I don't want this to be me.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tries to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Macaroni. This is how I feel tonight.

Let the record state, that I want to go home.

Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck me! Fuck old people! Fuck children! Fuck peace! Fuck peace...

Love is either in your heart, or on its way.

Love. It's a burning thing. And it makes, a fire-y ring.

Probably best weekend ever. Family weekend with Kwan. We spent 72 hours of pure bliss together, platonic and otherwise. His schedule changes this week though and we shall stand the pure test of time. Though we've already stood it and passed. 6 weeks? What's 6 months, 6 years...? The way I feel, is everything that he says is romantically priceless. And it will find its way into a movie script or novel or short story of mine one day. And girls will swoon. And I will have lived it. Deal with that.

Try as I may, it doesnt last...

Oh, the trails and tribulations of life. I feel like this is the on-going theme of this blog. Neuroses. Trying to get rid of the muck. Searching for happiness. I think I like coming up with themes. I'll continue with themes in my writing and life:

-Trying to define love
-Looking for identity
-What it means to be human
-Purpose and adulthood
-Responsibility
-Loneliness
-Spirit
-Relationships

Marching into the unknown, armed with... nothing.

Back to New York. What awaits me? Why do I leave everything comfortable and familiar behind? Am I taking a risk this time? Do I take too many risks in life that lead me back to start? I guess I have the opportunity to start new. I have my whole life ahead of me, as the saying goes. I know let my heart lead me more than I do my mind. But is my heart in two places? First of all, I want to see if I can make it. Can I survive on my own? Can I live the life I know I should be living? I feel so cliche! But really. Can I?

There are other things plaguing me. Maybe I put too much trust in strangers, maybe I give too much of myself to people. But I love people. I blame Hollywood for my unrealistic notions of love and being in love. Magic. Do I actually experience magic? I read this article on the science of falling in love, and my analytical side believed a heck of a lot of it. It made sense. I mostly skimmed, so all I remember is the three chemical and environmental stages of love. Something like, Lust, Attraction and Attachment, all being temporary stages of a relationship... Oh, fuck it. I'm in love.

The Owl

It only comes out at night, wings folded, to meet the buzzing of the street lights. Searching for the silver moon whose light is overwhelmed by that of the city, stars outshone by red and blue and yellow, I wait to hear it.

Swaddled in the sheets, suffocating, alone in a bed for two, I perk my ears to hear its soothing coos. I sigh, imagining its great wings outstretched, its eyes piercing with intent for its song. The owl never fails me.

For months I dream awake, hoping to be anywhere but the danger of my bed, and the emptiness of the room in an apartment shared by indifference. My owl will take me away.

I kick and tear at the bedclothes, writhing and struggling against the cold body next to me. I escape to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the great creature, wanting to straddle its back as it makes its nightly hunt, disappearing at the first glimpse of light.

But pulling back the curtains, hundreds of smudged windows stare back at me, dark and vacant. A scrawny tree whips wildly in the spring breeze and I now know no birds could perch here, not my animal.

The beginning of the end.

This is the beginning of the end of the demons. We all know the things that plague us, the thoughts that keep us turning onto our pillows at night. We all never want to admit them. Let me be candid; candor is all I have.

For me demons are insecurities, financial difficulties and jealousies that yield anxiety attacks and digestive illness.

Today:

--I worried about getting a job.
--I argued for a lost cause.
--I was jealous of other peoples' lives.
--I brought up the awful past.

I am too sad a creature. What/who will help me? Where has all my strength gone; or did I ever have any?