus on. There was something inside of me that was growing.. This feeling of reassurance, this feeling of happiness and being content. I felt beyond happy as we neared our seperate rooms.

One by one our group went into their rooms. I lost track of everyone around me and only followed the physical gestures of the guide. I finally got to my room as I felt drugged. I felt so fulfilled with happiness it was overwhelming. I felt as if I was stuck with heroin. I stood there looking into space as if I was watching that same movie my guide just was. I realized that we had stopped, I looked at my guide and she had her arm up pointing to my room and telling me to go inside. I apologized for being so delayed and I broke a smile and she seemed to understand.

I walked inside. The lights were off. I walked forward, and didn't care that I couldn't see a thing. I felt so reassured that I just didn't care. I took a few steps in and felt so overwhelmed I just stood there in the darkness. The guide closed the door behind me. I lost track of time.

I heard a ring, a call. My door opened by itself and I saw a few people walking outside my room. I walked back out and still felt that same happiness. I found myself walking in a single file behind everyone to a larger community room. We had food laid out for us. The hall was loud and people talked about their experiences. I found Mikail and we talked about how amazing everything was ourselves.


I'll finish writing later.

___
Fuck me, I browsed through drafts and realized i never found this.

Loop

Write.

Write.

Write.

Write.

Write.

Right when I decide. For every letter is where I want it to be. I'm realizing where I cannot
confide.

Where I cannot, place the thing where I grow so tired of carrying. The thing that I hold in my hands, that makes me seethe so deep. It hurts so much more, when I believe I see a shelf, a ledge to put down that which will bury, when it is no more a mirage or an image, something imaginary.

I need to learn, to stop putting costumes on people. Because they're not who I say they are, no matter how hard it is breathing. I know time is ticking and I'm losing sand. But life isn't an hour glass more or less a window. Where time doesn't matter because who values a clock? A second more than a fine food, an hour more than a poem, a day more than a friend?

Doesn't matter? I'll fool myself soon. To thinking it's hopeless, that i'm beyond all that recovery. Making myself realize, that i'm not that bad, until I realize, I'm still sad. So with broken records, I'll be in a loop. So I love life, but if you ask me, death can't come too soon.

A Drug Without the High

It'll suck you in
Like a droplet of water down a sink
Sap your essence right when it's too late,
to grasp your sense of right and
wrong.
And you know without it,
Life cannot go on.

Lacklustre

It's valentines day. Guess that means I give myself an extra bit of loving today. That reminds me, I need more lubricant. Hah. I've cut my hair into a mohawk, and I love it. At first it was to short but now it's grown in. I've gotten compliments as well as "Jesus Protagonist your so intimidating." I laughed it off and thought of the old days when I was in highschool.

I'm searching in myself for something to write about, something that I have conviction for. I love that word, conviction. The first time I really heard of it, it was from x-best friend, the same one who X moved in with and had a fling. We were talking about something useless like politics at the time and I believe we went to Washington for some kind of rally.

Politics. Ugh. The notion of it is so hard to think of now. I had some thoughts of insight toward politics and people today. Most of us, won't care about politics. Plenty of us, won't care about senators or even who the president is. Why? Well look at your life. How bad is it right now? In America we've food, water, entertainment, drugs, alcohol. We're sated. We're not hungry for a change. We're not in dire need of a better tomorrow. So politics? Politics is bullshit until it directly impacts our lives. The main involvement of everyone who follows politics I feel is fueled by fear, that tomorrow is going to be a new hell, when really it's never going to be that bad. However I hope when it does impact most of us, they haven't crossed to far of a line that it'd call for a revolution.

It feels so good to talk about something else other than myself. Fuck! I just remembered. I may still be enrolled in my college at jersey city university. I never canceled anything, but I also never registered for classes. However.. the head of the university in the branch that I go to seemed to have signed me up for one class without my premission.. Well. Fuck. I'm too afraid to confront it. Like being diagnosed with cancer and refusing to accept it.

I have to go to the doctor to get another prescription of vyvanse. It's been a while since I've felt flawless and endlessly happy. I could use it for trying to get my shit together.

Also, Tuesday, get your fucking internet working.

Pulsing

My blood slows as I sleep. I hope to forget the demon chasing me.

Seethe

God im scratching at the walls right now. Im yearning for a woman. Im dying for one. Im half a step from txting every girl I know. I need love god damnit. And its driving me insane. Im so afraid of just letting go right now. Letting go of striving for love. When I think if I dont try to find someone i feel ill be alone forever. That ill die before I find love. Im crazed right now.

Absence of Another

Feels strange. I'm actually finding things I like again. I feel it's brought on because I'm realizing I have no one to strive for. I have no one to try to make love me. It feels like the time i'm spending now should be the way it's meant to be spent before finding love again.

Didn't

She didn't message back today. It's been a long while since i've dropped something heavy on her lap like that. I hate the days when it's rough for her. I hate it even more knowing I can't do anything about it let alone know anything about it. And then when we try to converse, well it's almost like there's no gas in the tank. She seems spent from the day and can't even carry a smile. Then I imagine she thinks of shitty times, like long ago. Then she lashes out on me. I still wish I could just hear her voice. Place another piece to her puzzle.

I'm feeling better today. missing medication is quite a step back.

What happens

When you dont feel the urge to open your eyes when you know a wonder of the world is infront of you?

When you live off basic instincts and preformed habits prior to disease?

When the only hope of happiness is constantly challenged and found to be a dead end rouse?

Im feeling drastic.

Real.
Fucking.
Drastic.

Trevor.

Living with mikhail has it's tolls. Privacy and being alone feels so relaxing at times. It's honestly been weeks since i could talk to my self aloud and just do whatever it is that I wish to do without having to acknowledge the presence of another. He's out drinking at a dead bar for the lack of a better thing to do.

We're poor. We're pretty fucking broke.

I've had to pay for 3 drug tests in the past 30 days just for this stupid motherfucking evaluation for my god damned nursing license. I just hope i'll still have my head on straight by the time I actually become an employed nurse. I've attended 3 meetings already with drug addicts who were actually drug addicts. The only reason I'm under the light right now is because of a petty charge of possession of marijuana and paraphernalia. Marijuana was my way to escape. Now I have alcohol, yay, that's only you know, far more debilitating and completely detrimental to your health. Thanks American government, you've really made a difference in my life.

Shit was so rough today. I woke up late for work. I set my alarm wrong. an hour late. I check in to my drug check, I have a test due. I have no food to bring to work to eat for lunch, so I need to spend 10 dollars a day that I work on food. It's as if I'm literally breaking even with the hours I work just for the food and gas to get there.

I had the intense feeling of needing someone to care about me tonight. And guess who was there for me? Myself. Too bad he don't give a damn.

I looked at myself in the mirror today.

I hated what I saw.
I hated my face.
I hated my hair.
I hated my skin.
I hated what I wore.
I hated the curves of my skinny cheeks.
I hated how when I looked at my glasses you could see they were old and worn.

You know what I did like though?
How when I look at my body,
I'm skinny as a rail
to the point where it's disgusting.
I hate my body. I just want to escape right now.

Thought

I realized why I get angry when I see an asshole with a beautiful woman.

There is nothing in this world that means more to me than someone who can love me and be there for me; changing everything in the way I see my life just by standing by my side.

Wright Goeh

With one eye
A time will fly.

With two
It may upset you.

And three?
All but everyone except me.

A Drug without the Obscenity

Obscenity. I don't know if i spelled that word right.

Today was mundayne. It was strange because it felt happy. until I took my medication of course. For some reason or another, I've it in my head that when I take my medication immediately after my day goes to shit. I've been taking it every other day now, trying to lower my levels.

I've so much shit to catch up with. I haven't seen my mother fucking doctor, i haven't seen my college counselor, I haven't been abiding to my contract for my


my eye hurts way more than usual. i just took my contact out and i can so easily imagine my sharp nail just cutting into the white of my eye. Digging in, scooping a portion of it out. Leaving nothing but a chunk of space where something should be. t's slowly filling up with blood now this space. it seepeed through some smal capilaries that lay just under the white. It's pooling up congealing closing uip the wound. My eyes are shut so excusae the errors if there ar. a constant squeal when the laptop gets asurge of a fcharge. Whe ni plug in the power to the wall it humms non stop. It's a dying cannary that steals your attention and focus. Throwingasdf

Fuck. i miss how elaborate my writing once was. I felt it was so much more focused then it is now. But i guess that's because of who i've become. I wonder if it reflects the type of person I am now.

I used to write with purpose and such thought in every little word and detail. I felt like talking with Tuesday made me write more "raw" as she put it. Without thinking. But There's more beauty in the intricasies oone could develop  with time/

Theres 

MOTHER FUCKING . stupid ass laptop keeps fucking my writing up. it puts things in places where they don't belong!@ gjsdflkgjs;fgksjf well fyck thuis. i'm going to sleep.

Speaking of Which

I felt like going to sleep right before I serviced myself. Fuck. Nothing feels better than that one high that keeps on giving. I realize now that I may always be fighting life with Highs. Technically everyone does, just not in a form that you could measure.

I felt like being truthful  Honest. Writing things to get off my chest. But i'm just not sure where to begin. Talking with Tuesday made me feel, like there was something wrong with me. And I swore there was a few moments ago. Even when I wrote the title of this post.

I'll go to extreme lengths to make someone love me. It's so hard just getting that feeling with someone knowing how easy I can make it thrive if I were only to have someone who would just go with it.

I had seen it time and time again, girls becoming cautioned of me. I believe it's because of what I look for in someone, love. And I guess I just show it on my face in my words when I ask intense things and act like it's all too familiar. But I can never be sure about that.

I feel that it may be a long time that i don't have someone to actually be with me and fall in love with. Sure i may get a girls number here and there, but nothing ever lasts. I feel as if most girls are just so involved with friends and their schooling that they don't care about a relationship as much as I do.

Tuesday is a reoccurring figure in my mind. I really believed her to be someone I could always come to and feel comfortable. But as of late, she's been short with words and it feels as if she's taking out things upon me. Without explanation at that. And because of it, I can't help but get frustrated now when I speak to her. A few days ago we were so indepth in conversation and I laughed so much that it hurt to smile. I should tell her that, but I fear her face has been casted in iron this week.

I don't deserve to feel unwanted. I don't deserve to feel, closed out. I don't deserve to be stabbed at.

I'll find love one way or another, it's my main prerogative. Albeit with Tuesday or not. I hear her now in my head, "You don't mean that, stop saying it."

Sick Puppy

Go home little boy.
Go home.
You need not
Carry this weight.

So what you care about her.
She can't believe you.
So what She'll speak with you,
Love is like steps on moss
just above water.

She can't trust you.
So it's dumb to even fathom.
A
life
with
Someone
who makes you laugh
and
be
happy.

Reading this, I must be crazy.

Don't ingest
the thing your heart tells you best
Pain. Feel. Pain.
Because a girl can't take your guts.

And FUCK those, who say
Grow some balls.
Be a MAN.
Someone who can be strong on their OWN.

I've been far stronger than most could be.
I've had more courage than many could ever muster.
And I've recognized the personality,
The characteristics,
The methods,
The strategy,
Of so many fucking dull minded sheep.
So Don't you ever dare my value.
Because I've power in my hands and I choose to hold it.
Because I've found

NOTHING
TO
BRING
ME
HAPPINESS
WITHOUT
Love.

Because i've tasted the world.
I've walked for miles in empathy, the shoes of so many
I've found much of what Life has had to offer.
And I can say honestly, there is nothing sweeter,
Then love.
Nothing more deserving,
of time,
obsession,
passion,
and effort.

Whats best

May actually be the path I fight so hard to avoid.

I think Tuesday may have read my blog and gotten angry at what I wrote for Ember. I hope shell still have taste for conversation.

I think I put too much weight in her for my life. After all, she deserves to be who she wants to and with who she chooses.

I thought of megans letters that she wrote for me that are more then likely waiting freezing in my mail box. I dont feel I should view them, itd be an insult to her for me to enjoy them.

Flickered out.

Ember said:
June 21st I can come back.
Our protagonist said:
I can't do that.

I've never felt so sure to be stern about not being there for someone until now. Smells like smoke.

Can you love a Drifter?

A person
Who has no voice but an echo?
Where there isn't even the
warmth they've left behind
but the plainly folded sheets of their bed.
Leading you to ask yourself
Was there even someone here?
A distant memory that was so short,
Drunken delusions could easily be more bearable.

A taste that's no longer bitter
Without even a film on tongue.
The presence of her has gone
Like a sickness fraying out
of a breath, right as it's
completely
gone.

It's as if,
I've immunity.
To her.
And a new sense.
Of appreciation.
For someone.
Who I know will work with me.

 Drift.

Im speaking to Ember

I feel.
That.

I fell out of love with her.

But how did she make me so enthralled before?

Hah. Turns out I was a fool. She was cheating on me, to an extent. As to what degree of an extent? Well, its easy to believe the fullest.

And be it im blinder than a man with no eyes but, I understand it. I understand her cheating on me.

Am I going to run in her arms? No. I dont even know if wed work out honestly. I have megan to thank for that. She opened my eyes so wide.

So what am I to do? Im going to find out if I can still love her. But its scary because how can I? Ive no money, nor anyway to contact her.

Ember may become a leaf in the wind.

I want to cry.

Drops

My tears become intangible.
Dripping like acid
Eating fading my soul.
To collect in my chest
Adding on dead weight.
to sink it to the bottom
Where my mind will dispense
Psychotropic chemicals
that tell me,
Repent. Repent.

Deserve is a funny word because no one knows what we deserve

The last words Megan spoke to me before I told her I need to be by myself.

Fuck.

I made that girl feel so fucking happy.

So fucking happy.
She couldn't connect to anyone else she was telling me.
She hadn't gotten close to anyone in 3 years until me.
And I fucked her over.

I have something in my head telling me i'm too soft.
Something telling me i'm too hard on myself.
She would have never had that happiness if it weren't for me.
The fact she lost it, doesn't matter, because she wouldn't have had it if it weren't for me.


None-the-less.

She DESERVES to be happy.

I feel like a fucking prick.

But it had to be done.
I had too many emotions hidden.

Megan, cheers to you. Best of luck.
Ill drink to you in hopes you find a better life.

A time alone

To find my place.

Tactile Sensation

We must ask ourselves,
What cultivates our soul.

What takes our attention away from pain.
From the lack of sensation.

 Lately I've been feeling artistic.

False Writing

Can be quite evident.

Interesting

Turn of Events Megan has brought to me.

We're close. Real close.
she just left for her duties to chicago.
Fuck.
I wonder what that will make of us.

I'm still coming out of this sickness.
It feels.
So
Surreal.

It's almost nice.
Having this different perception of the world.
It's almost like being High.

I literally.

Ashamed

Myself
To sleep.

Fuck my life.

Pain.

Constant.

Irredesant pain. Im not sure if thats a word.

Fucking.
Fuck.

Like.

Pain.

My back, feels as if its been dropped off the edge of a building, onto a pile of cinderblocks.

it aches and throbs through my arms and legs.

Fuck. Its accompanied by the gracious presence of blood in my snot

And the sore throat that reaps me of any pleasure to yawn or fully breath.

Fuck.
Fucking fuck.

Pain.

It prevents me from breathing deep 
Because my rib is broken and my shoulder is torn. So when I sneeze I grab tight to the loosely fitting pieces and hold tight.

Timing is everything.

If I push too hard on my chrest before the sneeze it hurts. If I push too late i kiel over nearly falling.

Megan. Youre holding me togher.

Nostalgia

I'm coming out of being sick.

I've been hocking shit stuck in my head for days.

Green, red.

Sinus infection.

I got drunk last night.

Funny how some care so much when others don't.

-------


My nose is dry.
The air was so crisp today.
I felt the sun on my skin and had flashbacks to when I was young.
How happy I was to just do anything.
There's this smell in my nose, that's just so awakening.

Feeling content is a strange thing
From going through everything
For however long it's been.

I met a girl named Megan.
She's in the Navy,
Rides motorcycles,
Fixes motorcycles,
Fixes cars,
Kick boxed,
Swam competitively,
Auditioned for Broadway,
Was on the row team for her college,
Is a photographer,
Has her own business,
Writes poetry,
Loves guns,
Runs 4 miles everyday.

She's 5'1 with brown hair and green eyes.

I believe she likes me.

The blood that leaves my head,
Is that what's making me feel calm?

It's interesting.

Truly.