Sharon's Chair Mature content No. 266 Published September 30th, 2021 10:00am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Losing it. A little at a time, but it's all going away. Loss. Morning again. The usual... Thought leading to depression. I can only sit here and wonder, want, need, reject, and then the day moves along and I win nothing. I lose. Just like yesterday. Again tomorrow. Nothing changes. I dreamed of a family who set their house on fire for some reason. They were nearly nonchalant about it, too. I tried to help get some things out in time but they were not in that much of a hurry. And then a woman in some parking lot who wanted to be with me. I was in a relationship and she told me to get rid of it so we could be together. A very sensual kiss and she entered her vehicle and left the strip mall. She now seems familiar, like someone I actually know either in person or a character on the television. She was frighteningly fit and very small, as if the Demi from 'Disclosure' was shortened by half a foot and then made cute. I left the area with my companion (no clue as to who he was, but I got the impression it was a friend from my younger years) and headed across the parking lot. The girl had directed me to something I needed which was put away in a salon she owned. And then we were in the salon and she was giving me a spare key along with the alarm code so I could return later and fetch my item. After that I was trying to get across the parking lot on a skateboard. I went back to the salon trying to recall the code and noticed I did not need it or the key because the door was open. I entered, saw Hoyt sitting in the bathtub (noticably depressed, just like one point in the show) and went to grab my stuff. His phone alarm was going off and I could not stop it. That very second I realized it was my alarm and I awakened. Sharon's chair was there for me. I don't know why that guy burned his house. It was huge and really cool. Dated, but I've always appreciated such a look. Whatever. The morning is no different after that strange dream. I am sitting like any other day and wondering why I am still doing this. Typing? No, not typing. Anything. I should have known something was different yesterday. There was suspicion for a time, though. I knew something was amiss, but then later I talked myself out of it. Now? I'm not so certain anymore. This morning will probably not head in such a direction, yet I cannot help but consider the last few months and their toll upon my well-being. This is the type of thing that can destroy me in a matter of weeks. I stopped the countdown months ago, although now I am seeing more reason for such a line than I was in the beginning of the year. I simply can't have this or there will be no more trying. The modifications to my table are finished, mostly. I may yet do more, but the basic shape and saw cabinet are done. I even ran some sandpaper along the edges so it is smoother. That action resulted in a splinter buried in my fingertip which now feels infected. Splendid. Didn't need that shit. Anyway, I was out there for hours yesterday and still cared for the routine. Under fifty degrees outside this morning. First time since last spring. Yikes. Sharon's chair was there for me. I don't know what to do now. The floodwork served its purpose yesterday but I don't feel as good about it as I had expected. Something else has to happen or I'm going to lose my shit, not just my mind. Not happy. Spitting image of Andrea I spouted tons of crap and repeated lines all over the place for a long time. Now I don't think my reasoning was enough. I tried, though. No more of that. Some entries now appear ridiculous to me. Today has to be better. No more of that shit feeling; sitting here and not knowing which way to turn. Like my friend Tony said, 'I hate this fuckin' shit!!'. I can sympathize. The mornings are not a big deal other than the typical worry over what to do, but even that is tempered by being comfortable and having the space to consider everything in good time. Later in the day things are different, as if I need to have specific shit finished or something similar. I don't get it at all. The sun is shining already. My sun never appears. Losing. Lost? Loss. Finger hurts. Hard to type. Yard looks nice with leaves all over. No rhyme this time. Maybe all those things I did and all those places I traveled have ruined me. Sharon's chair was there for me. This is better than eleven when the tiniest straw would break me in half. I am much stronger than that now, plus being angry and directing it toward the correct targets really helps me maintain focus. Little steps, little things, a little at a time. I may still lose my shit, though. Some lines are traversed with the throttle lock untouched. Roll over them like so many coins, flattened and shot at terminal speed out into the world. Spit, if you will. The floodwork may not be the answer. I believe the attitude is key right now. Yesterday really showed me that I'm capable after all these years, meaning I'm not worried about whatever physical shit needs to be completed. 'Thy will be done'. The fact is what goes on inside and the effects of other people upon my psyche are the real engineers of this trip. The train of life was more like the train of my mood, whereas this shit is the actual train. Rolling along, partially beyond my control and railed like any other locomotive, yet still with options left after all this time. Nora, Eric, Tara below... Something I can never have (not the song) Ooh-fa. She is so fucking cute. Silvio: 'Fuck it. Let's all have a drink.' Don't tempt me just after eight in the morning. Losing my shit, honestly. Without my expressions, they would still be there cackling like the crows in the front yard. Expressions help and keep things quiet. If not, anger ensues. And then everything goes to hell in mere seconds. Once my head hits a switchtrack, there is no return. I will continue expressing, they will continue speaking. Nothing can change. Sharon's chair was there for me. I recently put the kibosh to the LDS missionaries with a hammer blow via text. Just ambiguous enough so that they cannot understand, yet with a few choice words thrown in to get the point across. After that? Platitudes, offers of help and sympathy. Yep, I slammed that door in a fucking hurry. After the first conversation, my eyes were opened a bit and I listened intently. I was asked to share, and being this far along in life has yielded a ton of theological and divine knowledge, both from education and gleaning over the years. As such, my answer blew their skirts up over their heads and revealed the fact that I was nothing more than a number to both of them. Yes, I realize that sounds cold, but the truth is they were here to recruit, period. So, that is that. Shut down and alienated for good. Next time perhaps the JWs will come along and receive something similar. I can snow anyone, anytime, so beware. I mentioned before that this endeavor represents my only semblance of control. Well, the meeting with the LDS helped motivate me to state that there is indeed another... A big one... No one knows who I am and never will. I can't have that. Too damaging. Period. Soon... Today. I have things to do, as usual, but more than that. Certain areas which have gone untouched for a long time need to be addressed, not the least of which are my thoughts. Not everything, but a little in order to continue the forward motion which began yesterday. There was a chair, too. The realization regarding my obsession is not good. It is hindering my ability to rise and feel like a whole grown-up type of person, just as Charlene said. But I don't know if I can deal with it anymore. Years ago I did not fully understand the feelings and now I am seeing something bad coming out the other side of knowing from where it originated. No, not the car dealer. I think it was the server at the bar in Pleasanton, and on the heels of that was my neighbor. The idea is also rolled up with something Ashley said years later, soon being all neatened and tied with a bow. She was unique, however. The sum is bad for me because it is elusive enough that the entire shitaree may as well be another impossible dream. I will not let it go, though, because the anger toward knowing it is out there but unattainable can help me keep everything else in perspective. Yes, I said that. Vincent said his angst kept him sharp; on the edge. Mine serves to keep the vast chasm between myself and everyone else very wide and constantly visible. I realized what I had been feeling and now the desire has pushed me to distance myself from people out of self-preservation. Sharon's chair is waiting. Sharon is absent. She can't help anymore, though. Just the chair. I sat in that chair way back in zero-three after returning from Nevada and one of the most destructive periods of my life. Sharon spoke, I listened. Now she is gone but the image of that chair remains. She told me I should have been studying philosophy. A few weeks later she referred to me as a philosopher. Before I met Sharon and sat there, Ashley referred to me as unique, special, and unlike anyone she had ever known. Sharon said the same not long after. I listened, always. I do not believe my head became granite until much later in life. Maybe I was as they said. What the fuck am I these days? Too many questions. My world was simpler when this took priority Above was the reason for my being so fucked up for six-plus years and placing all the information here. I don't see it in a similar light now, though. I am still fucked up, just in a different way. There was a woman who stood above me and told me I am a person, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. She was beautiful and looked like the image up there. She was also the FIRST representation of a woman over whom I obsessed and one who would do anything I wished. I asked that She become a project and She immediately agreed. But it never happened. At that time I did not know where my interest was going to lead. Now I do. This is not good... Not by a damned sight. And when that woman stood there with a bottle of wine in Her hand, all I could think about was grabbing all of Her and shoving that lithe body into my mouth forever. More anger, less reason. All of this has been on my mind for a long time. The situations which arose and then disappeared have been filed and studied for the same duration. I've mentioned the examples enough, too. There is no reason to go into detail because it is both tiring and unnecessary anymore. I believe I should have gone into such subjects while in the chair, however. That was the time to strike. Enough has taken place since then to force me into believing I cannot do it anymore. Too scary. All I have is this crap. The years have taken their toll, believe me. Sharon's chair was there for me. Maria and her big, bright eyes resembles someone I know personally, and a woman I've been frightened of for several years. She represents the exact opposite of those with whom I have been close. I will never understand her type of personality or mindset, not to mention her interaction with her own husband. He is a fucking great guy and someone I have grown to love over a very long period, yet the other half of the relationship is a complete mystery. She can be menacing. She can also be very tender. Beautiful? Holy fuck, yes... Like beyond a typed description. The woman is stunning from any angle, slender yet curvy, and my height precisely. But the beauty is not the reason for her being scary. Honestly, I cannot go into it here for fear of backlash, but suffice to say that I keep my distance while in her company at a social gathering (extremely rare now, anyway). Maria's character appears similar physically, but inside she is amazingly sweet and kind. The line between those two women could not be thicker. Just saying. And yes, I wish I could spell it out because there may be someone out there who understands. My loss. Another fucking loss. They are piling up. The chair was there for removing losses but I gave it up. Sharon's chair was there for me. The chair is gone. Sharon -- Dr. Sharon, to be precise -- remains, but I cannot speak with her any longer. I have larger issues right now than I thought a mere day ago." 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Sharon's Chair Mature content No. 266 Published September 30th, 2021 10:00am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Losing it. A little at a time, but it's all going away. Loss. Morning again. The usual... Thought leading to depression. I can only sit here and wonder, want, need, reject, and then the day moves along and I win nothing. I lose. Just like yesterday. Again tomorrow. Nothing changes. I dreamed of a family who set their house on fire for some reason. They were nearly nonchalant about it, too. I tried to help get some things out in time but they were not in that much of a hurry. And then a woman in some parking lot who wanted to be with me. I was in a relationship and she told me to get rid of it so we could be together. A very sensual kiss and she entered her vehicle and left the strip mall. She now seems familiar, like someone I actually know either in person or a character on the television. She was frighteningly fit and very small, as if the Demi from 'Disclosure' was shortened by half a foot and then made cute. I left the area with my companion (no clue as to who he was, but I got the impression it was a friend from my younger years) and headed across the parking lot. The girl had directed me to something I needed which was put away in a salon she owned. And then we were in the salon and she was giving me a spare key along with the alarm code so I could return later and fetch my item. After that I was trying to get across the parking lot on a skateboard. I went back to the salon trying to recall the code and noticed I did not need it or the key because the door was open. I entered, saw Hoyt sitting in the bathtub (noticably depressed, just like one point in the show) and went to grab my stuff. His phone alarm was going off and I could not stop it. That very second I realized it was my alarm and I awakened. Sharon's chair was there for me. I don't know why that guy burned his house. It was huge and really cool. Dated, but I've always appreciated such a look. Whatever. The morning is no different after that strange dream. I am sitting like any other day and wondering why I am still doing this. Typing? No, not typing. Anything. I should have known something was different yesterday. There was suspicion for a time, though. I knew something was amiss, but then later I talked myself out of it. Now? I'm not so certain anymore. This morning will probably not head in such a direction, yet I cannot help but consider the last few months and their toll upon my well-being. This is the type of thing that can destroy me in a matter of weeks. I stopped the countdown months ago, although now I am seeing more reason for such a line than I was in the beginning of the year. I simply can't have this or there will be no more trying. The modifications to my table are finished, mostly. I may yet do more, but the basic shape and saw cabinet are done. I even ran some sandpaper along the edges so it is smoother. That action resulted in a splinter buried in my fingertip which now feels infected. Splendid. Didn't need that shit. Anyway, I was out there for hours yesterday and still cared for the routine. Under fifty degrees outside this morning. First time since last spring. Yikes. Sharon's chair was there for me. I don't know what to do now. The floodwork served its purpose yesterday but I don't feel as good about it as I had expected. Something else has to happen or I'm going to lose my shit, not just my mind. Not happy. Spitting image of Andrea I spouted tons of crap and repeated lines all over the place for a long time. Now I don't think my reasoning was enough. I tried, though. No more of that. Some entries now appear ridiculous to me. Today has to be better. No more of that shit feeling; sitting here and not knowing which way to turn. Like my friend Tony said, 'I hate this fuckin' shit!!'. I can sympathize. The mornings are not a big deal other than the typical worry over what to do, but even that is tempered by being comfortable and having the space to consider everything in good time. Later in the day things are different, as if I need to have specific shit finished or something similar. I don't get it at all. The sun is shining already. My sun never appears. Losing. Lost? Loss. Finger hurts. Hard to type. Yard looks nice with leaves all over. No rhyme this time. Maybe all those things I did and all those places I traveled have ruined me. Sharon's chair was there for me. This is better than eleven when the tiniest straw would break me in half. I am much stronger than that now, plus being angry and directing it toward the correct targets really helps me maintain focus. Little steps, little things, a little at a time. I may still lose my shit, though. Some lines are traversed with the throttle lock untouched. Roll over them like so many coins, flattened and shot at terminal speed out into the world. Spit, if you will. The floodwork may not be the answer. I believe the attitude is key right now. Yesterday really showed me that I'm capable after all these years, meaning I'm not worried about whatever physical shit needs to be completed. 'Thy will be done'. The fact is what goes on inside and the effects of other people upon my psyche are the real engineers of this trip. The train of life was more like the train of my mood, whereas this shit is the actual train. Rolling along, partially beyond my control and railed like any other locomotive, yet still with options left after all this time. Nora, Eric, Tara below... Something I can never have (not the song) Ooh-fa. She is so fucking cute. Silvio: 'Fuck it. Let's all have a drink.' Don't tempt me just after eight in the morning. Losing my shit, honestly. Without my expressions, they would still be there cackling like the crows in the front yard. Expressions help and keep things quiet. If not, anger ensues. And then everything goes to hell in mere seconds. Once my head hits a switchtrack, there is no return. I will continue expressing, they will continue speaking. Nothing can change. Sharon's chair was there for me. I recently put the kibosh to the LDS missionaries with a hammer blow via text. Just ambiguous enough so that they cannot understand, yet with a few choice words thrown in to get the point across. After that? Platitudes, offers of help and sympathy. Yep, I slammed that door in a fucking hurry. After the first conversation, my eyes were opened a bit and I listened intently. I was asked to share, and being this far along in life has yielded a ton of theological and divine knowledge, both from education and gleaning over the years. As such, my answer blew their skirts up over their heads and revealed the fact that I was nothing more than a number to both of them. Yes, I realize that sounds cold, but the truth is they were here to recruit, period. So, that is that. Shut down and alienated for good. Next time perhaps the JWs will come along and receive something similar. I can snow anyone, anytime, so beware. I mentioned before that this endeavor represents my only semblance of control. Well, the meeting with the LDS helped motivate me to state that there is indeed another... A big one... No one knows who I am and never will. I can't have that. Too damaging. Period. Soon... Today. I have things to do, as usual, but more than that. Certain areas which have gone untouched for a long time need to be addressed, not the least of which are my thoughts. Not everything, but a little in order to continue the forward motion which began yesterday. There was a chair, too. The realization regarding my obsession is not good. It is hindering my ability to rise and feel like a whole grown-up type of person, just as Charlene said. But I don't know if I can deal with it anymore. Years ago I did not fully understand the feelings and now I am seeing something bad coming out the other side of knowing from where it originated. No, not the car dealer. I think it was the server at the bar in Pleasanton, and on the heels of that was my neighbor. The idea is also rolled up with something Ashley said years later, soon being all neatened and tied with a bow. She was unique, however. The sum is bad for me because it is elusive enough that the entire shitaree may as well be another impossible dream. I will not let it go, though, because the anger toward knowing it is out there but unattainable can help me keep everything else in perspective. Yes, I said that. Vincent said his angst kept him sharp; on the edge. Mine serves to keep the vast chasm between myself and everyone else very wide and constantly visible. I realized what I had been feeling and now the desire has pushed me to distance myself from people out of self-preservation. Sharon's chair is waiting. Sharon is absent. She can't help anymore, though. Just the chair. I sat in that chair way back in zero-three after returning from Nevada and one of the most destructive periods of my life. Sharon spoke, I listened. Now she is gone but the image of that chair remains. She told me I should have been studying philosophy. A few weeks later she referred to me as a philosopher. Before I met Sharon and sat there, Ashley referred to me as unique, special, and unlike anyone she had ever known. Sharon said the same not long after. I listened, always. I do not believe my head became granite until much later in life. Maybe I was as they said. What the fuck am I these days? Too many questions. My world was simpler when this took priority Above was the reason for my being so fucked up for six-plus years and placing all the information here. I don't see it in a similar light now, though. I am still fucked up, just in a different way. There was a woman who stood above me and told me I am a person, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. She was beautiful and looked like the image up there. She was also the FIRST representation of a woman over whom I obsessed and one who would do anything I wished. I asked that She become a project and She immediately agreed. But it never happened. At that time I did not know where my interest was going to lead. Now I do. This is not good... Not by a damned sight. And when that woman stood there with a bottle of wine in Her hand, all I could think about was grabbing all of Her and shoving that lithe body into my mouth forever. More anger, less reason. All of this has been on my mind for a long time. The situations which arose and then disappeared have been filed and studied for the same duration. I've mentioned the examples enough, too. There is no reason to go into detail because it is both tiring and unnecessary anymore. I believe I should have gone into such subjects while in the chair, however. That was the time to strike. Enough has taken place since then to force me into believing I cannot do it anymore. Too scary. All I have is this crap. The years have taken their toll, believe me. Sharon's chair was there for me. Maria and her big, bright eyes resembles someone I know personally, and a woman I've been frightened of for several years. She represents the exact opposite of those with whom I have been close. I will never understand her type of personality or mindset, not to mention her interaction with her own husband. He is a fucking great guy and someone I have grown to love over a very long period, yet the other half of the relationship is a complete mystery. She can be menacing. She can also be very tender. Beautiful? Holy fuck, yes... Like beyond a typed description. The woman is stunning from any angle, slender yet curvy, and my height precisely. But the beauty is not the reason for her being scary. Honestly, I cannot go into it here for fear of backlash, but suffice to say that I keep my distance while in her company at a social gathering (extremely rare now, anyway). Maria's character appears similar physically, but inside she is amazingly sweet and kind. The line between those two women could not be thicker. Just saying. And yes, I wish I could spell it out because there may be someone out there who understands. My loss. Another fucking loss. They are piling up. The chair was there for removing losses but I gave it up. Sharon's chair was there for me. The chair is gone. Sharon -- Dr. Sharon, to be precise -- remains, but I cannot speak with her any longer. I have larger issues right now than I thought a mere day ago."
Sharon's Chair
Mature content No. 266 Published September 30th, 2021 10:00am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Losing it. A little at a time, but it's all going away. Loss. Morning again. The usual... Thought leading to depression. I can only sit here and wonder, want, need, reject, and then the day moves along and I win nothing. I lose. Just like yesterday. Again tomorrow. Nothing changes. I dreamed of a family who set their house on fire for some reason. They were nearly nonchalant about it, too. I tried to help get some things out in time but they were not in that much of a hurry. And then a woman in some parking lot who wanted to be with me. I was in a relationship and she told me to get rid of it so we could be together. A very sensual kiss and she entered her vehicle and left the strip mall. She now seems familiar, like someone I actually know either in person or a character on the television. She was frighteningly fit and very small, as if the Demi from 'Disclosure' was shortened by half a foot and then made cute. I left the area with my companion (no clue as to who he was, but I got the impression it was a friend from my younger years) and headed across the parking lot. The girl had directed me to something I needed which was put away in a salon she owned. And then we were in the salon and she was giving me a spare key along with the alarm code so I could return later and fetch my item. After that I was trying to get across the parking lot on a skateboard. I went back to the salon trying to recall the code and noticed I did not need it or the key because the door was open. I entered, saw Hoyt sitting in the bathtub (noticably depressed, just like one point in the show) and went to grab my stuff. His phone alarm was going off and I could not stop it. That very second I realized it was my alarm and I awakened. Sharon's chair was there for me. I don't know why that guy burned his house. It was huge and really cool. Dated, but I've always appreciated such a look. Whatever. The morning is no different after that strange dream. I am sitting like any other day and wondering why I am still doing this. Typing? No, not typing. Anything. I should have known something was different yesterday. There was suspicion for a time, though. I knew something was amiss, but then later I talked myself out of it. Now? I'm not so certain anymore. This morning will probably not head in such a direction, yet I cannot help but consider the last few months and their toll upon my well-being. This is the type of thing that can destroy me in a matter of weeks. I stopped the countdown months ago, although now I am seeing more reason for such a line than I was in the beginning of the year. I simply can't have this or there will be no more trying. The modifications to my table are finished, mostly. I may yet do more, but the basic shape and saw cabinet are done. I even ran some sandpaper along the edges so it is smoother. That action resulted in a splinter buried in my fingertip which now feels infected. Splendid. Didn't need that shit. Anyway, I was out there for hours yesterday and still cared for the routine. Under fifty degrees outside this morning. First time since last spring. Yikes. Sharon's chair was there for me. I don't know what to do now. The floodwork served its purpose yesterday but I don't feel as good about it as I had expected. Something else has to happen or I'm going to lose my shit, not just my mind. Not happy.
Spitting image of Andrea
I spouted tons of crap and repeated lines all over the place for a long time. Now I don't think my reasoning was enough. I tried, though. No more of that. Some entries now appear ridiculous to me. Today has to be better. No more of that shit feeling; sitting here and not knowing which way to turn. Like my friend Tony said, 'I hate this fuckin' shit!!'. I can sympathize. The mornings are not a big deal other than the typical worry over what to do, but even that is tempered by being comfortable and having the space to consider everything in good time. Later in the day things are different, as if I need to have specific shit finished or something similar. I don't get it at all. The sun is shining already. My sun never appears. Losing. Lost? Loss. Finger hurts. Hard to type. Yard looks nice with leaves all over. No rhyme this time. Maybe all those things I did and all those places I traveled have ruined me. Sharon's chair was there for me. This is better than eleven when the tiniest straw would break me in half. I am much stronger than that now, plus being angry and directing it toward the correct targets really helps me maintain focus. Little steps, little things, a little at a time. I may still lose my shit, though. Some lines are traversed with the throttle lock untouched. Roll over them like so many coins, flattened and shot at terminal speed out into the world. Spit, if you will. The floodwork may not be the answer. I believe the attitude is key right now. Yesterday really showed me that I'm capable after all these years, meaning I'm not worried about whatever physical shit needs to be completed. 'Thy will be done'. The fact is what goes on inside and the effects of other people upon my psyche are the real engineers of this trip. The train of life was more like the train of my mood, whereas this shit is the actual train. Rolling along, partially beyond my control and railed like any other locomotive, yet still with options left after all this time. Nora, Eric, Tara below...
Something I can never have (not the song)
Ooh-fa. She is so fucking cute. Silvio: 'Fuck it. Let's all have a drink.' Don't tempt me just after eight in the morning. Losing my shit, honestly. Without my expressions, they would still be there cackling like the crows in the front yard. Expressions help and keep things quiet. If not, anger ensues. And then everything goes to hell in mere seconds. Once my head hits a switchtrack, there is no return. I will continue expressing, they will continue speaking. Nothing can change. Sharon's chair was there for me. I recently put the kibosh to the LDS missionaries with a hammer blow via text. Just ambiguous enough so that they cannot understand, yet with a few choice words thrown in to get the point across. After that? Platitudes, offers of help and sympathy. Yep, I slammed that door in a fucking hurry. After the first conversation, my eyes were opened a bit and I listened intently. I was asked to share, and being this far along in life has yielded a ton of theological and divine knowledge, both from education and gleaning over the years. As such, my answer blew their skirts up over their heads and revealed the fact that I was nothing more than a number to both of them. Yes, I realize that sounds cold, but the truth is they were here to recruit, period. So, that is that. Shut down and alienated for good. Next time perhaps the JWs will come along and receive something similar. I can snow anyone, anytime, so beware. I mentioned before that this endeavor represents my only semblance of control. Well, the meeting with the LDS helped motivate me to state that there is indeed another... A big one... No one knows who I am and never will. I can't have that. Too damaging. Period. Soon... Today. I have things to do, as usual, but more than that. Certain areas which have gone untouched for a long time need to be addressed, not the least of which are my thoughts. Not everything, but a little in order to continue the forward motion which began yesterday. There was a chair, too.
The realization regarding my obsession is not good. It is hindering my ability to rise and feel like a whole grown-up type of person, just as Charlene said. But I don't know if I can deal with it anymore. Years ago I did not fully understand the feelings and now I am seeing something bad coming out the other side of knowing from where it originated. No, not the car dealer. I think it was the server at the bar in Pleasanton, and on the heels of that was my neighbor. The idea is also rolled up with something Ashley said years later, soon being all neatened and tied with a bow. She was unique, however. The sum is bad for me because it is elusive enough that the entire shitaree may as well be another impossible dream. I will not let it go, though, because the anger toward knowing it is out there but unattainable can help me keep everything else in perspective. Yes, I said that. Vincent said his angst kept him sharp; on the edge. Mine serves to keep the vast chasm between myself and everyone else very wide and constantly visible. I realized what I had been feeling and now the desire has pushed me to distance myself from people out of self-preservation. Sharon's chair is waiting. Sharon is absent. She can't help anymore, though. Just the chair. I sat in that chair way back in zero-three after returning from Nevada and one of the most destructive periods of my life. Sharon spoke, I listened. Now she is gone but the image of that chair remains. She told me I should have been studying philosophy. A few weeks later she referred to me as a philosopher. Before I met Sharon and sat there, Ashley referred to me as unique, special, and unlike anyone she had ever known. Sharon said the same not long after. I listened, always. I do not believe my head became granite until much later in life. Maybe I was as they said. What the fuck am I these days? Too many questions.
My world was simpler when this took priority
Above was the reason for my being so fucked up for six-plus years and placing all the information here. I don't see it in a similar light now, though. I am still fucked up, just in a different way. There was a woman who stood above me and told me I am a person, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. She was beautiful and looked like the image up there. She was also the FIRST representation of a woman over whom I obsessed and one who would do anything I wished. I asked that She become a project and She immediately agreed. But it never happened. At that time I did not know where my interest was going to lead. Now I do. This is not good... Not by a damned sight. And when that woman stood there with a bottle of wine in Her hand, all I could think about was grabbing all of Her and shoving that lithe body into my mouth forever. More anger, less reason. All of this has been on my mind for a long time. The situations which arose and then disappeared have been filed and studied for the same duration. I've mentioned the examples enough, too. There is no reason to go into detail because it is both tiring and unnecessary anymore. I believe I should have gone into such subjects while in the chair, however. That was the time to strike. Enough has taken place since then to force me into believing I cannot do it anymore. Too scary. All I have is this crap. The years have taken their toll, believe me. Sharon's chair was there for me. Maria and her big, bright eyes resembles someone I know personally, and a woman I've been frightened of for several years. She represents the exact opposite of those with whom I have been close. I will never understand her type of personality or mindset, not to mention her interaction with her own husband. He is a fucking great guy and someone I have grown to love over a very long period, yet the other half of the relationship is a complete mystery. She can be menacing. She can also be very tender. Beautiful? Holy fuck, yes... Like beyond a typed description. The woman is stunning from any angle, slender yet curvy, and my height precisely. But the beauty is not the reason for her being scary. Honestly, I cannot go into it here for fear of backlash, but suffice to say that I keep my distance while in her company at a social gathering (extremely rare now, anyway). Maria's character appears similar physically, but inside she is amazingly sweet and kind. The line between those two women could not be thicker. Just saying. And yes, I wish I could spell it out because there may be someone out there who understands. My loss. Another fucking loss. They are piling up. The chair was there for removing losses but I gave it up. Sharon's chair was there for me. The chair is gone. Sharon -- Dr. Sharon, to be precise -- remains, but I cannot speak with her any longer. I have larger issues right now than I thought a mere day ago."
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