The Barren Years and the Ballgame (Black Widow) Mature content No. 202 Published January 10th, 2021 7:05am pst read ( words) Past entries "1-7... More. The beginning was difficult because I would not let go of one in favor of the other. Very tough, those months, although I had been pulled quite a bit in one direction. Fucking tugged. So I went. The feeling is lost... Gone now, and after more than six years. Gone for good. It cannot return due to the changing atmosphere and levels of living. Everything is much too different now as opposed to the quiet time during eleven. Life is vastly contrasting that time in the cave, in fact. Yes, I have all of the crap here which lived in that small space, but the feeling of being here is not the same at all. Those hours I spend alone most days are generally split between productive behavior and concern. I am in a hole born of so many years losing out on what has grown to be the most important aspect of living. So much time passing has damaged my brain in ways I cannot begin to calculate. Obsessive, distracting behavior takes up much of my waking hours, along with dreaming of everything missing. The very idea of this type of arrangement did not arise in my mind, ever. I did not think it possible at all. And I will say the issue has driven me into very dangerous territory on more than a few occasions, not the least of which is the prospect of leaving everyone and everything behind. That type of threat arose several times until I calculated that aside from following through, nothing would change. I still cannot believe this entire period has been reality. I caused loads of damage throughout a very long period of time but figured that feeling the way I do these days is payment. Well, apparently I was wrong. Switch. I'll come back to that shit in a little while. I have not the fortitude to go on much before falling flat on my face. The ballgame is fucking horrible right now. Barren is only good in the desert. Today has been mild for the most part. I took care of some things, published another scathing entry (the bad mood is worsening), and took time for relaxing in front of the show with this machine. I still do not have the house to myself, either. The distractive nature of someone else being here is minimal, though, and I can do as I please. The office progressed a bit, some laundry after changing sheets yesterday, and I still have a few things to care for before the evening arrives. Plenty of time. Very good. I keep thinking about the entries which remain behind a door to which only I have access and I am beginning to believe that flexing such as this may not be a good idea. I mentioned this morning that I may be unfair in displaying titles sans links and filing some entries in a manner inaccessible by anyone else is akin to dangling a carrot never to be reached. Not good, but I felt it and did it anyway. I am angry, and as such tend to do things which make others unhappy. This is all I have. It really is. 1-8. Another day. It feels like I was sitting here with coffee not five minutes ago. Eight days into the new year and seven since the fateful, worthless line in the sand. I am no better, the memories are killing me, the references mentioned here just a day ago are making me angry, yet I still show off a pleasant front to the others. They have no idea I am this bad. Perhaps if they earned the right to hear what I have to say things would be different, both out in the world and inside my head. For the time being, I must keep going in this fashion until something comes along for motivation. I may strike, I may not. Right now I just don't know, but the more little stings and digs which take place are not helping me wait. Nope, I don't care. Unfair is fine. I will continue to be unfair. The years built up in my head to the point of pushing the obsession into the type of territory in which I try to imagine what is out there... What I am seeing. How do they live? I stared for a very long time and a few stood out. The girl on Oak Street, the one on California Street, and then that fucking slew of dimensional passion in the shopping center this last year. Lately I see very little of anything other than the television. But still, I see all those from the past, and at the time (especially when I laid eyes on the Raven in her low-rise jeans and boots with all that flowing black hair) with the obsession at a peak and my desire right on its heels, the imagination went very far. 'How do they live', indeed. What I was picturing ended up causing more difficulty and turmoil with regard to the Raven than I had thought possible. Throughout the barren years I dreamed every single day about all I was not experiencing and turned my senses toward those visions out in the world. Dreamed. And everything hurt me because there was nothing close, nothing available. Well, this new year is now the culmination of all that dreaming and need. Still angry, just a different reason. People close to me are fortunate I am not a violent person. I have no answers. While the truth is I can think too much and go over the same ideas many times and create a worsening situation for myself, I am not to blame for this. Everything related points all the way back so many years but still feels fresh, as if I had been maligned just yesterday. I feel it deeply, and I feel that the time between, those years of the gigantic web being spun and secured, have served not to cement me in place but to cause more frustration and analysis than I care to admit. All the way back to 'Alexis...' I was fucked up. And the week that essay was written I spent here at home, alone. Remember that one? So fucking unclear that no one could possibly get the point, right? I don't care. Read it twenty more times. The point is there was no avenue... Nothing. I closed myself up and relied upon those seldom occasions when I found myself actually treated a small percentage point toward what I needed. Yep, that is all. The essay I mentioned up there was ambiguous for good reason, too. Spelling out some of this would come back to haunt me within minutes. Anyway, that older entry was the first and damned-near only time I addressed such a huge fucking problem. Maybe I should have labeled this 'issue five', although it does predate some of the others. Ah, fuck. I don't know anymore. The fact remains that nothing has changed, I've been driven beyond sense more than once during the intervening years, and there is no long-term solution other than to speak my mind. If I do that? Everyone will walk away from me. That is fine -- mostly -- but there are still attachments I need in this life if I am to continue. Having no avenue has been worsening, meaning my silence has been creating a vast, negative space inside which is very dangerous for both myself and others. I can already see this morning will be tough once I am alone. Just a little while, perhaps an hour, and I have the house to myself for the first time in several days. I must keep everything in mind or I will come out the other side of this day very disappointed. The issues are related. Everything is related, remember? As of this moment I am inside, completely, and as such cannot do much of anything aside from lashing here or demonstrating my dissatisfaction in ways which will put off others. And when I say 'put off', I mean permanently. The fact is I just have to stow it right now. Not easy. Time to think, like always. And now the house is mine for most of the day. Alone is good. No one needs my shit attitude thrown in their direction. I'm going to need to shelve the issues this morning lest I end up in a hole again like Monday. That was not good but didn't last long. Honestly, the pull is just too much at times and I descend quickly. Keeping in mind the aftermath means I have to remain busy after putting this crap to the side and entering the routine. I have things to do, and the passage of time today is very important for my stability. Recalling the recklessness with the Raven and all those trips to the goblet forces me to push harder than usual. I ran my ass off due to being sans fulfillment. The world is so fucked up right now that I can't go anywhere. I just have to stow all the shit until something changes. In order to remain upright and content with myself this morning, I am ignoring all the desire and those faces which send me flying unlike anything in existence. She is out there, somewhere. I know it. Patience. The name 'Jaime' is now synonymous with joy. Just a name, but one which conjures everything imaginable. And imagination is all I have left. After spending the season watching those Goddamned holiday movies and gazing at Brooke, Grace, Torrey... Etc., my head is awash with everything related to eleven and the drastic turns I took to find that comfort. And stating that 'she' is out there is nothing more than an extension of my delusional state. Reality equals discomfort and problems, whereas the dream equals quite the opposite. Just this morning -- very early -- Natalie and Ellie popped into my head and damned-near had me falling to the floor again. Very bad. They were out there, too. I found them. Others? Yep. Several. But right now there is only difficulty. I cannot be specific, however. The realization two nights ago has jaded everything I see, including people. No trust, no true comfort, only snippets of enjoyment here and there, all the while that shit is right behind me, looming. This is the fucking result of the years. My condition is such that something comes across the screen or draws my attention away from everyday life (or reminds me of one of those names above) and then I can't get rid of it no matter the effort. Those moments early in the pandemic in which I stood behind the sofa and had no idea of a direction are nothing when compared to being pulled in a way not easy to deal with. The strongest fucking strain in existence. I can feel it right now. This is bad, and as I said, the result. Years pushed me into very dark territory and when the opportunity arose to find what I needed, I ran, effectively causing one of the most dangerous situations ever. That lesson must be retained lest I do it again. I turned my life upside down for months and nearly did not survive. The ballgame comes to mind. I created it out of all the summed desperation and trouble with my physical self because there was nothing else. That time shines as what could have been the end of me. Sometimes I am ok with the direction, while other times I feel that the slam I could have caused key individuals would have been worth it. Right now I just don't know, but I will say that the years between have shown me little else. Read that again. I am still unsure if any of this is worthwhile. Switchtrack. The glow. Again. I can't stop thinking of that time and all it encompassed. There are pictures in my head, from the other glow -- the Christmas trees in three living rooms -- to the image of looking down to see a pair of light green three-quarter cut bottoms leading up to an exaggerated, narrow waist partially obscured by a mass of blonde hair... Her bra strap dividing fair skin as a line between two ends of wonder. Unreal. There are many differing scenes which I can still see in my head. The glow. The holidays and the manner in which everyone gathered for those times. The theatres, the mall, and the restaurants. The mountains and trips to the casino resort with family. Everything. And? I didn't even fucking know it. I suppose that type of realization is partly to be expected. I am similar to many people and I am certain they look back to sections of life just as I do. For whatever reason -- possibly the barren years and piles of damage I caused during eleven -- the period now appears brighter than ever. Even in the middle of the ballgame when my senses are simultaneously blown up and confused, everything is different. I have to leave part of this out, though. Too much detail will lead to fallout. The last time there was fallout I nearly died. No one wants or needs that any longer. Enough. The Raven. Yep... Her. A very short period of time which does not glow like the earlier part of life. She glows, but the time was bad. Negative space, for sure. I barely made it out of there alive. One of us did not. 1-9. Another day with an inbox full of emails. Unbelievable. I keep trying to pare down the amount of information coming into my account, although some of it is due to me wishing to receive updates and such from certain companies. I don't need everything. And who cares anyway? I have larger concerns right now. In a little while I need to cruise over and pick up the goddess so we can shop for supplies. Her bathroom project is going to move along today. I also need a few things for myself, so a trip to the big box is in order. We will probably have the football games on in the background, too. Very nice. Upon returning here, I will get started on my usual stuff, by that point in the day my work will include a little belated holiday cheer next to the kitchen sink. Also nice. Tomorrow is just football and relaxation. Always the next day there is trouble inside me, and I know not why. I am relaxing this morning with coffee and some television in the background, yet underneath it all my subconscious seems to be driving issue four home like a large hammer. This happens so often that there must be a reason related to either physiology or possibly my mindset. I don't get it though. Quite the pain to sit here and consider options, and trying to write anything cohesive and meaningful is made more difficult due to being partially preoccupied. Well, I decided to put a little something on from the holiday season, and it is the movie with Grace because I have yet to see the whole thing play out. Already? She is amazing, right out of the fucking gate. Seeing her up there will not affect the trouble going on inside, though. She is different. Yes, I said that. I still would love to slather her skin with my tongue, but it's not the same as the others... Bethany, for example. She is similar to many actors on this channel: Fairly young, gorgeous and well-dressed, sweet and kind. It's a Christmas movie, after all, so nothing is very unsettling in the first place. They are cast well. I will need to remain upright throughout the movie and keep the issues swirling inside me from emerging. I just want to see Grace from as many angles as possible right now. Fuck, what a paragraph. Damn, right next to Bethany (who is diminutive), everyone looks tall, but I believe Grace is up there a bit. There is very little information on her out in the world because she is still very young and her career is just beginning, however I have scoured anyway. There is a touch of others in her face, too, like Natalie Portman for one, and the combination makes her appear dreamy. I just hope Grace is not any younger than I have calculated or I will be in trouble. Lots of backlash. I don't need that over an obsession which seems to now be far beyond my control. And I will attempt to rein in my shit before gushing too much. Not very often have I been taken off my feet like this. Sometimes there are very few things out of place, while the rare occasion finds nearly none. sooner or later I will have the movie on this machine so I can extract still images for slathering all over the site. Yes, that will happen. Damn this morning shit, anyway. I'm happy I'll be leaving the house in just over an hour. Sitting here too long will mean disappointment, just like so many years passed. Damn it. Yesterday I made nice and had the fucking wall up in full force. I needed one of those afternoons sitting quietly in front of the show. It was very comfortable and warm, like each occasion. Inside I was all fucked up like always, yet I did not let anything fly for fear of ruining the day. I've done that too many times and have learned to categorize my feelings and only release those which will bring others up rather than so far down. I'm good at that. I have also learned that when I believe I am completely in the right about a subject, the truth is I might not, and that means looking at each facet before spouting off like a madman. I need to put everything into perspective and only say what may help rather than reverting to the harsh nature of which I am the champion. Others have feelings, too. The fact is everything has become difficult and dire because of all those barren years. They have jaded me so badly that each time there is opportunity for true fulfillment, I feel like it's the end of the world and my head reacts accordingly. The wall fell down for a little while for the same reason. I could not help it. Grace's pelvic region reminds me of a woman I know (knew) who is my height and quite thin. Likely one of the most beautiful women I have laid eyes upon in this town over ten years. Yes, really, although her personality leaves a bit to be desired. As far as the physical -- on the outside -- the images are staggeringly gorgeous, both because of her dark, exotic features and her exaggerated height. That is the reason for something slightly off around the midsection. I can't really explain it, but Grace shares that appearance. It might be the style of pants but I can't be certain. This is the first time seeing the movie from the beginning. Bethany is tiny, and her costar (male) is very tall, so ascertaining Grace's fucking height is not easy. Perhaps I should just wait until she is more well-known and look it up. But that midsection is irritating. Her face is another story, though. Even when disconcerted, her expression is adorable and sinister at the same time. So fucking beautiful that I can't stand it sometimes. She doesn't remind me of the woman I know, just the one aspect stood out in a scene as she approached the camera. We are only going to see so much because it is a Hallmark movie after all. I will say that if I had to create levels, Grace is now far above every single other female actor I have seen on this channel in five years. Brooke is parallel, of course. The feelings for that one are dissimilar, you know. Very bad. Ugh... Enough of them. Barren years did much of this. I believe one of the most clarifying statements related to the obsession and what happened to it throughout the last half year or more has been illuminated by my feelings when I see that girl on the screen (or Brooke, similar draw there). It is very simple, as well. The fact is that the barren years drove my desire through the roof and enough to push me into imagining how some women feel about the subjects at hand, along with my basic needs solidifying like never before. I just did not imagine years ago that I would end up in such a position, although here I sit many years later and all fucked up over the relationship between the obsession and the desire. Remember the thong sisters down there in Paradise? That was likely the strongest (albeit belated) draw toward another person in a very long time. The combination was right there before my eyes: The appearance and the need to swallow, ravage, whatever, and here you go... One of them was shaped very similarly to the root cause of my present condition, yet the major difference is knowing that the desire for the thong girl likely would have become rooted and fulfilling as opposed to the diametric opposite within which I am mired at this very second. Realize, of course, that those girls down there with a world-record amount of lines and skin on display are no longer a focal point. They are now a reference, and one I can bring up from time to time as it relates to my fucking head. So, the barren years created not only a stark contrast to places I have been and events I have experienced, but the result is now pushing me to become reckless once again. Unfortunately, the world is no longer available to me or anyone else. My only possible conclusion right now is status quo. God damn that girl is something else. Even with more visual evidence that her midsection is a tad goofy, she is still stirring me like God's wooden spoon. Damn. Thank Christ it's almost time for me to get ready for shopping because if I sit here much longer the result could be... Unpleasant. And the movie is safely tucked away on my recorder, too. Is that a good thing or an obsessive thing? Eh... Who fucking cares anymore? Nothing is going to change my feelings anyway. Not this late in the adventure. The movie is only half over but I must turn it off and get ready to go out. I've seen lots of little images of her which I missed the last time this was on (before Christmas). Part of me is happy to see her all over the place, while the other part is feeling more than a little upset. Another example, another obsessive situation, and just another morning dreaming of places I will never go. Stop. Yes, her again. For good reason I was going to get into the ballgame more, but alas I do not feel it to be a good idea now. Let us just say that a routine has set in (and one of which I dreamed heavily nearly six years ago) which is both wonderful and problematic. A situation... A ballgame with an unknown number of innings. This condition will either carry forward with little to no issue, or explode with enough force to ruin me. I have no fucking idea of which, so right now all I can do is take it second by fucking second. That is all. Few options, to be sure. Just know I am right in the middle of it. Centered. Not as reckless as the Raven period, but close. The atmosphere of the world is far too different now for me to head in such directions. 1-10. I am going to have to shut this off today and roll into another entry. Yesterday really fucked me up, driving all over the place and literally delving into two different past periods which floored me. The contrast was illuminated again... This time very starkly. Up, down, up, then down again. Long drive, and up. Too much. And then I return home and find my life even more detached from where I was during those times. Nearly nothing carried all the way through to the present. Overall, not good for me. The day as summed was a loss. A big one. Now I am feeling worse and considering so many differences between where I was going and that place so many years ago. I did this. I know it. Add the compulsion and emotional turmoil which accompanies living each day in the barren years, and the ballgame becomes important. Unfortunately, it is hurting me as well. I do not have many paths these days. Everything flies through my head and none of it waits for a turn. I was reminded just a few minutes ago of the Raven's appearance while walking away from me. Just a glimpse for a second or three, and then the whole thing reentered my head... From Her appearance that first, fateful afternoon in the office and my head exploding, to the day of the train and Her loving manner while next to me, and then on to dreams of hiding away with that woman forever. We would not have made it far, like all the rest of those who comforted me on high. Time was short, we were insane. We would have destroyed ourselves, although maybe that would have been better than this thing I have turned into." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
The Barren Years and the Ballgame (Black Widow) Mature content No. 202 Published January 10th, 2021 7:05am pst read ( words) Past entries "1-7... More. The beginning was difficult because I would not let go of one in favor of the other. Very tough, those months, although I had been pulled quite a bit in one direction. Fucking tugged. So I went. The feeling is lost... Gone now, and after more than six years. Gone for good. It cannot return due to the changing atmosphere and levels of living. Everything is much too different now as opposed to the quiet time during eleven. Life is vastly contrasting that time in the cave, in fact. Yes, I have all of the crap here which lived in that small space, but the feeling of being here is not the same at all. Those hours I spend alone most days are generally split between productive behavior and concern. I am in a hole born of so many years losing out on what has grown to be the most important aspect of living. So much time passing has damaged my brain in ways I cannot begin to calculate. Obsessive, distracting behavior takes up much of my waking hours, along with dreaming of everything missing. The very idea of this type of arrangement did not arise in my mind, ever. I did not think it possible at all. And I will say the issue has driven me into very dangerous territory on more than a few occasions, not the least of which is the prospect of leaving everyone and everything behind. That type of threat arose several times until I calculated that aside from following through, nothing would change. I still cannot believe this entire period has been reality. I caused loads of damage throughout a very long period of time but figured that feeling the way I do these days is payment. Well, apparently I was wrong. Switch. I'll come back to that shit in a little while. I have not the fortitude to go on much before falling flat on my face. The ballgame is fucking horrible right now. Barren is only good in the desert. Today has been mild for the most part. I took care of some things, published another scathing entry (the bad mood is worsening), and took time for relaxing in front of the show with this machine. I still do not have the house to myself, either. The distractive nature of someone else being here is minimal, though, and I can do as I please. The office progressed a bit, some laundry after changing sheets yesterday, and I still have a few things to care for before the evening arrives. Plenty of time. Very good. I keep thinking about the entries which remain behind a door to which only I have access and I am beginning to believe that flexing such as this may not be a good idea. I mentioned this morning that I may be unfair in displaying titles sans links and filing some entries in a manner inaccessible by anyone else is akin to dangling a carrot never to be reached. Not good, but I felt it and did it anyway. I am angry, and as such tend to do things which make others unhappy. This is all I have. It really is. 1-8. Another day. It feels like I was sitting here with coffee not five minutes ago. Eight days into the new year and seven since the fateful, worthless line in the sand. I am no better, the memories are killing me, the references mentioned here just a day ago are making me angry, yet I still show off a pleasant front to the others. They have no idea I am this bad. Perhaps if they earned the right to hear what I have to say things would be different, both out in the world and inside my head. For the time being, I must keep going in this fashion until something comes along for motivation. I may strike, I may not. Right now I just don't know, but the more little stings and digs which take place are not helping me wait. Nope, I don't care. Unfair is fine. I will continue to be unfair. The years built up in my head to the point of pushing the obsession into the type of territory in which I try to imagine what is out there... What I am seeing. How do they live? I stared for a very long time and a few stood out. The girl on Oak Street, the one on California Street, and then that fucking slew of dimensional passion in the shopping center this last year. Lately I see very little of anything other than the television. But still, I see all those from the past, and at the time (especially when I laid eyes on the Raven in her low-rise jeans and boots with all that flowing black hair) with the obsession at a peak and my desire right on its heels, the imagination went very far. 'How do they live', indeed. What I was picturing ended up causing more difficulty and turmoil with regard to the Raven than I had thought possible. Throughout the barren years I dreamed every single day about all I was not experiencing and turned my senses toward those visions out in the world. Dreamed. And everything hurt me because there was nothing close, nothing available. Well, this new year is now the culmination of all that dreaming and need. Still angry, just a different reason. People close to me are fortunate I am not a violent person. I have no answers. While the truth is I can think too much and go over the same ideas many times and create a worsening situation for myself, I am not to blame for this. Everything related points all the way back so many years but still feels fresh, as if I had been maligned just yesterday. I feel it deeply, and I feel that the time between, those years of the gigantic web being spun and secured, have served not to cement me in place but to cause more frustration and analysis than I care to admit. All the way back to 'Alexis...' I was fucked up. And the week that essay was written I spent here at home, alone. Remember that one? So fucking unclear that no one could possibly get the point, right? I don't care. Read it twenty more times. The point is there was no avenue... Nothing. I closed myself up and relied upon those seldom occasions when I found myself actually treated a small percentage point toward what I needed. Yep, that is all. The essay I mentioned up there was ambiguous for good reason, too. Spelling out some of this would come back to haunt me within minutes. Anyway, that older entry was the first and damned-near only time I addressed such a huge fucking problem. Maybe I should have labeled this 'issue five', although it does predate some of the others. Ah, fuck. I don't know anymore. The fact remains that nothing has changed, I've been driven beyond sense more than once during the intervening years, and there is no long-term solution other than to speak my mind. If I do that? Everyone will walk away from me. That is fine -- mostly -- but there are still attachments I need in this life if I am to continue. Having no avenue has been worsening, meaning my silence has been creating a vast, negative space inside which is very dangerous for both myself and others. I can already see this morning will be tough once I am alone. Just a little while, perhaps an hour, and I have the house to myself for the first time in several days. I must keep everything in mind or I will come out the other side of this day very disappointed. The issues are related. Everything is related, remember? As of this moment I am inside, completely, and as such cannot do much of anything aside from lashing here or demonstrating my dissatisfaction in ways which will put off others. And when I say 'put off', I mean permanently. The fact is I just have to stow it right now. Not easy. Time to think, like always. And now the house is mine for most of the day. Alone is good. No one needs my shit attitude thrown in their direction. I'm going to need to shelve the issues this morning lest I end up in a hole again like Monday. That was not good but didn't last long. Honestly, the pull is just too much at times and I descend quickly. Keeping in mind the aftermath means I have to remain busy after putting this crap to the side and entering the routine. I have things to do, and the passage of time today is very important for my stability. Recalling the recklessness with the Raven and all those trips to the goblet forces me to push harder than usual. I ran my ass off due to being sans fulfillment. The world is so fucked up right now that I can't go anywhere. I just have to stow all the shit until something changes. In order to remain upright and content with myself this morning, I am ignoring all the desire and those faces which send me flying unlike anything in existence. She is out there, somewhere. I know it. Patience. The name 'Jaime' is now synonymous with joy. Just a name, but one which conjures everything imaginable. And imagination is all I have left. After spending the season watching those Goddamned holiday movies and gazing at Brooke, Grace, Torrey... Etc., my head is awash with everything related to eleven and the drastic turns I took to find that comfort. And stating that 'she' is out there is nothing more than an extension of my delusional state. Reality equals discomfort and problems, whereas the dream equals quite the opposite. Just this morning -- very early -- Natalie and Ellie popped into my head and damned-near had me falling to the floor again. Very bad. They were out there, too. I found them. Others? Yep. Several. But right now there is only difficulty. I cannot be specific, however. The realization two nights ago has jaded everything I see, including people. No trust, no true comfort, only snippets of enjoyment here and there, all the while that shit is right behind me, looming. This is the fucking result of the years. My condition is such that something comes across the screen or draws my attention away from everyday life (or reminds me of one of those names above) and then I can't get rid of it no matter the effort. Those moments early in the pandemic in which I stood behind the sofa and had no idea of a direction are nothing when compared to being pulled in a way not easy to deal with. The strongest fucking strain in existence. I can feel it right now. This is bad, and as I said, the result. Years pushed me into very dark territory and when the opportunity arose to find what I needed, I ran, effectively causing one of the most dangerous situations ever. That lesson must be retained lest I do it again. I turned my life upside down for months and nearly did not survive. The ballgame comes to mind. I created it out of all the summed desperation and trouble with my physical self because there was nothing else. That time shines as what could have been the end of me. Sometimes I am ok with the direction, while other times I feel that the slam I could have caused key individuals would have been worth it. Right now I just don't know, but I will say that the years between have shown me little else. Read that again. I am still unsure if any of this is worthwhile. Switchtrack. The glow. Again. I can't stop thinking of that time and all it encompassed. There are pictures in my head, from the other glow -- the Christmas trees in three living rooms -- to the image of looking down to see a pair of light green three-quarter cut bottoms leading up to an exaggerated, narrow waist partially obscured by a mass of blonde hair... Her bra strap dividing fair skin as a line between two ends of wonder. Unreal. There are many differing scenes which I can still see in my head. The glow. The holidays and the manner in which everyone gathered for those times. The theatres, the mall, and the restaurants. The mountains and trips to the casino resort with family. Everything. And? I didn't even fucking know it. I suppose that type of realization is partly to be expected. I am similar to many people and I am certain they look back to sections of life just as I do. For whatever reason -- possibly the barren years and piles of damage I caused during eleven -- the period now appears brighter than ever. Even in the middle of the ballgame when my senses are simultaneously blown up and confused, everything is different. I have to leave part of this out, though. Too much detail will lead to fallout. The last time there was fallout I nearly died. No one wants or needs that any longer. Enough. The Raven. Yep... Her. A very short period of time which does not glow like the earlier part of life. She glows, but the time was bad. Negative space, for sure. I barely made it out of there alive. One of us did not. 1-9. Another day with an inbox full of emails. Unbelievable. I keep trying to pare down the amount of information coming into my account, although some of it is due to me wishing to receive updates and such from certain companies. I don't need everything. And who cares anyway? I have larger concerns right now. In a little while I need to cruise over and pick up the goddess so we can shop for supplies. Her bathroom project is going to move along today. I also need a few things for myself, so a trip to the big box is in order. We will probably have the football games on in the background, too. Very nice. Upon returning here, I will get started on my usual stuff, by that point in the day my work will include a little belated holiday cheer next to the kitchen sink. Also nice. Tomorrow is just football and relaxation. Always the next day there is trouble inside me, and I know not why. I am relaxing this morning with coffee and some television in the background, yet underneath it all my subconscious seems to be driving issue four home like a large hammer. This happens so often that there must be a reason related to either physiology or possibly my mindset. I don't get it though. Quite the pain to sit here and consider options, and trying to write anything cohesive and meaningful is made more difficult due to being partially preoccupied. Well, I decided to put a little something on from the holiday season, and it is the movie with Grace because I have yet to see the whole thing play out. Already? She is amazing, right out of the fucking gate. Seeing her up there will not affect the trouble going on inside, though. She is different. Yes, I said that. I still would love to slather her skin with my tongue, but it's not the same as the others... Bethany, for example. She is similar to many actors on this channel: Fairly young, gorgeous and well-dressed, sweet and kind. It's a Christmas movie, after all, so nothing is very unsettling in the first place. They are cast well. I will need to remain upright throughout the movie and keep the issues swirling inside me from emerging. I just want to see Grace from as many angles as possible right now. Fuck, what a paragraph. Damn, right next to Bethany (who is diminutive), everyone looks tall, but I believe Grace is up there a bit. There is very little information on her out in the world because she is still very young and her career is just beginning, however I have scoured anyway. There is a touch of others in her face, too, like Natalie Portman for one, and the combination makes her appear dreamy. I just hope Grace is not any younger than I have calculated or I will be in trouble. Lots of backlash. I don't need that over an obsession which seems to now be far beyond my control. And I will attempt to rein in my shit before gushing too much. Not very often have I been taken off my feet like this. Sometimes there are very few things out of place, while the rare occasion finds nearly none. sooner or later I will have the movie on this machine so I can extract still images for slathering all over the site. Yes, that will happen. Damn this morning shit, anyway. I'm happy I'll be leaving the house in just over an hour. Sitting here too long will mean disappointment, just like so many years passed. Damn it. Yesterday I made nice and had the fucking wall up in full force. I needed one of those afternoons sitting quietly in front of the show. It was very comfortable and warm, like each occasion. Inside I was all fucked up like always, yet I did not let anything fly for fear of ruining the day. I've done that too many times and have learned to categorize my feelings and only release those which will bring others up rather than so far down. I'm good at that. I have also learned that when I believe I am completely in the right about a subject, the truth is I might not, and that means looking at each facet before spouting off like a madman. I need to put everything into perspective and only say what may help rather than reverting to the harsh nature of which I am the champion. Others have feelings, too. The fact is everything has become difficult and dire because of all those barren years. They have jaded me so badly that each time there is opportunity for true fulfillment, I feel like it's the end of the world and my head reacts accordingly. The wall fell down for a little while for the same reason. I could not help it. Grace's pelvic region reminds me of a woman I know (knew) who is my height and quite thin. Likely one of the most beautiful women I have laid eyes upon in this town over ten years. Yes, really, although her personality leaves a bit to be desired. As far as the physical -- on the outside -- the images are staggeringly gorgeous, both because of her dark, exotic features and her exaggerated height. That is the reason for something slightly off around the midsection. I can't really explain it, but Grace shares that appearance. It might be the style of pants but I can't be certain. This is the first time seeing the movie from the beginning. Bethany is tiny, and her costar (male) is very tall, so ascertaining Grace's fucking height is not easy. Perhaps I should just wait until she is more well-known and look it up. But that midsection is irritating. Her face is another story, though. Even when disconcerted, her expression is adorable and sinister at the same time. So fucking beautiful that I can't stand it sometimes. She doesn't remind me of the woman I know, just the one aspect stood out in a scene as she approached the camera. We are only going to see so much because it is a Hallmark movie after all. I will say that if I had to create levels, Grace is now far above every single other female actor I have seen on this channel in five years. Brooke is parallel, of course. The feelings for that one are dissimilar, you know. Very bad. Ugh... Enough of them. Barren years did much of this. I believe one of the most clarifying statements related to the obsession and what happened to it throughout the last half year or more has been illuminated by my feelings when I see that girl on the screen (or Brooke, similar draw there). It is very simple, as well. The fact is that the barren years drove my desire through the roof and enough to push me into imagining how some women feel about the subjects at hand, along with my basic needs solidifying like never before. I just did not imagine years ago that I would end up in such a position, although here I sit many years later and all fucked up over the relationship between the obsession and the desire. Remember the thong sisters down there in Paradise? That was likely the strongest (albeit belated) draw toward another person in a very long time. The combination was right there before my eyes: The appearance and the need to swallow, ravage, whatever, and here you go... One of them was shaped very similarly to the root cause of my present condition, yet the major difference is knowing that the desire for the thong girl likely would have become rooted and fulfilling as opposed to the diametric opposite within which I am mired at this very second. Realize, of course, that those girls down there with a world-record amount of lines and skin on display are no longer a focal point. They are now a reference, and one I can bring up from time to time as it relates to my fucking head. So, the barren years created not only a stark contrast to places I have been and events I have experienced, but the result is now pushing me to become reckless once again. Unfortunately, the world is no longer available to me or anyone else. My only possible conclusion right now is status quo. God damn that girl is something else. Even with more visual evidence that her midsection is a tad goofy, she is still stirring me like God's wooden spoon. Damn. Thank Christ it's almost time for me to get ready for shopping because if I sit here much longer the result could be... Unpleasant. And the movie is safely tucked away on my recorder, too. Is that a good thing or an obsessive thing? Eh... Who fucking cares anymore? Nothing is going to change my feelings anyway. Not this late in the adventure. The movie is only half over but I must turn it off and get ready to go out. I've seen lots of little images of her which I missed the last time this was on (before Christmas). Part of me is happy to see her all over the place, while the other part is feeling more than a little upset. Another example, another obsessive situation, and just another morning dreaming of places I will never go. Stop. Yes, her again. For good reason I was going to get into the ballgame more, but alas I do not feel it to be a good idea now. Let us just say that a routine has set in (and one of which I dreamed heavily nearly six years ago) which is both wonderful and problematic. A situation... A ballgame with an unknown number of innings. This condition will either carry forward with little to no issue, or explode with enough force to ruin me. I have no fucking idea of which, so right now all I can do is take it second by fucking second. That is all. Few options, to be sure. Just know I am right in the middle of it. Centered. Not as reckless as the Raven period, but close. The atmosphere of the world is far too different now for me to head in such directions. 1-10. I am going to have to shut this off today and roll into another entry. Yesterday really fucked me up, driving all over the place and literally delving into two different past periods which floored me. The contrast was illuminated again... This time very starkly. Up, down, up, then down again. Long drive, and up. Too much. And then I return home and find my life even more detached from where I was during those times. Nearly nothing carried all the way through to the present. Overall, not good for me. The day as summed was a loss. A big one. Now I am feeling worse and considering so many differences between where I was going and that place so many years ago. I did this. I know it. Add the compulsion and emotional turmoil which accompanies living each day in the barren years, and the ballgame becomes important. Unfortunately, it is hurting me as well. I do not have many paths these days. Everything flies through my head and none of it waits for a turn. I was reminded just a few minutes ago of the Raven's appearance while walking away from me. Just a glimpse for a second or three, and then the whole thing reentered my head... From Her appearance that first, fateful afternoon in the office and my head exploding, to the day of the train and Her loving manner while next to me, and then on to dreams of hiding away with that woman forever. We would not have made it far, like all the rest of those who comforted me on high. Time was short, we were insane. We would have destroyed ourselves, although maybe that would have been better than this thing I have turned into."
The Barren Years and the Ballgame
(Black Widow)
Mature content No. 202 Published January 10th, 2021 7:05am pst read ( words) Past entries
"1-7... More. The beginning was difficult because I would not let go of one in favor of the other. Very tough, those months, although I had been pulled quite a bit in one direction. Fucking tugged. So I went. The feeling is lost... Gone now, and after more than six years. Gone for good. It cannot return due to the changing atmosphere and levels of living. Everything is much too different now as opposed to the quiet time during eleven. Life is vastly contrasting that time in the cave, in fact. Yes, I have all of the crap here which lived in that small space, but the feeling of being here is not the same at all. Those hours I spend alone most days are generally split between productive behavior and concern. I am in a hole born of so many years losing out on what has grown to be the most important aspect of living. So much time passing has damaged my brain in ways I cannot begin to calculate. Obsessive, distracting behavior takes up much of my waking hours, along with dreaming of everything missing. The very idea of this type of arrangement did not arise in my mind, ever. I did not think it possible at all. And I will say the issue has driven me into very dangerous territory on more than a few occasions, not the least of which is the prospect of leaving everyone and everything behind. That type of threat arose several times until I calculated that aside from following through, nothing would change. I still cannot believe this entire period has been reality. I caused loads of damage throughout a very long period of time but figured that feeling the way I do these days is payment. Well, apparently I was wrong. Switch. I'll come back to that shit in a little while. I have not the fortitude to go on much before falling flat on my face. The ballgame is fucking horrible right now. Barren is only good in the desert. Today has been mild for the most part. I took care of some things, published another scathing entry (the bad mood is worsening), and took time for relaxing in front of the show with this machine. I still do not have the house to myself, either. The distractive nature of someone else being here is minimal, though, and I can do as I please. The office progressed a bit, some laundry after changing sheets yesterday, and I still have a few things to care for before the evening arrives. Plenty of time. Very good. I keep thinking about the entries which remain behind a door to which only I have access and I am beginning to believe that flexing such as this may not be a good idea. I mentioned this morning that I may be unfair in displaying titles sans links and filing some entries in a manner inaccessible by anyone else is akin to dangling a carrot never to be reached. Not good, but I felt it and did it anyway. I am angry, and as such tend to do things which make others unhappy. This is all I have. It really is. 1-8. Another day. It feels like I was sitting here with coffee not five minutes ago. Eight days into the new year and seven since the fateful, worthless line in the sand. I am no better, the memories are killing me, the references mentioned here just a day ago are making me angry, yet I still show off a pleasant front to the others. They have no idea I am this bad. Perhaps if they earned the right to hear what I have to say things would be different, both out in the world and inside my head. For the time being, I must keep going in this fashion until something comes along for motivation. I may strike, I may not. Right now I just don't know, but the more little stings and digs which take place are not helping me wait. Nope, I don't care. Unfair is fine. I will continue to be unfair. The years built up in my head to the point of pushing the obsession into the type of territory in which I try to imagine what is out there... What I am seeing. How do they live? I stared for a very long time and a few stood out. The girl on Oak Street, the one on California Street, and then that fucking slew of dimensional passion in the shopping center this last year. Lately I see very little of anything other than the television. But still, I see all those from the past, and at the time (especially when I laid eyes on the Raven in her low-rise jeans and boots with all that flowing black hair) with the obsession at a peak and my desire right on its heels, the imagination went very far. 'How do they live', indeed. What I was picturing ended up causing more difficulty and turmoil with regard to the Raven than I had thought possible. Throughout the barren years I dreamed every single day about all I was not experiencing and turned my senses toward those visions out in the world. Dreamed. And everything hurt me because there was nothing close, nothing available. Well, this new year is now the culmination of all that dreaming and need. Still angry, just a different reason. People close to me are fortunate I am not a violent person.
I have no answers. While the truth is I can think too much and go over the same ideas many times and create a worsening situation for myself, I am not to blame for this. Everything related points all the way back so many years but still feels fresh, as if I had been maligned just yesterday. I feel it deeply, and I feel that the time between, those years of the gigantic web being spun and secured, have served not to cement me in place but to cause more frustration and analysis than I care to admit. All the way back to 'Alexis...' I was fucked up. And the week that essay was written I spent here at home, alone. Remember that one? So fucking unclear that no one could possibly get the point, right? I don't care. Read it twenty more times. The point is there was no avenue... Nothing. I closed myself up and relied upon those seldom occasions when I found myself actually treated a small percentage point toward what I needed. Yep, that is all. The essay I mentioned up there was ambiguous for good reason, too. Spelling out some of this would come back to haunt me within minutes. Anyway, that older entry was the first and damned-near only time I addressed such a huge fucking problem. Maybe I should have labeled this 'issue five', although it does predate some of the others. Ah, fuck. I don't know anymore. The fact remains that nothing has changed, I've been driven beyond sense more than once during the intervening years, and there is no long-term solution other than to speak my mind. If I do that? Everyone will walk away from me. That is fine -- mostly -- but there are still attachments I need in this life if I am to continue. Having no avenue has been worsening, meaning my silence has been creating a vast, negative space inside which is very dangerous for both myself and others. I can already see this morning will be tough once I am alone. Just a little while, perhaps an hour, and I have the house to myself for the first time in several days. I must keep everything in mind or I will come out the other side of this day very disappointed. The issues are related. Everything is related, remember? As of this moment I am inside, completely, and as such cannot do much of anything aside from lashing here or demonstrating my dissatisfaction in ways which will put off others. And when I say 'put off', I mean permanently. The fact is I just have to stow it right now. Not easy. Time to think, like always. And now the house is mine for most of the day. Alone is good. No one needs my shit attitude thrown in their direction. I'm going to need to shelve the issues this morning lest I end up in a hole again like Monday. That was not good but didn't last long. Honestly, the pull is just too much at times and I descend quickly. Keeping in mind the aftermath means I have to remain busy after putting this crap to the side and entering the routine. I have things to do, and the passage of time today is very important for my stability. Recalling the recklessness with the Raven and all those trips to the goblet forces me to push harder than usual. I ran my ass off due to being sans fulfillment. The world is so fucked up right now that I can't go anywhere. I just have to stow all the shit until something changes. In order to remain upright and content with myself this morning, I am ignoring all the desire and those faces which send me flying unlike anything in existence. She is out there, somewhere. I know it. Patience. The name 'Jaime' is now synonymous with joy. Just a name, but one which conjures everything imaginable. And imagination is all I have left. After spending the season watching those Goddamned holiday movies and gazing at Brooke, Grace, Torrey... Etc., my head is awash with everything related to eleven and the drastic turns I took to find that comfort. And stating that 'she' is out there is nothing more than an extension of my delusional state. Reality equals discomfort and problems, whereas the dream equals quite the opposite. Just this morning -- very early -- Natalie and Ellie popped into my head and damned-near had me falling to the floor again. Very bad. They were out there, too. I found them. Others? Yep. Several. But right now there is only difficulty. I cannot be specific, however. The realization two nights ago has jaded everything I see, including people. No trust, no true comfort, only snippets of enjoyment here and there, all the while that shit is right behind me, looming. This is the fucking result of the years. My condition is such that something comes across the screen or draws my attention away from everyday life (or reminds me of one of those names above) and then I can't get rid of it no matter the effort. Those moments early in the pandemic in which I stood behind the sofa and had no idea of a direction are nothing when compared to being pulled in a way not easy to deal with. The strongest fucking strain in existence. I can feel it right now. This is bad, and as I said, the result. Years pushed me into very dark territory and when the opportunity arose to find what I needed, I ran, effectively causing one of the most dangerous situations ever. That lesson must be retained lest I do it again. I turned my life upside down for months and nearly did not survive. The ballgame comes to mind. I created it out of all the summed desperation and trouble with my physical self because there was nothing else. That time shines as what could have been the end of me. Sometimes I am ok with the direction, while other times I feel that the slam I could have caused key individuals would have been worth it. Right now I just don't know, but I will say that the years between have shown me little else. Read that again. I am still unsure if any of this is worthwhile.
Switchtrack. The glow. Again. I can't stop thinking of that time and all it encompassed. There are pictures in my head, from the other glow -- the Christmas trees in three living rooms -- to the image of looking down to see a pair of light green three-quarter cut bottoms leading up to an exaggerated, narrow waist partially obscured by a mass of blonde hair... Her bra strap dividing fair skin as a line between two ends of wonder. Unreal. There are many differing scenes which I can still see in my head. The glow. The holidays and the manner in which everyone gathered for those times. The theatres, the mall, and the restaurants. The mountains and trips to the casino resort with family. Everything. And? I didn't even fucking know it. I suppose that type of realization is partly to be expected. I am similar to many people and I am certain they look back to sections of life just as I do. For whatever reason -- possibly the barren years and piles of damage I caused during eleven -- the period now appears brighter than ever. Even in the middle of the ballgame when my senses are simultaneously blown up and confused, everything is different. I have to leave part of this out, though. Too much detail will lead to fallout. The last time there was fallout I nearly died. No one wants or needs that any longer. Enough. The Raven. Yep... Her. A very short period of time which does not glow like the earlier part of life. She glows, but the time was bad. Negative space, for sure. I barely made it out of there alive. One of us did not. 1-9. Another day with an inbox full of emails. Unbelievable. I keep trying to pare down the amount of information coming into my account, although some of it is due to me wishing to receive updates and such from certain companies. I don't need everything. And who cares anyway? I have larger concerns right now. In a little while I need to cruise over and pick up the goddess so we can shop for supplies. Her bathroom project is going to move along today. I also need a few things for myself, so a trip to the big box is in order. We will probably have the football games on in the background, too. Very nice. Upon returning here, I will get started on my usual stuff, by that point in the day my work will include a little belated holiday cheer next to the kitchen sink. Also nice. Tomorrow is just football and relaxation. Always the next day there is trouble inside me, and I know not why. I am relaxing this morning with coffee and some television in the background, yet underneath it all my subconscious seems to be driving issue four home like a large hammer. This happens so often that there must be a reason related to either physiology or possibly my mindset. I don't get it though. Quite the pain to sit here and consider options, and trying to write anything cohesive and meaningful is made more difficult due to being partially preoccupied. Well, I decided to put a little something on from the holiday season, and it is the movie with Grace because I have yet to see the whole thing play out. Already? She is amazing, right out of the fucking gate. Seeing her up there will not affect the trouble going on inside, though. She is different. Yes, I said that. I still would love to slather her skin with my tongue, but it's not the same as the others... Bethany, for example. She is similar to many actors on this channel: Fairly young, gorgeous and well-dressed, sweet and kind. It's a Christmas movie, after all, so nothing is very unsettling in the first place. They are cast well. I will need to remain upright throughout the movie and keep the issues swirling inside me from emerging. I just want to see Grace from as many angles as possible right now. Fuck, what a paragraph. Damn, right next to Bethany (who is diminutive), everyone looks tall, but I believe Grace is up there a bit. There is very little information on her out in the world because she is still very young and her career is just beginning, however I have scoured anyway. There is a touch of others in her face, too, like Natalie Portman for one, and the combination makes her appear dreamy. I just hope Grace is not any younger than I have calculated or I will be in trouble. Lots of backlash. I don't need that over an obsession which seems to now be far beyond my control. And I will attempt to rein in my shit before gushing too much. Not very often have I been taken off my feet like this. Sometimes there are very few things out of place, while the rare occasion finds nearly none. sooner or later I will have the movie on this machine so I can extract still images for slathering all over the site. Yes, that will happen.
Damn this morning shit, anyway. I'm happy I'll be leaving the house in just over an hour. Sitting here too long will mean disappointment, just like so many years passed. Damn it. Yesterday I made nice and had the fucking wall up in full force. I needed one of those afternoons sitting quietly in front of the show. It was very comfortable and warm, like each occasion. Inside I was all fucked up like always, yet I did not let anything fly for fear of ruining the day. I've done that too many times and have learned to categorize my feelings and only release those which will bring others up rather than so far down. I'm good at that. I have also learned that when I believe I am completely in the right about a subject, the truth is I might not, and that means looking at each facet before spouting off like a madman. I need to put everything into perspective and only say what may help rather than reverting to the harsh nature of which I am the champion. Others have feelings, too. The fact is everything has become difficult and dire because of all those barren years. They have jaded me so badly that each time there is opportunity for true fulfillment, I feel like it's the end of the world and my head reacts accordingly. The wall fell down for a little while for the same reason. I could not help it. Grace's pelvic region reminds me of a woman I know (knew) who is my height and quite thin. Likely one of the most beautiful women I have laid eyes upon in this town over ten years. Yes, really, although her personality leaves a bit to be desired. As far as the physical -- on the outside -- the images are staggeringly gorgeous, both because of her dark, exotic features and her exaggerated height. That is the reason for something slightly off around the midsection. I can't really explain it, but Grace shares that appearance. It might be the style of pants but I can't be certain. This is the first time seeing the movie from the beginning. Bethany is tiny, and her costar (male) is very tall, so ascertaining Grace's fucking height is not easy. Perhaps I should just wait until she is more well-known and look it up. But that midsection is irritating. Her face is another story, though. Even when disconcerted, her expression is adorable and sinister at the same time. So fucking beautiful that I can't stand it sometimes. She doesn't remind me of the woman I know, just the one aspect stood out in a scene as she approached the camera. We are only going to see so much because it is a Hallmark movie after all. I will say that if I had to create levels, Grace is now far above every single other female actor I have seen on this channel in five years. Brooke is parallel, of course. The feelings for that one are dissimilar, you know. Very bad. Ugh... Enough of them. Barren years did much of this. I believe one of the most clarifying statements related to the obsession and what happened to it throughout the last half year or more has been illuminated by my feelings when I see that girl on the screen (or Brooke, similar draw there). It is very simple, as well. The fact is that the barren years drove my desire through the roof and enough to push me into imagining how some women feel about the subjects at hand, along with my basic needs solidifying like never before. I just did not imagine years ago that I would end up in such a position, although here I sit many years later and all fucked up over the relationship between the obsession and the desire. Remember the thong sisters down there in Paradise? That was likely the strongest (albeit belated) draw toward another person in a very long time. The combination was right there before my eyes: The appearance and the need to swallow, ravage, whatever, and here you go... One of them was shaped very similarly to the root cause of my present condition, yet the major difference is knowing that the desire for the thong girl likely would have become rooted and fulfilling as opposed to the diametric opposite within which I am mired at this very second. Realize, of course, that those girls down there with a world-record amount of lines and skin on display are no longer a focal point. They are now a reference, and one I can bring up from time to time as it relates to my fucking head. So, the barren years created not only a stark contrast to places I have been and events I have experienced, but the result is now pushing me to become reckless once again. Unfortunately, the world is no longer available to me or anyone else. My only possible conclusion right now is status quo. God damn that girl is something else. Even with more visual evidence that her midsection is a tad goofy, she is still stirring me like God's wooden spoon. Damn. Thank Christ it's almost time for me to get ready for shopping because if I sit here much longer the result could be... Unpleasant. And the movie is safely tucked away on my recorder, too. Is that a good thing or an obsessive thing? Eh... Who fucking cares anymore? Nothing is going to change my feelings anyway. Not this late in the adventure. The movie is only half over but I must turn it off and get ready to go out. I've seen lots of little images of her which I missed the last time this was on (before Christmas). Part of me is happy to see her all over the place, while the other part is feeling more than a little upset. Another example, another obsessive situation, and just another morning dreaming of places I will never go. Stop.
Yes, her again. For good reason
I was going to get into the ballgame more, but alas I do not feel it to be a good idea now. Let us just say that a routine has set in (and one of which I dreamed heavily nearly six years ago) which is both wonderful and problematic. A situation... A ballgame with an unknown number of innings. This condition will either carry forward with little to no issue, or explode with enough force to ruin me. I have no fucking idea of which, so right now all I can do is take it second by fucking second. That is all. Few options, to be sure. Just know I am right in the middle of it. Centered. Not as reckless as the Raven period, but close. The atmosphere of the world is far too different now for me to head in such directions. 1-10. I am going to have to shut this off today and roll into another entry. Yesterday really fucked me up, driving all over the place and literally delving into two different past periods which floored me. The contrast was illuminated again... This time very starkly. Up, down, up, then down again. Long drive, and up. Too much. And then I return home and find my life even more detached from where I was during those times. Nearly nothing carried all the way through to the present. Overall, not good for me. The day as summed was a loss. A big one. Now I am feeling worse and considering so many differences between where I was going and that place so many years ago. I did this. I know it. Add the compulsion and emotional turmoil which accompanies living each day in the barren years, and the ballgame becomes important. Unfortunately, it is hurting me as well. I do not have many paths these days. Everything flies through my head and none of it waits for a turn. I was reminded just a few minutes ago of the Raven's appearance while walking away from me. Just a glimpse for a second or three, and then the whole thing reentered my head... From Her appearance that first, fateful afternoon in the office and my head exploding, to the day of the train and Her loving manner while next to me, and then on to dreams of hiding away with that woman forever. We would not have made it far, like all the rest of those who comforted me on high. Time was short, we were insane. We would have destroyed ourselves, although maybe that would have been better than this thing I have turned into."
Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
legal
about
archive
home
