So what. Dis be another day of working. I’m so glad Actionscript is like Java. Else I’d be screwed.
Well, I had a nightmare last night, but the strange thing was that it wasn’t while I was asleep… My brother came home yesterdy, and we were working out, just lifting the weights and all, and after just chilling and talking with him about things going in my life, since he’s been out of it for awhile, we happened to talk about relationships and all. He’s had a very different yet comparable time with relationships as I have. The strangest thing is that all this time I never wanted to duplicate or become like that of him and how he has handled relationships, yet slowy I’ve seen myself caught up in the web of drama and of self-doubt. It’s all like a classic Billy Wilder’s film-noir writing and directing style melodrama. A never ending movie, where the good and the bad are mixed and there exists a fine line between the light and the dark, good and evil, and no one really knows who’s right till the end is inevitable and someone dies and the film is caught up in a whirlwind of tragedy and self-righteous deprecation, which of course doesn’t make sense because ‘self-righteous deprecation’ is like a contradiction. But isn’t life and life depiction in film a intrinsically contradictory? Anyway, I put my life on the stand and reviewed how it was. I tried from every angle to appreciate what I’ve become and see the good mixed with bad. Experience is teacher, but that doesn’t mean it goes without leaving its mark. You get burnt sometimes and it leaves a scar; sometimes its one that only yourself can see.
So here I was, busting a constant rep of 215 pounds of bench press, and, that’s pretty good for me since I’ve been out of school and haven’t been working out lately. My brother was lifting dead 260, but damn that boys getting big. Mad props to the man, except he doesn’t need me to tell him that. I felt sick after leaving cause my boobs hurt. Gotta stretch ’em before working out, ne? oUcHiE…! So, Pete and I were leaving, and he said, as a passing comment as we entered our house, “I dun have to worry bout it”, and in my mind I thought… “Yeah, you don’t have to worry about it, cause it’s not your problem”.
Life is a journey you don’t wanna take on alone. And yet for a good portion of it you learn to go it alone. All thru childhood, and pre-adolescence, and up until your in college, and thru college… I guess it all depends on when or if you find that special someone. Yah, I know all thru those times you have friends, and ‘best’ friends, and family, and whatnot and whoever you find to be compassionate and caring. But the road is a journey you take alone, and the people you pass by on the road are those friends, but the thing is that they are on their own roads too, and eventually, those roads may part and go different directions… Hell, they may eventually come back and touch yours again. I find the road to be full of problems and pot-holes and such. The only one that is consistently there for me is God. He’s probably carrying me more than I do walking, relatively speaking. But, other than Him, the road is frightfully barren. I guess it’s all in how you look at it or how you interprete life or how you analyze it if you do at all… You gotta make the best of the one route or road your given, and just hope that it doesn’t come to an end too quickly or dramatically. Life is too short, come to think about it, and the journey is a finite one, in this world perhaps, but hopefully it’ll continue on into a near copy, or better one perhaps… Dependant on the life you live here on earth.
But, the reason I’ve been thinking about all this stupid shit is because I’ve met a great person. There stands with me on my road someone of equal or possibly greater worth than I. She is walking with me, sometimes behind, sometimes ahead of me, but our roads have converged to some extent. The road that we share isn’t perfect. It’s still full of problems and holes that must be beaten and overtaken. It’s just that the possibility of walking the road with someone else, is kinda freaky. It’s like you’ve walked it alone for so long and suddenly your not alone anymore. Call it whatever you want, but it seems so sudden, so exciting, so scary sometimes, that I’m not sure what to do with it. I’m an easy going guy, and take my steps with leisure… Sometimes it looks like she’s skipping or jogging, or running and its hard for me to catch up sometimes. I try to keep up with her, but she’s such a driving force that I’m forcibly thrown in the race that she presents to me. It’s like a unbreakable paradox. The untimely demise of something destructive, which of course would be good, but isn’t…? Am I drowning is self-pity for something so worthwhile? I feel sometimes that I’ve made a grave mistake, one that cannot be taken back and thrown away and forgotten. One that could shake the foundations of my life and future so strongly that recovery is all but impossible. Other times it feels like I’ve secured the foundation of life and and prepared to build onto it. Happiness and Joy and Loss and Despair seemed to be wrapped in a single package. Sorting things out is nearly impossible since they seem to be all one thing, one-in-the-same. Sometimes a feeling of completeness rolls over my body and life seems to have its meanign and direction. Other times there seems to be something missing… something so minute and small, that it becomes the thing that haunts you. The thing starts out small, nearly noticeable, but it grows and grows and you wonder whence it came from and where its going and why it there and how your going to fight it, if it needs fighting. What if its a good thing, but I’m too blind to realize it? What if its a passing whim, simply there to jolt me from the path that seems to right? Speak of the Devil… temptation and deceit, rolled up into a sweet sweet package, undeniably wanted… but that always ends in heartache and destruction. It’s like a rose. So sweet to the senses… All but one of course. It looks spendid, so you get closer… It’s silent, so your not afraid of it, so you get closer… It smells good, so you get even closer… and then you touch it and the thorns prick you and you have to either grasp it and holdon and bleed pain and suffering or let go. Either option is so hard to come by… You don’t wanna let go but you’re so hurt by the effects that you realize that the ethereal aspects, such as the sight and smell of it are overtaken by the physical and quite possibly the emotional and pyschological pain given by the sweet sweet rose… and its bed of thorns.
So here I was, lying in my bed, not even bothering to take a shower cause I was so exhausted. I had a tough day at work: sometimes they push us interns to the brink of death, and then ask us to do some more. The heirarchy is something of a science… And then seeing my brother, that was cool, and then working out for a while, and discussing things that mattered little or a lot. It all adds up to something that drains the body and spirit. I’m lying there, and I’m thinking about her. Thinking about those times we spent together, those special moments that chimed in the beginning of something that could possibly last me a lifetime… and what was so interesting was that it brought me so much pain and grief. I never wanna forget those times I spent with her. From that very first kiss, to the very last one. Those moments and experiences are mine forever to hold and to remember… But that doesn’t mean that they give me comfort or joy, or pain, or whatever… Just a mix of jumbled feelings that seemingly express themselves individually so as to take the moment and spark mad interest or destroy them as quickly as they come. I remember holding her for the first time… Seeing her there and believing all was right in the world. I remember holding her face in my hands, her hot tears strolling down her cheeks, and I vainly trying to wipe them away with my small fingers… I remember looking into those dark, liquidly eyes, feeling them penetrate mine looking as deeply into me as the bottom of my soul and feeling so overcome with emotion. I was looking for something… I was like a little boy, looking over a massive gorge, slowly creeping to the edge and seeing the vast mouth of an infinite range of thought and emotion. I was a little boy. I was a little boy crawling up to a deep, dark pond, and when I looked over the edge, all I saw was myself. In her eyes… I saw myself in her eyes, in her glossy, teary-eyed, emotionally filled eyes… The wonder was immense… Like rivers her tears would flow and I was too slow to prevent them from falling. I remember spending nights with her, feeling her breathing with me in rhythm unlike that of any other, and feeling all but complete. I remember sitting there in that little deli, eating some combination of carbon-based material, caring little of the taste of it but sharing that moment with someone that I truly cared for. I remember her head, playfully cocking to one side and her eyebrows raised high with one hand supporting her chin and the other randomly playing with her food… A portrait of flawless perfection… It all seems like moment captured for eternity… one of those moments that are remembered to the world. But that night, that night I was lying in my bed, it seems like a Salvador Dali painting. The aspects were there, but construed and misrepresented to something that wasn’t quite as true and noble. I remember all those experiences that I shared with her… I didn’t take enough pictures of her. The one that is emblazoned in my mind is her walking, so carefree, so alone. We had stopped for gas and something to eat on our trip to Boston. And I grabbed my digital and we were walking over to the some rest stop visitor center. She was wearing a red skirt, and the wind was blowing. Silhouetted by the parked cars she walked, with her hair blowing in the wind. In one still frame she wasn’t looking at me, just walking, with not a care in the world. One foot slightly ahead of the other, almost touching the ground, but not. The other firmly planted on the ground, representing all that she was. A strong being with a sense of personality and individuality that could never be rivaled. A strong faith in God and a solid background represented that connection between her foot and the ground. She was looking forward, head slightly bent, to show her humble side and definition. With the wind blowing her hair back and across her face, the moment capture was taken as she lifted her right hand to adjust some of the lost locks of hair that happend to cross her face. Forcibly and gently she was frozen in time to adjust those strands of hair. Nothing in the world seemed to be wrong. The sun was shing down upon her, like a spotlight, giving her the floor and captured the audiences attention. It produced a glossy finish on her skin and her hair as it was thrown back with the wind. It was a moment that meant nothing at the time, but as I came home and saw it, I fell in love with it. Another still frame, a couple seconds later had her slightly shift her head in my direction, so that I could see her face ever so slightly. In the middle of stride, she turned to me and gave me a sly smile, still using her right hand to place back misplaced hair so thrown over by the wind. With a grin and a smile that would have melted freshly fallen snow, she faced me, in mid stride as I captured the moment for eternity. Of all the pictures that I cherish, It was these two that have been permantly penciled into my mind. A moment that wasn’t necesarilly shared by us, but it was something that meant a lot to me, then, in retrospect, and now.
And here I was, lying in my bed. These two images filling my head. And it was a nightmare because these images that meant so much and that were so cherished in my minds-eye were being glossed over… sort of like framed behind glass, and suddenly they would fracture and fall into a million pieces, as if someone took a hammer and drilled it into the center. And that precious memory that meant so much was broken… I was trying to control myself. I didn’t know what to do. I know I wasn’t sleeping, yet this event was on a continuous loop. It would replay in my mind over and over and over again. It wouldn’t stop. Inside I was screaming. I was a little boy again, holding my hands over my eyes, crouched down in the corner, with tears streaming down my face thru my hands, and I was screaming at the top of my lungs to stop… plz stop. plz… stop… The person that I cared for and loved was being destroyed in front of my face and all I could do was hear the crunching of the glass fall to the blank floor and see her shattered… It was so surreal and yet so distinct and visible. It still haunts me as I type. Why had this picture entered my mind? Why…? I asked myself a thousand times, and I was rolling in my bed, sweating, cursing under my breathe that sleep take me away from this horrid thoughts. My mind was like a gun, about to explode and take some life away from me. And I couldn’t stop the trigger from being pressed, even though I was the one that held the weapon… I was scared… And eventually, I fell into an uneasy sleep, totally devoid of thought and reason… A dream of nothingness, yet I was complete.
I knew it was coming. I had felt it deep down in my body. The demon inside me finally awakening because it had smelled the thing that I ams so afraid of showing. It had smelled weakness. I was weak. I was frail and so open to be taken advantage of. I was open and aware… Aware of all these things that haunt the mind and body and destroy the spirit. It makes you not wanna get up in the morning, or eat, or do anything. The destruction was nearly complete… It had been there the whole time. And was just waiting for me to realize it. Conclusions were all that I had been wishing for, something palpable to grasp and take action on. And it gave it to me. And, I didnt want it anymore. I didn’t want it. I saw what it was, and I told myself, “This is what you wanted boy… now you damn well take it”. But that little boy inside me didn’t want it. No one would want it, yet that little boy had enough courage to stand up, wipe his teary eyes, clear his vision, and take a step to hold it, and to grasp it, and to keep it. Why had I been so weak when the little me had been able to do the impossible…? I am just a shell of the person I once was. I was so complete. I was never complete… What is it that drives hypocrisy to rule and demand control of your life? It must be human flaw, or intrinsically instilled in mankind, as to be discovered, or denied for all time. Life is overwhelming sometimes… And I’m all but fed up with it. I don’t need this. I really don’t…
I’m not good at this anymore. I had told myself… No, I had convinced myself that I WAS good at this. I’m not. As I grow older, I become aware of the flaws that were there but that I denied when I was young. I’m not that great at math, or science as I once thought. I’m not that good at a lot of stuff. Life’s a constant discovery of things new, and things that we were blind to in the past. It’s the latter that hurts the most.
As I sit here and type I feel spent. I feel like there is nothing left inside of me. This is but a skin and nothing beneath it is real. An autonomous body, when given instructions, obeys. I guess that’s what the modern workforce feels like. Individuality is a premium I suppose. I can’t think, breathe, or live without being dictated that I’m allowed to. Maybe I should turn the music down, cause I can’t concentrate either…
I can’t tell when these ideas and conclusions came upon into my head. It seemed that they just were increasing and suddenly decided to plateau… The distance now that parts me and her physically is larger than it ever was before… I’m in Florida, she’s in Boston. The emotional connection and interest is still there… Yet, its getting hard. I once thought that I could make it work. I know I can. I know I can still make it work. But its so hard. And it hurts. It’s like being able to taste the fruit of paradise and then suddenly being taken away to some place less than adequate and being made to eat less than adequate food. I’ve had that experience with her. I’ve had the best that I could have possibly had. It could only get better. But it hurts so much not to be near her right now, that I’m almost tempted to cut it off because it hurts so much. I’ve never thought that this would be a problem, but it has. It has grown from that little hole in my stomach to filling my entire soul with despair. Distance is such a bitch. And I can’t deal with it anymore. The problem with her and me is that sometimes we can be so indecisive. Someone has to put their foot down and take a stand and be the stronger one for both of us. I don’t wanna do it. I’ve done it before and it nearly killed her… and me. But things have changed since then. I feel it. Like I feel it in the air before the rain comes. You just feel it. And its out of place. It’s not right. And before the storm comes, you wanna get out of the way, and not get wet. This is no ones fault but mine. I will take the blame for all of it. Because it is my fault. I am the sole bearer of my own problems and decisions and actions. The more I think about her, the more it hurts. And I can’t live like that. If she was here, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything, but she’s not, and since we live so far away from eachother, even during school, it’s gonna make it even harder. The risks are high. So high as to dispel most visitors and challengers. But I’m like that, take the big risks and fall even harder. But its not worth anything if the risks aren’t taken, ne? Life is a journey as I’ve said in the beginning. It’s a journey that sometimes we go alone… and sometimes we find those few that would like to go with us. I can work through this. I just need some time. Please. Why doesn’t time move more swiftly for me…? Why…? I wanna be in control. But I’m not. I can do this. I’ve gone thru worse. This hurts so much… a thousand needles thru my heart.
I’m so tired… I was tired last night. And I’m tired now. Let this dream die, and let me be victorious one more time. But at what cost…?
Conclusions are hard to come by now a dayz…
Whatz done is done… Here comes the storm… I’m ready.