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War All The Time
|Drawing A Line In The Sand
|I entertained the idea of not writing this, not posting this, or attempting to not even think this to begin with. As if that would ever work. I realized that I've gotten to where I am today by being open and being honest. So, this is me being honest.|
It's difficult figuring out where to draw that line in the sand. When you're dealing with such a mix of emotions and confusion, you're sad and you're frustrated, you over analyze every fucking word. When do you say enough is enough? How do you decide to finally pull that trigger? There is a point in a relationship where you have a choice of moving forward, or leaving. There is no going back. There is the future, and there is nothingness. Sometimes the only option is to disappear. And I'm scared of that. I know what that will do to me. It's been a long time since I've been in a position to feel like that. But there is no middle ground. There is no gray area.
It is strange knowing you will read this, but that we will probably not speak because you cannot bring yourself to do what needs to be done, and that this could very well be the last thing I openly say to you. That door is still open, but it won't be for much longer. I'm sorry if the lack of middle ground hurts, but there's no other option. I know you care, that was never doubted. But that doesn't fix everything. It's a starting point, but it doesn't make things okay. You have to care enough to be willing to work past the problems you're facing. That's life. Whether you're 25, or 50, that's life.
Go ahead and surround yourself with people who have no fucking idea what you're dealing with, and are nothing more than a cast of characters that perpetuate the issues that caused these problems in the first place. Avoidance and distraction only work for so long. Taking 22 years to realize something and then running away from it, well, you can tell me what kind of decision making that is. It wasn't enough for you to get out of your comfort zone, to be a challenge, to be something different. Say one thing, but do another. Thinking in the short term, or not thinking at all, is always the easier option. Things will catch up. They always do. Maybe it won't be as surprising to you next time, but I wouldn't count on that. History repeats itself for a reason. You can only run from so much.
I'm not angry. I'm sad, and I'm disappointed. You let me down. You've insisted on writing an ending long before I planned on having to do so.
It's particularly tough for me to give up on the things I care about. Even if it hurts me in the meantime. I become an optimist in the worst of situations. Catch me on a normal day, I'll give you all the negativity you can handle. Throw me into a situation that actually means enough to make me feel something, I'll lose my fucking mind trying to make it okay.
It's happened before, you know. You wouldn't be reading this right now if it hadn't.
They say that things get better with time. That doesn't mean it's right. Maybe it only means you've managed to push something away for long enough, to distract yourself long enough to the point of not feeling like you used to. Is that really "getting better?" Is that really doing what's right? If you lie to yourself enough, eventually you'll believe it. Eventually those feelings will fade. Time is a powerful force, for better or worse.
I take a shower. I close my eyes and I try to disappear into the water. I tell myself I'll sort it out tomorrow. That maybe I overreacted. That maybe it isn't all doomed. It's not all a lost cause. It's not all a mistake.
"It's not really her that you miss. It's the idea of her."
No, no. It's her, I swear, really, it's her. I realize how pathetic I sound. You can't just throw a switch and turn off those feelings. I don't believe I would even if given the option.
But it's out of my hands. You can only be brave enough for yourself and somebody else for so long. It is not how I wanted it, but it is not my decision. There's no negotiating with someone that just wants to be a hostage to sadness.
There is nothing more difficult in life than saying goodbye to somebody that you love, realizing you don't have any other option, and yet still having that little part of you that just says "Please, God, let this work." All those other pieces were in place. Everything was how I wanted it. And that's why it hurts so much, and that's why it's so hard to just walk away. Because I wouldn't have changed a fucking thing. Because at the end of the night, when it's just me stuck with the thoughts in my head, nothing changes. That phone doesn't ring. I still want something I cannot have. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I say goodbye. She says goodbye. I cry, I cry, I cry.
I close my eyes.
I hope for something to change. I hope for this to get better. To feel better. Somehow.
I hope for a lot of things.
I am not a man of strong faith by any means, but I would like to thank everyone that took the time to say a prayer for me, wish me well, or even just listen to me talk in circles at some awful hour of the night. Things don't always go as you plan, and I'm not doing very well, but gestures like those give me hope in a time where I feel like I really don't have much else. So, thank you, as sincerely as I could ever mean it.
No matter how much you learn over the years, some things just never get easier. You just have to keep your head up. You just have to keep going, man, you just have to keep going. What other options do you have? I'll take hope over sadness. I'll take love over fear.
Never give up.
she said that I'm a shining star in her sky
and I feel that far away
I'll make a wish for the best
of all the little things that i miss
and just walk away
|Tags: journal, blog, personal, goodbyes
|I owe you this blog. You know more than most people how much these words mean to me and how important it is for me to get them out of my head. There are few people who have been as big a part of my life over the past year or so, and maybe you will continue to be that, but things change, and usually not for the way we would prefer. We are headed in very opposite directions, both figuratively and literally, and as good as I am with telling you how things will end up, I do not know the answer to this one.|
I once said that if I write about a person, it is the most sincere, flattering, and significant gesture that I can express towards them.
This entry feels incomplete, as there is always something more to say to you.
Here you are. After all this time.
"I have to go," I said. I could feel it rising up in me, that pressure in the throat, the burning in the eyes.
There are points in conversations and moments in situations that if you do not remove yourself promptly you will end up repeating the words you've already said, and you will be crying even harder than the first breakdown. I thought I had said everything there was to say. If I didn't leave, I was going to lose it.
I let go of her hand. I reached for the door.
She grabbed my arm. "I love you, I really do," she exclaimed in a voice with an amount of desperation and urgency I've never heard before.
Then I lost it. God, I lost it.
A driveway conversation reduced to nothing but a blur of tears. Two kids crying for an hour in the moonlight. I went on and on, but all I can actually remember saying is, "It's not the end."
I didn't expect it to be like this. I feel foolish for wasting time, missing opportunities, and not being as good of a friend as I believe I could have been. I didn't expect to care as much as I did. As I do. I never thought it would really add up to anything, and I certainly never thought if it did, it would be when it was time to say goodbye. The technicalities of what is and what isn't a goodbye can be argued indefinitely, but the bottom line is that when a person is gone, they are gone.
You can love somebody, and they can love you back, but the truth is that that's just not enough. There is no guarantee for a perfect ending. There's not even a guarantee of a relatively pleasant ending. People change, faster and faster it seems, and as I get older I continue to have trouble accepting these changes. Once something is gone, very rarely does it return. Life gets in the way and people go in different directions. I envy the optimists, for they feel something I may never know.
I try to see the big picture. I don't always, and I get caught up in the moment, the short term aspect of things. But if you can change somebody for the better, if you can leave your mark, if you can become unforgettable, then that is a victory. All of the bad things are canceled out. Try not to let it hurt too much, for too long. You've done more than most people ever will.
"It's not the end," she told me. We said goodbye.
You don't hear it very often, and you believe it even less.
But you are loved.
|Tags: journal, blog, personal, goodbyes
|No Retreat. No Regrets.
|An old friend once told me, "Life is interesting." A simple statement, but obviously, he was right, it is. |
It was the rainiest of days. I had never seen the cars in this town pull over for a rainstorm; it was something fierce. It's too small a town for that. You're only going 15 miles per hour anyways. We still couldn't see a thing.
It was the night before he left for school, so we wanted to do something, anything, regardless of how predictable or ordinary it was. He deserved a sendoff. After being there all those years, he was finally moving on to something and someplace better. And I felt sad for losing the one person who had never let me down, but I knew I wasn't really losing him, it was just a change. Everything changes, it's just that sometimes you know the date when that change is going to occur. You are given the time to check your list and say your goodbyes and try to make yourself okay. Most of the time you don't get that chance.
No big deal, I thought. We pulled over into a side parking lot outside what is now some sort of house of worship. I think it's funny how when I was a kid this was a steakhouse. Then another church. After that, simply abandoned. Just a shack. Now once again a church, a place where people come to put their souls at ease. Juxtaposed one hundred feet from a recently remodeled Pizza Hut.
I couldn't believe how fucking hard the rain was. It was nice though, in a sense, to be trapped there in the rain. We had a few moments to talk, just about nothing, in the middle of a monsoon in the most random of places. These past few years we've learned to appreciate the rain in Georgia. Some complain about their shoes, or their hair, or the fact that they can't find a parking spot one space closer than where they usually would have put their car normally. We don't do that as much here nowadays.
We got back on the highway, headed to our usual spot, to order our usual food, and see the usual people, most of which we didn't care to see. We would play the part, fake the smile, and just go on. Because that's what people do. And because most of the time, it doesn't matter. Most people mean nothing to each other, and that's fine. They aren't meant to. Some people need to be loved by everyone, and some need to give as much love as they can. Some people keep to themselves and they have no concept at all of what love is, or what it isn't, or anything else in between. Some are okay like that, and some are anything but okay.
The first car was embedded in the side of the hill. It didn't look terrible, it was hard to tell with the rain and the fog and the curve. It seemed to just be a car that had slid off the highway and into a ditch. Happens all the time. My eyes shifted ahead and then I saw the other car. We stopped right next to it. Traffic was going nowhere. This had just happened. It was raining harder again and I could see people standing around this car. I could see the man in the drivers seat the front end and roof of his vehicle crushed, and a man in a military uniform trying to pull him out, or trying to talk to him, trying to do something. We thought about getting out, but realized we would only get in the way. We are not professionals.
A man had stopped to help the person in the car that had slid off the road. The rain got worse. We were a minute, maybe less behind the point of contact. He went to check on the driver. Why? Because he needed to know they were okay. The car that was now upside down probably never saw him. Even if it did, physics had taken over and what was going to happen was going to happen. Maybe this was meant to be. The car hydroplaned and the man was hit. He may have never seen the car that may have never seen him. He ended up a fair distance from where the vehicle now laid, upside down and crushed in on itself.
He had gone to help the other driver, and he was killed instantly. The driver was fine for the most part, physically at least. There were no paramedics and there were no police officers. This was not an accident scene. This was life unfolding, and this was life ending.
It was just the few people standing there, the person in the uniform trying to talk to the driver trapped in the car, my friend and I sitting in the rain an arms length away from it all, and it was a man, dead or dying in the grass or on the shoulder of the road. I can't remember seeing the body, and perhaps I didn't see it at all. How I could have missed it, I don't know. The rain, the mist, the people, maybe my mind just wouldn't let me process it and I simply can't remember it now. But he was there, and he died. He was coming home from work, and he tried to do something good for someone. And he fucking died next to that river bank.
I know a lot of people right now dealing with things that are terrible. I feel horrible for them, truly. Not only because of their situations, but because I feel helpless for them, and to me that's even worse. The inability to do something for somebody you care about is one of the worst feelings you will ever experience. And you've more than likely been there. And you'll realize, it wasn't just because of what was happening to this person, it was because it was completely beyond your fucking control. You were insignificant, regardless of how much you loved this person, or how much you wanted to make things better for them. In that moment, in the grand scheme of things, you are reduced to nothingness.
It was pouring rain, and he never made it home. And people's lives were changed in that single moment. It was cold. It was miserable. It was over.
Do you ever feel like the rain is never going to stop? Maybe it's come and gone, or maybe it's something new you've found yourself stuck in, and you happened to forget your umbrella. Or maybe you've walked 20 something fucking years in a downpour.
It doesn't matter. You keep going.
You feel like you're stuck, and you feel like things will never get better. It's hopeless you say. It's a lost cause. And I know the rain is awful, I'd be lying if I said otherwise. You get used to it, and eventually it just gets into your skin, and your head, and it's all you fucking know. But that's not how you should feel. It's just that nobody has ever taken the time, or cared enough, to show you otherwise. You might not have ever had a reason to think otherwise. If you're conditioned long enough, or told something so many times, eventually you will believe it.
It doesn't matter. The rain. It doesn't matter. The rain is nothing. You are stronger than that and you deserve better than that. Fuck anyone who ever tells you otherwise. They are the reason for your rain, and all you have to do is keep walking.
Do something good for somebody. Be there for them. It's going to be difficult, but I'm god damn tired of seeing people give up on each other just because it's the easy thing to do. You don't have to care about or love everyone, but those that you do, pour your fucking soul into them. Nothing less, ever. You don't get a re-do. You don't know what comes next. Why waste an opportunity? Why not help somebody? Please, don't take the easy way out. Stay with that person until it stops raining. People were meant for other people, and there's too much heartache and sadness out there to waste opportunities to do something that makes a real difference.
And the rain, as awful as it is, it doesn't define you if you don't let it. In the end, your problems and pains are not what matter.
An old friend once told me, "What matters most is how well you walk through the fire."
And he was right. He was always right. He is always right.
|Tags: life, goodbyes, love
|What It Is To Burn
|The Georgia heat sticks to you like a fly to the tape. It gets inside your head, under your skin, and seeps into your blood. I spend my nights more awake than I am during most of the day. For months, if not years, I have been unable to achieve anything remotely resembling a normal sleep pattern. The nights roll into mornings. The sun shines, the birds sing, the motions of modern life begin once again.|
The medication I was put on to supplement my current regime has failed me miserably. I want to vomit. I swear I have the flu. Fuck this. Trash.
I go to the doctor’s office. I am sitting in the car in the parking lot outside listening to music, waiting for my appointment to start. It makes me uneasy sitting in the waiting room, mainly because of the fact that the waiting room consists of a cramped hallway that is filled with other people even more fucked up than myself. I am sitting in the front passenger seat. People begin to walk out of the building. More and more people. More people. They just keep coming. More people. There must be one hundred two hundred a lot of fucking people standing outside. I hear sirens. The people talk in excited voices. A behemoth of a fire truck arrives on the scene. There does not seem to be any panic, no general concern, more so curiosity and aggravation at having their daily patterns altered by whatever situation has arisen. I haven't a clue as to what is prompting this evacuation. I do not care. I watch the people. The nurses. Some are cute. Some are not. Old men. People in wheelchairs. I do not care. I turn the music up louder. The windows shake. I close my eyes. Finch. What it is to burn.
It appears that you have let me down for the last time. She was right, whoever she was. I deserve better. I deserve something real. It is hard for me to think of somebody in my life as unreliable as you. Disappointing, maybe, but I expected other people to fuck up, not you. All of this time invested, me sitting around like some dependent fuck, waiting on what? What do I have to show for any of it? I suppose that is what I get for letting my guard down and trying to put my faith in somebody. You appear briefly, telling me that you were avoiding my calls because you were afraid of what I might say. What the fuck is that? A relationship of any kind is built on solid communication, and I have to say that you fail miserably at it. Maybe you are a liar maybe you are afraid maybe you are simply a bad person who has no problem toying with the emotions of others. You give me excuse after excuse of why you have yet to follow through with your plans to come spend time with me. I offer to come see you, even though I am a walking disaster. You say it is a great idea. You say you will pay for the plane ticket. You say it will all work out.
Then you fucking disappear. You fucking disappear. Goodbye.
There is nothing irreplaceable about another person at twenty-two years of age. I will value some individuals more than others. Some will mean everything to me. Most will mean nothing. They will come and they will go. They are all replaceable. It is a difficult if not nearly impossible task finding these replacements, but I promise you, they are out there. They are out there and I will never stop looking for them and I will find them and I will be fucking happy.
I am not angry, I rarely get angry. I am let down. I am sad. I am sorry, for myself. I had painted some sort of holier than thou image of you on a canvas in the back of my mind. That is why I kept waiting. It was all going to work out and it was all going to be worth it. Wrong.
I will take our list of things to do, and I will do them regardless of you being there or not. I will do them with somebody else. I will do them by myself. I will do them.
You have chosen to be a spectator rather than a participant. Your choice, my dear.
The only way to forget someone is to find somebody new.
|Tags: journal, blog, personal, life, fire truck, drugs, goodbyes, hope
|If you had a one way ticket to anywhere in the country, where would you go? At this point, I would feel better in the company of strangers, rather than the people I know. I don't know how soon I can make it happen, but God, it has to happen.|
An empty town does so little,
For a heart so full.
You are not here.
|Tags: journal, blog, personal, goodbyes