Such darkness.

"Put back the stars
I'm out of shape tonight
Pinhole black velvet
Navigation-skills got lost with the fading light
It was there not more then a second ago
Now what do you know, what i do know
Is just not good enough to make things right
Put back the stars
I'm out of place tonight

Ain't it something to know your lost

I hoist my sail
Through there is no wind in sight
And i close my eyes to feel the fresh breeze
Paint the inside of my eyelids bright
Fill the sky with your breath
Cause you know I'm out of mine
Let the sky burn and i will inhale
Without a fight
I hoist my sail
And I'll just wait for you tonight

Ain't it something to know you have lost

Black tar surrounds me now
But life is the next door neighbor
On the outside there is just absence
But when i close my eyes
All i see is Your face"

I know it is lame to be so excited over a smile...but I'll take any victories I can get in these days of frustrating silliness.

Meh.
Meh.
Meh.

And a side helping of bleh.

I really need to just follow my instinct and not waste time like that.

Plus side...returning to school soon.
Very soon.
Thank God.
The predictable chaos is preferred to the unpredictable chaos.

Avant-garde morality.
Yes I just invented the phrase a few minutes ago.
Would someone be a dear and copyright that for me?
I'll be happy to share the proceeds.

I sometimes wonder if I am too general...too vague...
If it is something I consciously do.
In the pain, in the Hells that people craft on this world...there are so many varied and vapid ideas passing through...

Here I am right now.
All this love, doubt, fear, hope...
The hope of giving and loving, not self righteous sacrifice.

This isn't about me.
I do not want it to be about me
I've seen that road and where it goes...

But Father, even when you knew how dirty and worthless I can be, you still loved, still died, still became everything I never knew I would need so desperately.

I sometimes wonder why I am such a weird mix of extroverted and introverted.

It seems like I flip on a dime and will go from wanting so badly to let someone know how much they mean to me...to being absolutely terrified and having this social anxiety with being around anyone at all...

I have the small circle of friends...those I trust, the ones who are basically my siblings in a way...that sounds so cliche.

I just...wonder if You were lonely.
While you walked the roads of the countryside, if you felt this longing for having someone perfectly understand you...that you opened your heart, mind, soul to and could share...and how that meshed with your friends.

I guess I am left to wonder at the impossibility of the Incarnation when I've only had an hour nap and am sitting next to a cat who keep meowing at me.

I watched almost all the first series of "The Young Ones" and what a confused yet funny mess it was.

Anymore random tidbits?
How about...I wish we could see each other right now.
Go for a walk if it was warmer, then sit down and eat a mealt together...just enjoy a day as a day.

That would be a small piece of heaven now.
However...all is fleeting and soon...too soon...

So an ice storm.

Yaaaaay...not so much.

At least maybe I can finish this episode of Escaflowne before I loose power...

"All my dreams are slowly dying.
I can count my years in scars.
The only one that's never left me,
has carried me so very far.
I've heard it said that he wastes nothing,
so beautiful to behold,
the author of my hope is writing,
the greatest story ever told."

The more things change...the more they stay the same...

Those pictures are beautiful and painful reminders of...

Reminders you can never go back.
What once was, was that and will never be that same way again.
Trying to hold onto the past is impossible and dangerous.
Learning to look forward is possible.
Possible and necessary, without it growth never happens.

Unless we grow, we stagnate, decay and fall apart.
We're meant to be so much more than just mere individuals.
The story is beautiful, wonderful and still yet to be told.

The Kierkegaard reference in "Wayne's World" was almost enough to make me like the movie.

Almost.

Okay wow.
Just two hours?
But I covered so many hours, so many days...waking up I thought it has been two days of sleep...not two hours.

Stupid shaking hands and mind.

Geez.

Wow.

At least none of the bad nightmare stuff was true...that's a plus.

Bah, anticipations.

Inner Reaches of the Heart

The wind is howling.
Uncertainty seems to almost float on the breeze,
passing overhead
and here I lie.

Something?
Everything?
Perhaps, nothing at all?

Hope is alive.
Burning quietly
in the deeper reaches
of the dark cavern.
Waiting and anticipating
until the hour to rise
is at hand.

Hope.
Hope.
Hope.

What more do I have?
It is my faith,
the love I feel
and the expectations.

Everything and nothing
while still being in the same breath.

Everything is on display,
like a twisted freak show.
See the gore,
Feel the horror
and watch to see the pain.

So silly how we thrive off of pain
and negligence.

But hope is alive.
Hope is moving
and reaching deeper within
to places
that have yet to be seen.

"It's getting late
And so he forgot, he forgot
Maybe not
Maybe he's been seriously hurt
Would that be worse?"

Rain, Snow, Emotional Outpourings

I am tired.
I really should lay down and sleep.
Not write.
The last thing I should do right now is write.

I am tired, sleepy and achey...so that will lead to me complaining. Asking if God can truly be love when there is so much pain, when I am unable to put my words into action, when I feel emotions that might as well not exist at all because they cannot and never will be reciprocated.

I went to another funeral Saturday.
My mom and one friend are the only ones I could even tell about it.
It was awkward to even talk to them about it because of how much pain I felt over a relationship that really was not very developed...so little time together and most of it was when I was merely only three years or younger...but there has to be memories of my dad just dragged up from the recesses of this mind.

I know, I have to believe we were not created, set on this planet to merely suffer and be in pain...but sometimes I just do not know...the pain is so great, the confusion so grand.

I know there is a point to life, there is love, there is goodness, there is an over abundance of good and wonderful things...but I feel the pain of those I'm around. It's like I just have my soul ripped open and feel all of these overwhelming things...and then it forces me to relive horrible, horrible memories, pain I wish I could just forget.

I'm not brave.
I'm not a hero.
I never could be.
I am selfish and want to find relief from the pain.
I don't want to suffer, suffer for the "good".
I want to find a place to hide.

Somewhere I can be like Gregor Samsa, hide away so no one sees my repulsive sides, hide away and let the festering wounds maybe begin to heal. Maybe in that time people will realize they don't need me and their lives can be easier.

I don't understand why the emotions have to be so raw, so brutal...it's about as subtle as being hit in the face with an ax.

When I feel joy, it is so overwhelming, when there is peace it s complete, when there are the rare flickers of light in my heart...and I remember that I was created to show love...that is when I exploded into action and there is moving, striving, fighting...even if it is just to show those around me what they mean to me.

Bah.

I am such an exhausted and complicated mess.
I cannot run fast enough or far enough away to get away from those I just...

Why?
Why more pain?
Isn't this enough for a life time?

I just wish I could go to Tabor Park N right now.
Silly as that is.
Or maybe to the Rattle and Hum.
I miss those days so much.

I can write more words.
But what sad, pitiful person...who deserves something as a reward for reading this garbage this far, that person, does not deserve more of this.

Things aren't horrifying.
I am in pain but that is normal.
I feel this weird mix of being isolated but closer to people.
I wish I could answer questions with much more ease.

If someone asks how I am, why can I not lie?
It's what most people want to hear.
But I suppose if people want to know the truth hard enough they could put fort the effort.

Which is one reason I just find it hilarious screwed up how...how...oh Christ, what is the point?

None, Jesus, none.
Just more evidence of a wasted life, wasted hours, wasted minutes, wasted seconds.

I'm too exhausted for anger, for outrage, for emotion...

I wish I could feel this empty void filled...I suppose that is my worst fear...that it'll be here in eternity but it'll only grow...I'll become this negative form that consumes, destroys...and loses what it means to be alive, to serve and love.


And here ago.
More words, more words, more words.
I'll at least do all I can to do the right thing.
Christ will never forsake me, even with all the pain and fear...thankfully that love doesn't depend on my performances...unlike some I could mention...but why do such a stupid and shallow thing?

Sleep.
Rest.
Maybe a restoration of something once lost...

Sometimes, when I am asked what am I doing...what am I going to do...I feel embarrassed, like an idiot for being in school this long, having degrees but wanting more education.

I am not sure why but I need to teach and if I can do it at the university level and I do not loose my mind that will be utterly fantastic.

As far as church work...I want so badly to feel like I belong to a church...but until then I am not sure...I just do not want to randomly work at a church with how easily I burn out and loose sight with such silly things going on...

I am loved.
I am wanted.
I am slowly changing...I want to become better.
To embrace the light and smile.
Can you teach me how to sing, how to move and what it means to be alive?
It's like starting again...and I just want to see, want to feel...want to breath.
All like I have never before.

Why is it I only see them is when someone dies?
I'm starting to feel more than slightly cursed.

So many thoughts.
So much potential drama.
All of this idioticy of trying to figure out the next semester at UM must have shot my confidence about being on stage in the face.

The prospect of auditioning or even trying out is utterly terrifying right now.

I suppose I feel the same way every time I try to write...but I guess it wouldn't be life without a mountain of existential dread staring me in the face.

Meh.

-_-

I can do this.
I can learn lines.
I can make phone calls until the jerks call me back.
I can be happy wherever I am, doing whatever I have to do...just so I can do what I am called to...because I am loved.

I am not a horrible, horrible unthinkable and unlovable sinner.

I am me.
Silly, tired, worn down, sick but still laughing me.
There is hope.
Even when I am rejected, told I am an idiot, made fun, belittled and made to feel I am nothing...there is still hope.

Just passing through here on my way to my real home.

Quote of the Day:

"The most common form of despair is not being who you are."
-Søren Kierkegaard

Because of my recent desire to try and make some tangible difference in the world beyond just praying, this article caught my eye:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-12022303

Ah neurosis my old friend.
I believe Woody Allen wrote a lot about you...

Taking myself too seriously...such a funny notion.
Why am I so worried?
Why was I?

Hrmm...
Things are better than I could dream or hope.
Nothing wrong with emotion...just remembering to find peace...to find a place of rest and looking back...taking time for perspective.

Not just these silly little ideas floating in my head.
Love and truth still walk hand in hand...

Outside of saying help...and hoping that somehow things work out right...

What else is there to say?

Blinking Christmas Lights

It's almost six AM,
the day after Christmas
and I miss what once was.
I used to have such expectation
a growing excitement
and wonder about a day
full of getting,
close hugs
and walking across a field
that is now full of brown vines and death.

I lay here in this bed,
my eyes catch the glimmer of light
of a passing time
maybe of a life
that never was
or never could be.

I used to be so young,
so small,
naive and hopeful about this world.

I saw through the lenses of a story
of good fighting evil,
of raising a sword
and casting spell
to beat back the relentless night
and all of her hordes.

Before my heart closed
and began its decay
into this twisted,
dark and fetid thing
there was this capacity for love
and wanting to share the adventure.
I was naive and stupid
not caring about others thoughts
but soon,
soon I learned to be afraid.
That people were cruel,
dark, blind and willfully stupid
and the monsters were not under the bed
but just down the hall.

I look at my world,
this small strip of land
and I know I am loved,
so blessed
and wanted around.

But still,
I struggle to see reality
and see the point of life
that is beyond these artificial lights
and this God awful poetry.

I pray,
I have begged God
to close my heart
and harden it against this world.
So I would never feel affection,
feel attraction
or want to be loved
or stupidly consider opening myself
to just being used,
ripped apart
and have my insides gayfully displayed
just so a girl might giggle
and add another check mark.

But this stupid heart refuses to cooperate
and instead,
look at me,
born loser and bastard extraordinaire
who paints with shades of pain
such pitiful portraits
and yet the feelings remain.

I do not want them,
I am too weak
and cannot carry this.

Sure,
You know best
but
why must it hurt so much?

I blink my eyes,
the pain remains
and I fall further
and farther
down this rabbit hole,
falling head over heels
into this darkness.
I feel the claws ripping my skin
and I just wish it could be something else,
nothing but truth
but hope that even with my self hate
I might grow to hope
and maybe
just maybe
this battle was not a waste.

Why must I feel?
Care when I'm not wanted?
Give when it's nothing worthwhile
and nothing worth remembering?

Why do I feel this?
Why do they flutter in my chest
touching my heart
and pulling my soul?
I am much too tired
and too weak,
unable to make this trip.

Call it off,
just let it die inside of me
instead of a prolonged death to self
which will be decades in the making.

Hope
that none of these prayers are heard
and if they are,
it is seen as the ramblings of a sick man
and maybe a healing,
some process
might just dare to begin.