The end.

It’s time that I stop waiting.  It’s time that I stop trying to get my point across to someone that isn’t there anymore.  I have to stop needing this thing that I’ve needed more than anything I’ve ever needed.

It’s time to be someone who I’m not.  Who I was is as good as a carcass, that I’ve been dragging along with me for too long now.  I need to accept this life I’ll live without beauty.  So that maybe I’ll find beauty else where in the future.  

Wish me luck and pray for me, please.  I’m about to do something that I can’t do.  I’m about to die to save my life.  I’m saying goodbye to my memories, even though they’re all I have.  And goodbye to the faces I see in my mind every day.  

Goodbye and I’m sorry that I couldn’t hold on to you.  It’s my turn to disappear. 

Decided to watch the second Hobbit movie.  And I ended up only seeing chunks of it at a time. 

I kept doing other things like getting food, and getting upset, and resorting to my blog to distract me, so I’ll have to watch it again to catch up on the scenes in between.  But it was a good movie.  It had an interesting song at the end.

My largest lies.

Between every hateful notion that passes my mind, is a loving and caring, and gentle one.  I love, and I miss, and I long for peace and love to come back.  I see it just as much as I see the things I despise. 

The only difference is, I have no choice but to keep those things to myself. I can’t write about my love, or about beauty, or about the goodness I’ve felt from her.  I can’t write about my hopes, and my visions of peace.  I just can’t say how much I just want her to remember everything about us.  I can’t just say that I need her to remember me in the day and think of me while I think of her.  I feel like I have to show her what I’ve become in her absence instead.  Because my unrequited love feels more pathetic than my hate.  And I wasn’t always like this.  I just want to show the darkness that I have now, that I didn’t before so she can see that what we had was better than what my life is now.

My sweet and intimate love is more private than the bad things.  I wish that I could explain all of them though.  I wish that I could write about my love in private to a person I knew that cared.

Instead I feel I have no choice but to broadcast my ugliness.  And my distraught areas.  I want my pain to explain as much love as it does hate.  I’ve wanted it to explain what the absence of my love does to me.  What the absence of my goodness does to me.

I want to fight, and push, and scream, so that it will be obvious that I have nothing else.  I have no other fights.  I have, and want nothing else to love and to hate. 

And I understand what mutilation means.

I always told them I didn’t understand.  I didn’t. 

I might still not understand their own reasons, because they’ve never been where I am, and I wasn’t in the place they were, but I have my own personal inclinations. 

I want a different kind of pain.  I don’t want this kind anymore.  I’m warn out, and still consuming it at it’s full pace.  I’m exhausted, and it won’t lessen in any way.  My mind has broken down just like my muscles would if I kept running for miles, but I’m being forced to sprint.  I can’t handle it, and I can’t take myself out of this world entirely yet.  I know it’s not my time. 

But I want to feel something different, and I want evidence of it.  I want to see my body break the same way that my mind does.  I want it to be out of my control, leaking out.  Unable to heal, or feel well. 

I want my pain to be different, and not like this.  It’s been too long that my mind has been in pain.  I need to direct it.  I need control.

When will it rise to the surface in your mind?

How long will wait, in vain?  And for convenience? To see what love could have been spent on more wisely . 

 Love does not destroy to gain.

Love is kind, and good, and doesn’t win, or compare.  It doesn’t feed off of the flattery of the being chosen.

Love is not what happened, and it’s not what is happening now.  When will it be understood by your own feelings and by your own retrospective evolution?  When will the florescence of your private room be revealed to be a distasteful thing, that hadn’t been chosen to last?  All it takes sometimes is a pause.  Sometimes all it takes is a scream, or a glance into the wrong angle.

When will comfort push it’s distaste past your pleasures, showing you what could have been better than this?  Forcing you to contrast the fantasy of freedom with the chain of the unchangeable past? With a sick feeling in your stomach you’ll hold your tongue while you see things you truly don’t want.


Just hurry.  Let the reality of this hollowed beauty sink in. If you want forgiveness, hurry to understand.

Because distaste grows.  Anger grows until it’s the standard of each day and the year after that.  I can only get worse, because I’m waiting for someone I do love.  And I’m grinding me teeth and smashing the things around me because I have nothing else to do, but wait.  

Don’t  fool yourself  at the expense of other’s suffering . 

I get it now.

If I’m tired enough, I can sleep before everyone else goes to bed.  That’s why I always want to fall asleep around people.  Once everyone goes to sleep and the thoughts behind my thoughts realize I’m alone, it doesn’t matter how tired I get.

I can’t sleep.  I can’t lie down alone.