Needed: A Purpose and a Hammer

It's comin' up a flood outside and here I am without a stockpile of pliable wood and no message from God. Damn...

Breaking Up Really Isn't Hard To Do

I haven't written anything in months. I'm ashamed of myself, really. Blank pages intimidate now instead of provoking me to fill them with whatever inane dribble that fills the catacomb of my mind. What happened?

I can faintly hear my muse. She never left, she only bides her time waiting on me to pull my shit together and get back in the game. She's particular about the company I keep. I've purged myself of undesirables. Perhaps that's why she's whispering to me once again.

My days are proudly wearing now. Hope is something I typically don't allow myself. Its always been a privilege for others but never applicable to me. Disappointment doesn't strike me as deeply as it once did. Its blade has dulled and shrank in lieu of a more suited affliction; happiness.

I don't know why I always decide to write in the early hours of the morning when sleep escapes me and the only thing that keeps me company is the hum of electronics. Everyone else is sleeping soundly as one should at six a.m. Why am I awake?

Regardless, I'll find my way back here more often and remain faithful to this lifelong romance.

So, Where's My Net?

I should be asleep. Typically when I post, that's the first and final phrase that runs through my mind.

I used to write constantly about my idea of love and what it would be like if I were to experience it (or not, whatever the case may be.) Needless to say, I'm doggy-paddling quickly to the deep end. What have I found?

Well, I'm not sure. I have experienced unequivocal bliss and heart-wrenching pain. I catch myself doing what I swore I never would. Never give anyone all of yourself, I would say, because you'll have nothing left. Was I right?

I have no idea. I'm fearful that I was correct in that observation because I have, fully, given myself over to someone and now he has the ability to crush me. I regret it sometimes. I wish I could have remained resolute in my outlook on the horrid nature of other people... but I didn't. I ask myself constantly if it was a mistake and if this will be my undoing or...

my catalyst for change. I suppose only time can tell and I hope that time is a kind mistress.

I'm grateful its only twenty-four hours...

Today was odd. Not odd in that way which warrants thrusting your hand into the nearest garbage disposal but odd because it felt wrong. It wasn't a headache or any other normal body pain that plagues most of us. It just seemed as if the entire day was a rough draft. Unfinished, unpolished, and shitty. Hopefully, its cut from the final product.