forceful love making

It was a rainy night on February 14th that brought this idea..

This is not about sexual choking or bitch slapping so stop panting. The situations leading to this need for documentation started off as simple means of escaping the rolling shit cloud of past-present-future that follows my life daily.
December 29th 2014...
  Today I found the meanings of my life and answers to my questions about myself without comitting a crime or asking anyoe for help. is this truly the begining of my life i never knew existed or is my drug habbit  just getting old again?

Two years ago sitting in my apartment located on a hill in the country ,I decided that too much time had past since any meaningful relationships had entered my life. Being the rational creature that I am ,creating the interactions I needed seemed like the best way to slow the evaporation of time. My reasons for ending up in an apartment surrounded only by trees seems relevant to understanding the desperation that followed. I can honestly say that at one point being secluded from most life forms was ideal. When you wake up each day only to follow a drug like heroin or crack people just get in the way. I mostly traveled to the couch to read before the long stop at the floor listening to my favorite music. I no longer played my nylon stringed Alvarez classical guitar . The inebriation stole the desire to care about making anything new or keeping things I had once learned. The drugs I latched onto became the motivation for waking up every day and put off the question of  "Why don't I just fucking do it and say goodbye?" In my case it was 100 mg of Methadone each morning with 6mg of Xanax in the evening right before the Flexirill to relax my muscles so the amatriptiline would put me in a deep sleep coma. I made sure to balance this regiment with high grade pot smoked every hour with a chai tea latte and Zero regrets. This was my morning sunshine...my reason to smile. 

I know that seems a little unhealthy but I assure you it was a life altering diabetes inducing experiment of how to kill yourself without making a bloody mess....

 Moments of catastrophes later.....February 18th,

  like I said before ,I would be leading you down the road of  "to make a long story short" if I didn't explain the nature of my ridiculous behavior and how and when it started. I'm sure I have all the answers today concerning why I'm in and am such a mess. I'll talk about people-places-things causing the dust of guilt and moral ineptitude to follow me out of the woods where I once adequately but barely lived. I'm just sure of it. I like to dance around the fires of judgement and blame before realizing my errors of man and selfish ways. I will give the reason for my falling down and try to answer the question of how not to stumble. Without answers to the questions this writing would serve no greater purpose than to silence the rambling visions of a hyper-sensitive mind. I mean hell, It's been over two years and I'm a long deep thinker one that clears his schedule to maul over the finer points of  Ex's 1-6 and why some left me or study the basics of friendship anatomy. To avoid living ,I stay inside. I don't even walk the streets where I could put lessons learned to practice. Would it not be a crime if I had not the answers to how and why? I just sit ,I sit and I stare. I could be a fly on the wall, you would notice I'm there by the uneasy feeling I imagine one gets when bug eyes and buzzed wings stop trying to blend in. I am and regrettably have been consumed by the intrigue of my own self sabotaging snake in the grass thoughts that always until played out make perfect sense. I am the enemy. I have waged an endless war on my own sanity creating a volatile foe so cunning that giving up on myself seems like a viable option. This war is in my head with my life being the stage for endless battles that leave me searching for meaningful points to allow this internal chaos to continue. Victory hurts when lost introspective truths are the spoils.  You would think I've learned my lesson by now ,but I assure you I'm in debt to my mind from all the devastating suggestions given to me. Still with a smile and knowing's of better I plead for an endless assault of bad ideas. I am the rifle clenched by the steady hand of a Nazi war soldier barreling down on me. The ninja that pops out of nowhere running his blade smoothly up my torso is the personified trap of self doubt mutilation dissecting my individuality leaving me without the question of  "should I really do and or think that?" I have become my own worst enemy and my easiest target.

  Now for the answers to the almighty how and why questions of simplistic matters of fact ,I will need to divert my attention for a moment to introduce a character named Josh. Character is a term I would use to describe this man while he's sleeping alone in his bed not making a sound. The moment he wakes up and the brilliant sarcastic wit starts to roll off his tongue you soon realize that using the term character would be dumbing down the pure unprovoked natural talent he possessed to suck the air of any room into his lungs exhaling dentist grade fall-to-the-floor-make-you-beg-for-more laughing gas bellowing out infecting everyone in its path with humor that's never denied the overdue laughs of an uptight serious bunch of knuckle-headed shit faced heathens and stressed out drug addicts alike. You immediately knew that this docile man would never need to worry about losing a grammatical fight. Remember this ,distraction is key to silencing the motives of absurd intentions. Dull moments to Josh were like leprechauns and fairy god mothers are to us. They are fairy tales ,they do not exist. He was the funniest and best friend I could or have ever asked for. Did I mention that Josh is dead? Why does this story need to reminisce in the life of someone buried and rotting six feet underground? A story of guilt paired with shame and the chaos brought on by self doubting moments of rash behavior should not be taken too seriously. Thanks to Josh the story's we've told of near death and fully alive moments experiencing freedom were always followed with a genuine laugh that took off the edge of knowing you have made an awful mistake.

Before February 19th gets here sleep needs to...

  I needed a break from the memories that haunt me. I do have them. "Calamity of heart trumps determined mind" should run across my forehead an emboldened headline like the committed newspaper sold on the corner by a nice Amish man displays. My discernment of intellect is the hired puppet selling printed confidence to consumers from his entrusted platform. He is irrelevant to the facts. I read the message so I can believe the truth. The deceitful blood pumping heart inside is the false perforated coupon printed on faded paper. "I sell dreams to the broken man."  I know why you're still here ,and yes I have the answers. Believe me. I was waiting for the proper time ,but now the moment has passed.

 I'm at a loss for words sitting on my ass laughing at the complacency within.

 Before I can talk about the pitiful reasons, I must go back to the beginning of a place in the time of love's hay day. In the third grade my youth defiled heart was full of good intentions and lost puppy dog issues of abandonment. "Her name is Anna" was whispered to me by a church hall instigator with an eye for little boys waiting for his life to walk through the stained glass double doors. I'm sure she was beautiful with a name like Anna but I didn't notice ,I could only see her in the corner and looking at me. It was a strange feeling and not the normal one's strange boys feel. I should be nervous as beads started to form on the brow of my crimson red pallet, but the normal strange mood never came. Being in that moment standing in a stare I didn't notice the smell of bare feet from church ladies dancing or the looks of judgement from an annoyed asinine father. I was in a room crowded with people feeling isolated before realizing in that moment, I was not alone. We were caught together in her gaze where nothing could touch us and silence being the only movement turned down the volume of everything in my complete existence . I could never express in words how my first reason for a life in love brought feelings of utter despair. I was stuck in the warmth of her beautiful eyes standing on the edge of pessimism and fantasy. I looked into the pit and became captivated by the firestorm created from ideas of knowing what I want and thinking I'll never be good enough colliding. Our future together lay smoldering in ashes below me.
  Life as I knew I wanted it began on a Sunday when I was eight. I was enamored by an ocean of beginners love that only a catholic Latino school girl could wash over this pale quiet boy drifting along the edge of a christian school classroom. We met last week in church where the basis for everything wrong in my life was given birth to. My soft and misguided heart became stagnant in grade school crush naivety. I was no match for the all devouring contest's her poppy shaped brown eye's begged me to play. I was always first in line and last to get off the dizzy spell inducing roller coaster ride of boy versus girl in  "Let's see who's feelings get trampled on first"  She was suspective beauty with bedroom violent brown hair resting on shoulders of jealousy kissing golden hued skin. Captor of a prisms smile, her lips glistened visions of laying my head on the lap of Gods perfection.  Translation- (She was a pretty Latino girl with bed head.)  Her deep piercing stare always quietly lured me into herself with the most anticipated invitations a suffocated church hallway could ever facilitate. Subtlety became her preferred method of delivery for love twisted secret messages endlessly flowing from every angle an eight year old girl could possibly go over. They were for me and only me to decipher. Fixated on a hopeless meaning, I define "Powerless."

  February 22nd woke up screaming at me  "You have not changed"

  What a pathetic lie to sell. I feel worthless from being rotten. Splintered tongue spewed words wretched as the spoiled fruit sold by the devil, everything I told you about my third grade romance with Anna was a lie ripe in face saving false recollections written by the tired hand of a withering human. I am a liar and a believer. I ate my own apple of bullshit with brilliant anticipation of believing this boy wasn't a pissed stained excuse of a person. I wanted to believe a storybook romance had caused me to forfeit a year of typical ballpark memories to stare at girl I would barely know rather than a hopeless yearning. That third grade desperate to feel anything other than whats inside boy was trying to escape the internal disappointments a low self esteem and lack of attention can cause to fester within. Truth hurts when it's delivered in the stinging lite of a clear morning. Anna was the Sunday church for whom  I attended. I wanted her to save me. For one hour a week this love I created  helped to forgive my shortcomings and saved me from a sadness I was drowning in daily. I fell in love with a Mexican angel. Unaware of self loathing habits mounting, my future of saying "yes, anything for love" and feeling the greatest agony's of all I'm living was forming on the basis of an elementary dream living on the air of schoolyard trust. My demons arose from the fire that day to steal any lasting moments of being happy I would ever feel. My wounds today are from his past. An Angel with golden wings vanished from me. She didn't leave the peace her lie provided. Taking away the salvation her love delivered my life, she left on a Sunday in a place where it all started. I just stood there regretting the emotion I showed while losing myself in a childish game of sweet nothing eye contact. I had been duped. A true angel wouldn't suddenly leave. Anna never came back. Her existence in my world would no longer be. She was the first of many that love sent to kill me.
 The feeling that Anna helped me create was not what she intended. It was the greatest feeling of my life followed by the worst I could imagine . I'm sure she didn't know how I felt since I didn't tell her and still haven't been able to find her after many shame filled nights of internet stalking. When her parents divorced and stepfather killed himself Anna just disappeared. The hole created from a fantasy love now missing turned on a vacuum in my life sucking up any willing participant in the fulfillment of past life regression. The time I spent with Anna was short but dragged over a longer period and in between our visits I began fantasizing about having her in ways most kids don't care about. I had no limit to my dreams and had a knack for ignoring any and all signs that it wasn't going to happen or knowing the thought could hurt me and ignoring my role in the process of killing the possibility of something I've always wanted. I escaped my world with pleasure brought on by self created delusions I often believed and wishfully thinking I wanted them to happen...someday. I have before considered Anna and my experience with her to be irrelevant to my current surroundings but I haven't began to tell the Story of The girl I walked away from but never left named Candie and how I held onto an apology I thought I owed her for years. My third grade crush may have stopped before ever moving and the girl involved partly forgettable but what it did I fear is permanent. I'm the hedonistic masochist incapable of determining human intent unless I lay on the train tracks and close my eyes. Knowledge is worthless after the fatal crash.

February 23rd came without warning...
I don't know how to just let things happen. I can't go with the flow. When I meet someone new i see every possible scenario from our marriage to death in a single flash. Like an obsesion, I can't leave it alone. From the corner of her room a tired Laptop computer was playing a low based melody.  
Today I'm trying not to freak out over the thought of what might happen if I let my feelings develope on their own pace. My current situation is not making this easy. Waking up next to a beautiful twenty something girl should be anything but a terrible feeling. I was happy and laying next to my latest ex-girlfriend. I don't consider the hispanic girl I ran from last week after playing house with for 2 months a GF or an ex. She was just my reaction to not getting what I want when I feel I should have it from my latest ex. She filled the void created from feelings not running concurent in my last relationship. She was emotionaly unstable and threw around the words I love you like a handful of 10 cent pellets at a petting zoo. I took comfort in how cheaply she sprinkled those three words on me.I created an emotional void within from things not happening when I thought they should that was being quickfilled with things I wanted to but didnt here from     My heart sunk deep into a familiar depression today. Trying to steel my desire to give love another chance, fear was surrounding me with memories of the past. I couldnt shake the hurt from loves three words dying and no longer hearing or saying them. I felt alone laying next to next to something I wanted to believe I could have. I need to let the past go or I will never have it again.         we realize this is the end.  were alive in the room causing fear to jepordize taking a chance.       symphony impossible to shake. My eyes bleed from truths blinding light. I need to step back and gain some clarity before stating the answer's I've promised. I can feel you hating me. Don't worry, I will not lie again.
  The real happenings of my third grade life could fit into one day and will live in my soul forever. love came in many forms of good and evil. I am my creator for without my delusional false sense of how much they loved me, angels wouldn't fly and demons would see me as a waste of time.

It's February 24th  Daytime, Monday,..anything else?

  You will have to wait like a patient little cluck to board the next tram leaving latent mis-informed points. If you think I have the energy to explain the facts I generously laid, then buckle up for a ride around the bushes so often beat. You have come to the tree of missing parts. Bare with me in the case of painful memory's from a bitter mind extracted.

Sitting on the precipice of February 24th, actually its already 2am...
(below is a completely unedited piece of shit I'm for the first in my life proud of)

I'm pissed off at a girl. My choice of female reference term should not go unnoticed as it was intended. I am thirty six and the thought of dating a woman my age overpowers me with fear. I say "girl" to comfort my  I'm trying but failing to tell you my pathetic story of a naive boy scraping along concurrent paths of love and trouble but the 23rd of my current year woke me up next to that twenty something girl whose name you will definitely learn. I like the bed I woke up currently slumped in. The comfort it offers with twisted blankets and empty boxes surrounding a pile of cigarette butts and naked flesh was exciting and disgusting. Yes you are the spinning genius your mom gleefully bragged about able to catch the drift I'm fanning of myself being stuck in love with this twenty something girl. I was at her newly acquired home in a web of spun notions of love and the possibility that I wasn't the one who completely fucked up the reality based relationship of two minds in tandem with passionate bodies following our personalities to the places that two opposites could attract. The sex we had was amazing. Previously we were caught in a serious adult like 3 month long term relationship. It had all the usual suspect of maturity like false pregnancy scares a few smacks here and there and the words "I love you" starting to form on the edge of lips chapped from constantly having something to say. She was not the first to capture my heart but as of new loves yeah this girl in her twenties was the latest of loves angels descending to convince me they weren't from the demons I spoke to you about. I haven't given her the proper test's to see if her wings will keep me afloat but damn...I mean, she really knows how to play the game of giving to me the desired things of a man who needs to be stroked. I am and always will be an emotional mess of paranoid loving delusions and lost romantic love questions I ask too much. I am the king of TMI. I love to tell a perspective love interest about things making this heart tick. Let's see I have insecurity slightly higher than my lack of trust which sits in the shadow of my poor self image from the past of a large group of girls shitting on me. I think it's sweet to offer these parts making me look endearing and ready to tackle an adult level LTR. They are gifts from my indebted for loving me personality. My friends and doctors think this quality is great since humor is golden and boredom runs rampant. I enjoy affection and deal in the art of attention like the best first night clean laundry having some trust still remaining new to the streets beautiful whore. My friends are assholes and possibly agree with my therapist, I assume that because "Dude you are fucking stupid for falling over this girl you've known for 2 months" roles off there tongues as if they all sit behind a two way mirror taking notes as my good ole mad scientist script doctor pumps and shrinks my head for the intimate details of ridiculous sappy bullshit. I am the long awaited Bruce Springsteen concert of the mission hills psychiatric center that all the boy and girl doctors wait every month to attend making the job of fucking with people have a little excitement. Iv'e been told that controlling and distorting peoples life and their views within can get old you know like building a roof or cleaning an office does. I just doing a public service of gratitude for these genius assholes that saved my life. I owe my fleeting current sanity to these guys . They are amazing at being nothing. I just went on a rant oh hell, are you still there? Did you lose track of time from exhaustion of your interesting life allowing time to read about a pathetically challenged drug addict being stifled by loves misguided intentions. No ...ok lets get back to the emotional crap I started to lay out. I will give you the same head start to run up into my abusively thwarted heart like letting you in on my attribute of character, I started to go over like insecure dreams of everyone cheating on me and issues of never being good enough for a pretty girl. This make girls realize they have a real shot at love standing with bad posture in front of them. The books ive read and professional have said this beautiful offering of self emotion blood spatter is live top grade ammo that any beginner could easily use to move up the chain of past boy/girl friends shitting on them. These bullets of mine have been known to take out a full grown dumb ass at long term range. I have to admit i know the temptation it must be to resist from lobbing a dirty touch your soul bullet into my face killing my discernment of reading their intentions. Vulnerability is key to knowing what the ones we love want from us and are willing to take. I hate therefore I am stagnant in my role of helping ,myself to resolve the disasters of love based one way shooting galleries overstocking the shelves with emotional baggage so often have. The games we play have jaded me for ever trusting the love I read about. What's wrong with this world that people would rather hurt to receive a minuscule amount of ego massaging pleasure and gifts of enslaved lovers labor instead of tearing down their walls of fearful mistrust and general dick and bitchery so they could basque in the heat penetrating light that exalts from love being mutually recognized. We have become selfish cold potato sacks of low grade dusty parking lot worthless rocks. I am the contractor with a cement truck that sees the rocks in the road the pulls up his pants over plumbers crack to look professional when stating "God damn I don't give a fuck about rocks"

If tonight I lay in the bed I made I pray in the morning I'll rise from the death I sustain. The situation is dyer.

IN A MOTEL I HAPPEN TO BE WRITING.  

Its march 8th my birthday, I'm 37 was 36. It makes a good story, I know.

"Fuck, 8:32 am Shawn" ,was ringing in my head. Carrie, my beautifully distorted new friend and  fellow street traveler keeps telling me there's money to make and drugs to take .. Alright everything's ok its not that bad, I tell her. The walls stopped melting and your hawk face is gone...I'm cool now, lets smoke a bowl......she started TO ARGUE SOME SHIT ABOUT MONEY AND DRUGS AND WHY Those people DID this but damn you should of done that and boo hoo my father doesnt want to fuck me anymore. YOU KNOW WHO REALLY CARES ABOUT OUR RIDICULOUS ARGUMENTS. we all have issues, its just that Carrie's issues are incredible. We are not alike, however we have a few things in COMMON, We hAVE A POOR SELF IMAGE and HATE Ourselves today.  I'M PRETTY SURE WE HATE EACH OTHER AT THIS POINT TOO. I SAY PRETTY SURE CUZ IM NEVER CLEAR.....Sometimes LOVE Feels LIKE HATE TO ME. YOU SEE WERE I'd GET CONFUSED right?....NONE OF That is helping me get out of this stank shit of a hotel room I call home.

   Eight hours ago, I'M TRIPPING ACID WHICH I HAVEN'T DONE FOR 12 YEARS. The environment IN MY APARTMENT, I MEAN HOTEL is slowly melting into the prequel for my horror show. There's  a gaping CRACK UNDER THE DOOR WHERE I KEEP HEARING the voices and footsteps of nobody, and Carrie's hawk face is here again. The direction of the night is out of my hands. As I find comfort sitting in my lazy boy chair giving in to the kaleidoscope of visions consuming me, I realize I have been on this road before. I am thrilled and unsure. Should I be scared of serenity in the confines of drug induced euphoria? Is letting go the key to bypassing a bad experience? For now I will sit and I will stare as my fleeting discernment makes tonight's final stand. I think it's all in my head is where common sense ended.

  "God damn  it Carrie, I told you not to let anyone in here for at least 8 hours" Are we getting robbed by these kids we've let into our home and why did he just say that are questions I didn't want to ask. I decided to wait and see since rationalizing with a hawk faced hustler dressed in pink wasn't going anywhere. Besides, Carrie was having fun playing dress up and feeling like a girl which she desperately needed. Looking back, not occupying my mind with possible conspiracies of the four meth fueled teen age boys sitting next to me could be a bad thing. I no longer felt control over my own thoughts. I was fully peaking with a railroad of questionable ideas surrounding me. Fearful of mistakes Iv'e made in this weekly hotel of degradation and regret following me to the promise land I BECAME PARALYZED in a coma of blinding self analysis. I'm stuck in this room with everything I own, truth, and 3 months of bad decisions. This is the worst trip Iv'e been on since I was 16.

 HOW WE GOT HERE eight hours later Sitting WITH KNIFES POINTED AT EACH OTHER IS A MYSTERY even TO ME..... i THINK JOSH knows how, IN FACT I BET HE PLANTED THE  steak KNIFE Carrie's clenching....HE IS CLEVER LIKE THAT...JOSH WAS OUR best FRIEND and the final commonality Carrie and I will ever share.

 The morning is here and the walls have stopped melting. "OH There's MY PHONE under the pillow" Carrie Says to me. As THE T Mobile REPRESENTATIVE LISTENING started to ask, LAUGHTER Engulfed the room, I GUESS THE TWO HOURS OF a BEAUTIFUL PERFORMANCE to get a phone and  everything she could WAS IN VAIN. This show was NOT a Waste. i  LEARNED ALLOT , SHE BULLSHITS WELL AND JOSH IS WATCHING, LAUGHING, and grinning, MAYBE HEAVEN DOESN'T SUCK AS BAD AS MY PARENTS RELIGION BROUGHT ME UP TO BELIEVE.


Somewhere between March 8th and 22nd I decided to take a break.

I'm back in what feels like a bitter sweet heaven laying next to a dream. Writing about happenings of life in last week with Carrie instead of why I'm lying here again feels like hot coffee in summertime. I'm running from the drugs and my bad decisions of last year while trying to escape my emotions. I'm lost in a forest of sex and love hiding in the trees of inebriation.

In the middle of my recent 3 month's of fuck up's and bullshit phase, the one in her 20's who i'll name later is somehow still here. I think i'm succeeding at not letting fantasy convince myself of an unlikely future between us. I like to think that anyway but I know sabotaging my own mind comes as second nature. Face it, one of my fantasy's isn't bullshit, it's going to happen is the password for losing my cool.
I will tell you her name when I know what to call her. Is it friend or something else? It's a good thing I have my recent mistakes to think about or this up in the air relationship of sorts may bring about some anxiety.
I should be clear about this, my anxiety is a rocket in space looking for a place to refuel. For the time being I think I'm dealing with these matters much better than before...I stayed up till 5 am three days straight to write this ridiculous poem about her that never rhymes.

Some conversations are better to just write down..

You say I make you feel beautiful, I forgot to ask why...
Maybe It's noticing the hesitation your fingers make when stroking the left side of your hair as you quietly look to the ground. It's Shy, it's a little nervous, it looks like the blush of a schoolgirl when asked to her first dance. Do you know how sexy that is? I bet you do. The way your glasses settle over your right eye always a little crooked is charming and sweet. Never trying to fix them knowing they're a little off is comfort in the skin you wear. That has to be the sexiest thing about you. Wait...caught up in a moment, I forgot about the way you touch your hair.

You're sure of yourself and you know it...
When something's up for debate, you always find the answer...usually on the tip of your tongue. You gracefully and modestly (maybe not modestly!) share the solution with no word in error or the slightest doubt. If a pen were there to do for your mouth no commas or periods would it be without. I've read your writing's that make English teachers proud. You are a smart girl but not only from the courses you've mastered. You are wise from blazing through life facing fear without shutting your eye's. Intelligence will be forever if common sense is always sought after. You are full of it...common sense that is. A sexy girl with ability and charm is beauty beyond the text book definition.

Your reaction to the slightest touch is everything...
I'm always thinking about your olive kissed skin. How it glides over your shoulders down the slope of your waist to soar the curve of your hip's is perfectly infuriating. You broke the hourglass of a stereotyped figure. Flipping keys around your fingers while pivoting to stop with something important to say, you looked in my direction fixed in a perplexed stare. Trapped by your allure,  I could barely move (and forgot what you said). It's hard to keep up with the many things that make you so beautiful. Whether it's new attributes of character or a sexy flip of the hair, I could spend a lifetime discovering the methods of your endless appeal. Obviously you've mastered the science of how chemicals attract.

You make quirks feel perfect and flawless seem real...
When your words stumble the few times they do it's extremely cute and endearing. Is it odd to find that attractive? Hey, did I use the word endearing right? Tripping on a couple words isn't something you do often, but those once in a while's help me know you're not fiction but imperfect without fault. There is one more. I swear when you role over and start to snore I think awe that's cute (like a bear dreaming!)...maybe not sexy, but snoring as cute is absolutely new. Finding the things humans say "I don't like that" about as lovely is truly unexpected. I've only heard about that happening.

You wear it well, I'm sure sexy is proud...
The look you give as your finger motions "come here my body is waiting." isn't just sexy, it breathes life into old men! Sounds you make when I lay next to you softly tickling the curve's of your body put me at ease and my anxiety to rest. Your shoulders rise as if to join me tucking those little hairs behind your ear softly around the base of your neck...I don't blame them. Should I mention the way I feel when you let me know you're almost there and how much you love it inside? It goes without question, in that moment I feel more than alive.

 I'd like to always make you feel this way...
The high standard's you live by, always striving for better, and keeping it real allows your beauty to continue flourishing. Your sexy will never go stale or sit by the wayside and will always compliment the admirable person inside. Your stand up personality and how you flow naturally is beyond sex appeal. You define beautiful where the text book fails. It's not me that makes you feel this way. I just happen to be standing here unable to look away. I can't help but take notice. It's simple Brooke, You feel beautiful because You woke up today... Well you definitely should. Hey look, I spelled it correctly! 

(-Beautiful- by S.W.E.) 

. 
Don't worry, I'm keeping my cool.

It's March 23rd and I don't like who I am today but mostly I don't like how I'm reacting...
I guess I've been waiting for the bad news I received today. Her name is Brooke and I know what she is to me now. We fuck, that's it. I would say friend but I'm too pissed off right now to use that sort of language. besides, do we fuck our friends? I assure you sex  is no benefit to a friendship. The truth is I'm jobless and out of a home. My dog was taken by my Father whom I owe money to which makes what Brooke told me this morning that much harder. I shouldn't be acting this way, pissed that is, but I cant afford to be depressed right now. Anger is winning at the moment but the looming sadness that I know is coming sits in the room with me.

I became comfortable in my thoughts of being with Brooke. I said Fuck it and let go of my fear of being rejected for about 2 weeks. I would have been fine if I  kept my guard up. This is why I hate emotions like Love. It's never the same two way street, someone always has less. It's a game I was never good at playing. I'm amazed at the amount of anger inside me right now. I was rejected today and my feelings are not doing what I'd like them to. I am reminded quickly by the intervals of clenching fist's and swollen eyes and what being Bi-polar is all about. Its complete Insanity, at times seeming creative and smart this emotional disease is crafty and goes unnoticed for a while. I was living in a fantasy again.  My therapist would call this a delusion. In a matter of days I went from knowing Brooke wasn't going to be with me to going through our entire life in the future together like a movie script in my head. The type of movie someone always walks out of. This was my doing and I sat back and watched it coming making sure to do the things that will make it as bad as it gets for my already tattered feelings. I am my own worst enemy AND RIGHT NOW I'M SCARED, ROLLED UP IN A BALL AND SOBBING LIKE A CHILD. I FEEL PATHETIC. I CANT EVEN FEEL SORRY FOR MYSELF. I DID THIS. i CANT TELL IF I'M JUST HURT FROM  BROOKE TELLING ME SHE MISSED HER EX WHO i KNOW SHE ISN'T IN LOVE WITH AND THAT A CHANCE TO GET BACK INTO A STALE RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM IS WORTH NOT BEING WITH ME, OR HAVE THE DRUGS BEEN ABSENT LONG ENOUGH THAT I'M CAPABLE OF THINKING ABOUT ALL THE MISERY IN MY LIFE, AND NOT JUST BROOKE? I WANT TO SAY YES BUT DON'T WANT IT TO BE.
 I should be thinking about where I'm going and what  job I'll be doing but I don't have those answers. Right now I only have the answers to why I hate love, relationships, and woman. I focus on the hate inside me during times of misogynistic catharsim to keep from crying. What type of man cries over feeling rejected or losing a chance at being loved? I know i'm the only man who does this. If I could kill all my feeling right now I'd be emotionally rich. This seems like a good time to bring up my other dilemma. I CAN kill my feelings. I get high but not like in the movies. I take any drug that kills my feelings. My drug of choice is simply not being me. I don't care what it is as long as it takes me out of myself. I will do it, and I will succeed at escaping my emotional torture that I HAVE inflicted. I always come back out of it is the problem. Drugs wear off and money runs out. My feelings of worthlessness and being alone have never really left. They are always waiting for me to drop my guard. Why do I attack myself. Haven't I been through enough? I've lost everything I've owned countless times building it back up to do it again. I tell myself it's my desire to be in love that kills me but I'm sure it's much deeper than that.
i HAVE EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE TO BE UPSET ABOUT RIGHT NOW FROM BEING 37 AND DEPENDING ON TWO YOUNG GIRLS IN A ONE MONTH PERIOD TO WALKING AWAY FROM ALL i HAD WHICH WASN'T MUCH BUT NOW SEEMS LIKE EVERYTHING. i DECIDED THREE MONTHS AGO TO HANDLE THESE SITUATIONS AS DEVASTATINGLY BACKWARDS AS THE MOUNTAIN OF METH i DEVOURED EVERYDAY WOULD LET ME. i SHOULD BE THINKING ABOUT GETTING ON MY FEET AND JOINING THE HUMAN RACE BUT FOR 6 MONTHS I'VE CONCENTRATED ON NOT OBTAINING WHAT I WANT FROM BROOKE. i WANTED, NO I NEEDED HER TO LOVE ME. i NEEDED TO FEEL SOMETHING THAT TOOK ME AWAY TO A PLACE I COULD RELAX, FEEL HAPPY, AND BE IN LOVE in. i'M NOT TALKING ABOUT HER HOUSE WHERE I'VE STAYED FOR A MONTH, BUT WITH HER. i WANTED TO BE IN HER, TO LIVE INSIDE HER HEART SHAPED BOX AND I DON'T MEAN HER VAGINA. SHE IS WHAT I WANT AND SOMETHING I CAN NEVER HAVE. i KNOW YOU'RE THINKING THAT I'M JUST COMPENSATING FOR DEPRESSION AND TO A DEGREE I AM BUT ISN'T THAT THE GOAL OF LOVE ON THIS EARTH? I DON'T FEEL GUILTY FOR WANTING BROOKE TO MAKE ME HAPPY. isn't THAT WHAT LOVE IS SUPPOSE TO BE? I KNOW I COULD LOVE HER TILL THE END OF DAYS AND GIVE HER THE THINGS SHE DESERVES.
  ALL THE BOOKS SAY I HAVE TO LOVE MYSELF FIRST, WELL BELIEVE ME I'VE TRIED.  successful AT TIMES LOVING MYSELF ALWAYS REACHES A LIMIT, A STOPPING POINT WHERE MY HAPPINESS GOES NO FURTHER. Many times I've Reached the PLACE WHERE I HAVE EVERYTHING IN LIFE THE SELF HELP GURU'S PREACH ABOUT. I'M VERY GOOD AT ACHIEVING THE WELL BEING AND MATERIAL ITEMS WE THINK ARE IMPORTANT. A monster to myself, I'm terrible at keeping them.  WHEN MY CLIMB FOR HAPPINESS COMES TO A STOP ITS ALWAYS THE SAME THING IN THE DISTANCE THAT I'VE NEVER ACHIEVED, BUT FOR THE ONE EXCEPTION OF YOUNG LOVE WITH A GIRL NAMED SHERA. Wanting TO LOVE and be loved HAS ALWAYS BEEN THERE IN THE DISTANCE. AT FIRST ITS LIKE I CAN REACH OUT AND GRAB the person standing there BUT THEY ALWAYS MOVE BACK, AWAY FROM ME. AM i GOING ABOUT IT WRONG? SHOULD i JUST GO WITH THE FLOW. i KNOW THE Answer's TO THOSE TWO QUESTIONS, BUT THIS IS MY FLOW. I'M 37 AND I'VE BEEN FLOATING ON THE PATH OF "LOVE MEANS EVERYTHING" FOR 32 YEARS.
   i THINK YOU HAVE AN IDEA OF HOW I PLAY WITH MY MIND AND EMOTIONS LIKE A BOARD GAME YOU HATE PLAYING. I'M A SORE LOSER. i GET PISSED AND FLIP THE BOARD SPILLING THE GAME PIECES EVERY TIME I FEEL I'M NOT WINNING, it's CHILDISH I KNOW. BEING AWARE OF THESE THINGS ABOUT MYSELF DOESN'T HELP CORRECT THEM AS IT SHOULD. knowing THIS DOESN'T HELP WHAT HAPPENED WITH BROOKE THIS MORNING. HAVING THIS KNOWLEDGE JUST MAKES ME FEEL LIKE COMPLETE AND UTTER SHIT. i FEEL LIKE I LOST SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT TODAY.  YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO LEAVE IS WHAT SHE SAID. i FEEL GUILTY FOR HAVING SEX WITH YOU IS WHAT SHE SAID. SHE SAID "i MISS HIM MORE AS TIME GOES ON". MY MIND PROCESSES THINGS IN A BAD WAY. i LISTENED TO WHAT BROOKE SAID BUT ALL'S i HEARD WAS YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH, YOUR PERSONALITY IS CRAP AND YOU'RE NOT A GOOD ENOUGH  PERSON WORTHY OF A CHANCE AT LOVING ME. YOU FALL SHORT WHERE I NEED A MAN TO SUCCEED. You get the point, I heard every negative thing that makes me want to  crawl under a rock and fucking leave this place that my scrambled egg platter brain could come up with. I'm being sabotaged and I am to blame. I wish i could only hear what she said.

The brakes on my van are shot and there's snow on the ground. I want to leave right now. I want to be gone before Brooke gets home. This would make a statement but i'm not sure which one. I don't care or I care to much are blurring the lines in front of me. I know it would feel easier to go back living in a hotel room working for dope to mask the pain, but a small spark from a former self is telling me to not panic. There might be something to gain from staying till the money i'm waiting on arrives. Is a friendship worth feeling inadequate for a few days or the pain that it brings? I'm going with a flow and trying to hang on. I'm not sure if it will take me to a better place or drop me back into a soul swallowing depression. It's 4:42 in the afternoon and I've felt strong for 20 minutes, I'll take it.
I do have options, although bleak they're better than nothing. It's 4:49 and I'm curious about my feeling at 6. I think I'll get drunk and clean the walls with an SOS pad. I'm sure alcohol and bleach are better than amphetamines. First I have to get out of bed and go thank Brooke's dad for hooking up illegal cable. Thanks you's come easy for me when they're not part of a fiction I created that needs to be destroyed. I really like her family, well this half anyway. Part of my sickness is not being able to block the slideshow of me becoming a part of that family that repeatedly runs through my head.
  Ziggy keeps giving me a sad look. I think he misses Brooke already. He knows what i'll be missing out on. "You gotta take a piss Ziggy?" His stub is waging a big hell yes! God damn Brooke where'd you put that leash!

Some decisions are easy and trying to love Brooke was an easy one but actually loving her was impossible because my love for her never existed.


It's March 31st and my doctor was laughing as usual...

I saw my therapist today. Three months went by since I spilled my guts to him. Everything has changed. I was different when we last spoke, I had an apartment, lots of things, and a chip on my shoulder. I don't have any of that now and I think i'm happier. I must be happier, I'm still alive. I keep bouncing back between love affairs with the Mexican and the 20 something girl. I know which affair I want now, well at least for today. The doctor has nothing on my beautiful mexican/cuban girlfriend named Soolie. She is the wisest female I know. 6 months ago I told Ryan and Brooke that Soolie was crazy, trashy, and a mean bitch without an education. About 3 weeks after this offering of private parts I ate my words like a kid eats pizza...till the pain from too much is unbearable. "Karma is a bitch Shawn" Soolie said in a voice that I didnt pay much attentiuon to. Today I hang off every noise that comes from that voice. Karma had a celebration and threw a party for all the pals when it showed me Soolie was not to be ignored. I have suffered from the blows That dealt to me losing everything in the epic 3 month process that karma flamboyiantly exacted on me. Karma almost killed me and Karma saved me. Soolies love is now evident to me like the sun 2pm when leaving the movie theater.