So as the years begin to wane through an insecure perfection, twist of time has entered my thinking with both fists flailing, and Here I am unsettled by what I perceive... A man who doesn't even live for himself anymore, always questioning somewhere deep if he ever did, and the sadness that darkens the steps necessary to positively affect change... Sometimes it seems as though it will never ever change, but even attitudes as subtle as neutrality erode that function of communication, by replacing that with resentment like a ritual lesson to witness... Change occurs naturally, but there many things can give the false impression that there is no motion happening, this is the terror that could bring about horrible doubts and tension where communication still lies most vital... A creature of habit never faces change with positive amazement, but instead seeks to view things with a stark and narrowed mind... This sickness disturbs me, as I fight with myself to reach some certain conclusions, I find myself yet working on reverse to the detriment of all the plans made for me in spite of that careful planning... Somewhere in there I plan to get a vasectomy because where I was once unsure of the idea, now I have come to see where it makes the most sense, and I have never felt right about myself in this way of passing on traits... Feeling lost inside oneself doesn't not require passengers, and this is where my own behavior has hurt the one closest to me, it is because of my own stubborn and spastic relentlessness that I need to now reassess the value in my own life... No direction and no love or respect that hasn't been a lie before, lack of any real thing to move me, and my chances at shared pursuit of bliss has been flushed by yours truly Here... Now with the deteriorating relationship, the acknowledgment that I don't want children, and disinterest with my current ways becoming the habit... It feels like the change that is fast approaching in my life, feeling torn to act on, is always going to put pressure on me... Let's call them in a mildly gnostic sense my 'A' influences, and there is always enough of them that my own life feels at stake in admitting my fuck-ups... Sometimes it feels easier to give up, but then that contemplation leaves a gap large enough to fit what guilt that cannot be let go of... Even this monologue feels less cathartic than it should, I have apologized for my actions, but that doesn't excuse what damage is done... What kind of reputation does failure uphold?... Should I even be this wired for feeling bad?... I thought I could write for a living, or even just pass myself off as an artist of the written word, but I can't seem to talk to anyone seriously these days... A liar can't get away from himself, no matter how forgetful the swines they roll around with, and with an unstable feeling in the stomach... Wishing for something other than this... I have heard many different arguments to define the one side of the overall situation, but no little colloquialism is going to make the future seem brighter, we are flawed and have learned these various patterns together... How to un-ingrain some of this worthless behavior?... Mistakes, I have my share of them, but when the feeling left is one of expectation for the worst... How can anyone live like this?... I have made my closest friend and ally into an enemy that can't take the heat, but how can she get out of the "kitchen" without us both making mistakes on the way to the doors?... My hard-won love is really a very depressing cycle of manipulation that we have built into our culture, the speed with which we crash and spin to the floor when there is damage, and how survival succumbs to this game of psychological warfare when what we actually need is the collective welfare... Where does this insulting drive stem from, I wonder, because the more I resist the greater the pressure seems to grow... Bursting like condensation from the storm cloud, the hate from within pushes others away, radiating like a void suckling nihilistically at the life energy of everything... the pulsing beating mass burning in my heart abates in the empty cold... i am to burn in the fiery membrane between worlds like the rest of the nasty lower dregs that we are, the doomed to repeat mistakes made, and the crusty surface breaks and brings it all to the core again and again...
Thanks, khet.
