Current Musical Selection: White Zombie - Thunderkiss '65

its time i stopped fucking around. its time i just cut back to my roots. enough of the shit in mylife. im really to the point that people can just go fuck themselves. you try, and you try, you bend and you give. you do your damndest to be understanding; to be accesable. and you get lied to. fuck it. no time for shit like that. im better off back in my cave, back by myself, then raking myself with hot coals again. ive spent way to much effort for this... ive spent too much of myself on this. for what? for more lies, more deception; more uncertainty; more shit. shits about all i see. everything is shit. everything turns to shit. the walls, the ground, the colors all swirl to brown. none of it seems worth anything to me anymore. everyday its just more frustration; more complication. im so tired. all i want are the simple things, and those are the things i am denied most. i want just to have someone. is that too much? does God or the universe really hate me so much to keep me from that? just for once i ask for a small stroke of good luck, a blessing, a ducksnort of opportunity. yet, i look and see nothing but despair and desolation. nothing but the blackness and deaths of the illfate, that litter the killing fields of my past, and the future is nothing but a bleak, grey gravel road that winds through it into the mist. nothing. nothing at all. so back to the roots. back to being who i used to be. back to be what i always was, but put on hold for all of this. back to when it was about loud fucking music... drugs and booze.. yeah. back when it all made sense. back when i didnt have to see reality. back when everything made sense. back when i didnt have to try and get rejected each time. back when it made sense to me. back when i didnt matter to me, it didnt matter that girls loathed me, that i was despised by those that had 2 x chromosomes.

ive learned that you can only try so hard, and only for so long before it really starts to dig in again. it crawls in your skin.. it works its way up your back, and into your dreams, it goes into your head, and it doesnt come out... its stays there. its always there, its there in your days and in your dreams, if feeds your words and fills your mind, but it never leaves. it never leaves you, because its all the same. each time is a little different than the last, but it all plays out the same in the end. but im so tired of the end. its a game to people. fuck with what i think; fuck with what i feel... call it a good time, have a few laughs at my expense. it gets old. somedays its comfortable. its warm blanket. its hope. its all the things you want it to be. its normality. its having a relationship with someone thats female thats not family. its all a joke. by now i should have learned how it works, but i havent. i sink back into it all again. i slide back into my old shoes, and for a few moments, tell myself that it might be different; that it might be genuine; that it might not be the same.... that i might have one this time. but its not. i have to lie to myself sometimes. i have to lie to make it through the day sometimes; because if i didnt, it would get to me more than it does. recently it has. i dont know why im sharing any of this... because i still havent shared what ive wanted to say. i dont think i ever will. i think... i think its too soon for me to do that. i think several of my loyal viewers know the truth, and id imagine those of you that are quick of wit will figure it out. but for the rest of you; i cant say it in exact terms. all i can say is i miss having a normal relationship. i miss being able to say i have a girlfriend. i miss having someone to call me, just to talk to me. i miss having someone worry about me if i go out. i miss having someone buy me presents on my birthday. i miss having someone that takes me seriously. i miss someone who just wants to stay at home with me on friday nights. i miss being normal. i miss having a normal relationship. and i envy you all that have that. i envy that you all can have what i cannot, and it all comes so easily to you; and for me, its a struggle, that only ends in emptiness and frustrations.

last night i hardly slept at all. last night i had another monster of a dream that just wouldnt leave me. it was so simple that it scared me. i find myself in a tent, with soldiers. im dressed as one, and for once i realize im me in a dream, and not someone else. i look around and theres maybe a dozen other men my age, sitting around, talking and smoking. they are talking about tomorrow, about some big assult, and about our odds. one by one, we all talk about death, and about how each of us are going to cheat it when the sunrises. several of them dont seem to believe themselves. someone changes the subject. they all start talking about what they are going to do when they get out, when they can go home. they all start taking out pictures of girls and women from home. one is married, a couple have kids.. all of them have a picture of someone, and a story to go with. all of them have beautiful women that honestly sound like theyve got alot to go home to. they get to me. and i have none. i have no story. i have no picture. they think im bullshitting them. i pull out my wallet and open it. theres no money in it, and it just flops open where the bills should be. and i stare at it.. like a big empty void. then i throw it down on the ground. they go through it, even to my disgust. one by one the comments start. all of them think i should have a picutre with me. one man says it should be my reason for living through all of this, my reason for survival. and i have nothing. i finally stop, breakdown, and tell them about some of the girls back home.. just to staunch the flow of comments. each story is true, and is about a girl that i thought meant alot to me. they are all excited to hear the story, they cheer along at times and whistle, but the ending allways kills it. i tell them that i have nothing. they all look away or avert their gazes. the look at me, just not in the eyes... like how you look wearily at someone you cant respect, that cant be an equal; like how you look at a stray dog, or a crippled woman; the misery and the contempty you attach to their appearance, but you cant translate it to their eyes. thats how i was being looked at. one man says 'so just what are you here for anyways?' i tell him that im just here to fight a war. they all laugh. he corrects me, 'what do you think youre here for, whats youre life for if you havent got someone to share it with?' and i cant answer him. it burns in my throat. i can feel my face tighten up. but i still cant answer him.

even now when i think about the dream, i cant answer the man.