I guess life is going a little better.
I'm making some headway on the not getting dicked around by work front.
I still have so much baggage from leaving my last relationship... I'm not talking to Toby anymore. Not really. He finally found himself a job, it started today . I guess because of the timezone he's at his first day right now. We couldn't really talk to each-other without fighting anymore. He just wouldn't respect my boundaries. Hey, here's a thought, if you had a fight with someone the last time you asked "where've you been" when they get home at four in the morning, you shouldn't be surprised when they have a negative response to that question a second time!
I'm tired of carrying this Atlean load around. I thought I managed to shrug much of it off (my Ayn Rand puns, let me show you them) but I guess when so much of it is wrapped up in who you ARE, there's not much to be done about it.
Fearful symmetry is occupying my thoughts lately. The person book-ending the two great loves of my life is considering rooming with me.
I was supposed to be living with Toby come the end of summer...I fear for my own obsessive nature. It's too pat. Patterns...
bookends. chess pieces. prisms. concentric circles, never touching, ever vanishing, consuming each-other... fading to nothingness. Oblivion, or merely wide enough to embrace the world? What is the nature of void? Is it truly empty, or so infinite it contains galaxies, an uncomphrehending wide yawn lost on the edges of periphery, black, outside of range?
My coherency, let me not show you it. Love is vast and terrible. It is a monster. It is a worm that burrows into your heart secreting aphrodisasics, sedatives, riddling your brain of self, until all that fills it is OTHER. The real terror of human nature is that the Devil doesn't exist, but everyone believes in love.
I am free of Orpheus, for I commited his sin and looked back. We never left hell. Now, I am Amaterasu, needing her mirror and the sacred orb to be coaxed out of the cave, so the sun can shine again.
If anyone out there still bothering to read this needs a less cryptic summation of what I just said:
1. why are you still reading this journal?
2. I am terrified of my own weaknesses, of how easily they lend themselves to repeating patterns.
3. There is no three.
4. I'm especially tired of how deeply I feel things, how they impact me long after they shouldn't.
Shadow, echo...one is the flip side of the other... after-thoughts, imprints, fossils. Free yourself from my footsteps, love. Let the memory of your voice torment me no longer. Stop dogging my every step.
I still have so much baggage from leaving my last relationship... I'm not talking to Toby anymore. Not really. He finally found himself a job, it started today . I guess because of the timezone he's at his first day right now. We couldn't really talk to each-other without fighting anymore. He just wouldn't respect my boundaries. Hey, here's a thought, if you had a fight with someone the last time you asked "where've you been" when they get home at four in the morning, you shouldn't be surprised when they have a negative response to that question a second time!
I'm tired of carrying this Atlean load around. I thought I managed to shrug much of it off (my Ayn Rand puns, let me show you them) but I guess when so much of it is wrapped up in who you ARE, there's not much to be done about it.
Fearful symmetry is occupying my thoughts lately. The person book-ending the two great loves of my life is considering rooming with me.
I was supposed to be living with Toby come the end of summer...I fear for my own obsessive nature. It's too pat. Patterns...
bookends. chess pieces. prisms. concentric circles, never touching, ever vanishing, consuming each-other... fading to nothingness. Oblivion, or merely wide enough to embrace the world? What is the nature of void? Is it truly empty, or so infinite it contains galaxies, an uncomphrehending wide yawn lost on the edges of periphery, black, outside of range?
My coherency, let me not show you it. Love is vast and terrible. It is a monster. It is a worm that burrows into your heart secreting aphrodisasics, sedatives, riddling your brain of self, until all that fills it is OTHER. The real terror of human nature is that the Devil doesn't exist, but everyone believes in love.
I am free of Orpheus, for I commited his sin and looked back. We never left hell. Now, I am Amaterasu, needing her mirror and the sacred orb to be coaxed out of the cave, so the sun can shine again.
If anyone out there still bothering to read this needs a less cryptic summation of what I just said:
1. why are you still reading this journal?
2. I am terrified of my own weaknesses, of how easily they lend themselves to repeating patterns.
3. There is no three.
4. I'm especially tired of how deeply I feel things, how they impact me long after they shouldn't.
Shadow, echo...one is the flip side of the other... after-thoughts, imprints, fossils. Free yourself from my footsteps, love. Let the memory of your voice torment me no longer. Stop dogging my every step.