I don't know why, but I felt like unloading some thoughts; it covers a good scope of things, because - if I don't free my mind from time to time, my thoughts rot and become bitter, and I hate being bitter, even though I'm prone to it.

Once upon a time, in what feels like another life entirely...I fell for a girl that I still can't get out of my head, because back then - she probably took pity on me, and helped me through some hard things.

I realized entirely too late how I truly felt about her, and by then it was too late. Instead I returned to someone who I knew hurt me many times, thinking that this was probably for the best...and she disappeared afterall.

Obviously I was hurt again down the road and things fell apart, but all along, I always kept in touch with this girl when she resurfaced. I still felt deeply for her, and for a while, I think she felt deeply for me as well -- but was afraid to say so, knowing I might never get to be with her how things were. Well, who knows, afterall - that's a world of "What-ifs" and I live in a world of "What was"

But...this girl has slowly faded from my life, but, somehow, this has left behind a gaping hole. As long as I know she's alive, somehow, I'm able to at least trudge on, I've said many times to her that I hope to see her in the next life. Maybe somehow, I won't be so stupid then, maybe the situation would be better, and maybe something inevitably comes from knowing one another.

In this life, it is spoiled though, by no other than myself. The things I said and did as a function of jealousy, of envy, of lust, and all in earnest for a rather ill-placed love, and desire to be with her......has simply sit me down, and continue along in a life that has no space or desire for myself.


I've come to terms with that, to some degree, it's been hard, not that it matters really -- life is hard. I've dealth with a lot of things in life, and somehow survived afterall. But it seems like, this is the reason I can't sort myself out on a great many things. I can't identify love, or even friendship. The things that happened with this girl made me question how I see love and friendship at even a most basic level, leaving me feeling foolish and ashamed. All the things I thought were love, I was forced to invert as friendship, all the things, what few things, I could see as friendship, were inverted in other ways...and the confusion grew and grew.

I have lost to a great and fantastic manipulation of the mind, not by this one girl, but by realizing how very weak minded I am. I do not know what anyone wants, and I can barely quantify what I want from this world.

Somehow, that made me strong, though my mind is weak. I don't think this girl had that strength, while I've somehow become resolute that even being alone until the day I die is okay. There was no binding commons in life stating you had to find a loved one to be happy. Frankly I don't know what 'happy' would be for me, since I spend a lot of time awfully miserable for no reason.

And in finding others I felt I might love...at first I was fine...but then the questions came back, and I got confused again. And in that, my actions were probably confusing, to the point that recently, I put myself into an unexpected position of acknowledging the love of someone I care about for someone else entirely.

I can't think but for a second that even if she likes me, I am broken at a very basic level, and if anything, my attempts to be with her were just confusing, and after the nonsense she's been through, she deserved better than that. So somehow, in my mind...I want nothing more than to support her in the pursuit of her own brand of happiness.

But having sat that aside. I don't know that I work right afterall. Anymore, I become very questionful and anxious around people. And yet, I would be the first to admit that I love people, and I've always been amazed and bewildered by the ways the interact. Yet I've always been sort of a one-out.

And now I sit alone, in a hot apartment, filled with things I bet only a bachelor could truly love, wondering why life is and is not. And no, don't think I'm the suicidal type. I am not -- my life has always been one of enjoying the conspicuous beauty of nature and existence. There's days where, though tired, confused, and often disheartened, simply seeing the sun cresting the mountains and pouring light like rain through the clouds cheers me up with the greatest of ease. This world has many things to see, and I plan to live to see as much as I can, however meek and small that sampling of what may be really is.

To some degree, I guess I wish I could wash out a few things of my past and start over, tiptoe around the arrival in this state of being unable to dedicate my heart to anything, as -- even my creative centers have shut down, at this basic lack of understanding of many things.

I said before that I felt like a worker ant, and to some degree, its the utmost truth. I just toil away, day by day, occasionally glancing out and catching some interesting site, which I tend to keep in a pocket for a rainy day, but aside that, one day is as good as the next, until my toils have tired out, along with my body, and it becomes a time to resign, likely into more unending thought about the reason for it all.

Somehow, in death, I think I will understand, though I feel it will probably be a great many years from now, and unexpected. Nor do I like thinking about death, so I suppose THAT particular answer can wait for now.

Whether I'm alone or not, it's nice to at least be alive, and I think for real, thats all I really care about. Even if I do it alone, or surrounded by hundreds. Who knows, and who cares?

My life has been devoid of people I can rely on, and even when I try to open up, it crashes shut again sooner or later. And its not like this is TERRIBLE, somehow, out of anyone, I seem to function really well for being a loner. But still.

Well, whatever, I guess I'm just rambling, since this was one of those nights I didn't have anyone to chatter with about stuff, and I guess spewing it out there, maybe its like some crazy call for some company. Or not, maybe my brain just has a terminal leak I need to plug somehow. Probably the latter. You have NO idea how much I use to email shit like this to X person on Y number of days. It was probably something like 300 of 365 days a year for god knows how long.

Stupid brain, shut up. No one is listening. D:<