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Growing Irony In A Zen Garden

29th November, 2013. 7:27 am. Stupid dreams...

I hate my brain sometimes. I met the perfect girl in dream-Chicago. I let us get split up just in time to wake up. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She looked like a physical blend of Lizzy and Ginny and was probably too young for me despite her intelligence. So, yeah, just my type. Dangerous and pretty and smart. Everything I can't seem to find here. Damn it. I don't think I've ever wanted to go back to a dream so badly.

Make Notes

18th October, 2013. 8:06 am.

Somehow it's easier, knowing she's in Boston now. Gone is gone is gone, and nothing to be done about it. Sometimes I wonder if I even cross her mind, but I doubt it. She's on a headlong path for number one, no time to stop for the peasantry. I have my own life to focus on anyway. Some days I even manage not to think of her.

My dad needs caretaking since his accident. That's really not easy. His recovery is just so frustratingly slow. Settling into the house still doesn't feel like home because of it. I never truly relax because I'm always looking out for him. I feel neglectful when I'm not.

Today is the first moment I've had to myself in so, so long. Dad's not up yet, neither of my girls are here. It's...quiet. I really like it.

Sometimes I wonder if I should be with anyone right now. Relationship-wise, I mean. Sarah and Hannah are wonderful, most of the time, but I don't...need them. Not the way I needed her. I'm fairly certain I'll never allow myself to need anyone like that again. Defense measure, maybe. Maybe just cold reality.

Life was easier when I thought love was real. Maybe that's why people hold onto their naivete. The rush you get from that blindness is overwhelming. I won't lie, I wish I could shut my eyes again. But that's not the way these things work, is it? Enlightenment is a one-way street. They don't tell you about that part.

The hardest part about seeing the world for what it is is the knowledge that I can't change it. My choices, if such things exist, have left me doing what I can here, but "here" just isn't the right place for me. I wanted to be where I could reach more people, do more. My school was supposed to be a testing ground, a prototype, not the final model. The people here are...dried up. They've lost hope of anything better, so they all just settle for less. It's really no wonder my girls stay with me. They'll never find a replacement, here. If they knew anything of the wider world, they'd know I'm not really all that great. In the kingdom of the blind, the sighted man is god. Yet, isn't he needed more there than anywhere else?

I need peers. And not Adam. He's an asshole and probably always will be. Forever stunted, failing to learn from his mistakes of character. I miss John. I miss Carl. I miss Ryan. I miss Michelle.

I'm surrounded by people, but I feel so alone.

I need a beacon.

Make Notes

18th May, 2013. 12:13 am.

Sometimes I worry that my journal is all too full of negativity and strife. I want you to know, future self, that right now we're doing very well. The school is doing well, we scored a victory for working men everywhere at work, and we have two very wonderful women in our lives. We're very, very busy, and tomorrow we're going to see things that we never thought we could see. Enjoy your scotch, enjoy everything you have, because you earned it. We change people's lives for the better every day. We all acquire more baggage over the years, and you've become stronger rather than let the weight of it crush you, Herculean effort that it was. Nothing is perfect, and that's perfect the way it is. A few years from now you'll look back on this and once again find yourself amused at how much everything can change.

Before you ask, yes, she's still there, but there's a vast distance, now. It still hurts, but most of the time you can put it aside in favor of the moment. Just tonight, you read someone's very succinct words on the subject (and if they were actually directed my way, thank you), and it meshed very well with some thoughts you've had all on your own.

A chicken is not a duck.

A long time before this, you finally understood that it was all your fault.

Who knows what great revelation you will have next?

Buddha held a up a lotus flower, and Mahakasho smiled.

Make Notes

12th April, 2013. 12:50 am.

I don't want to be the last Satori.

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15th February, 2013. 1:38 am.

I'm tired of feeling like this, single or not. It's old, universe. Enough. I was sick of it long before her, and after her is just cruel punishment for wrongs I can't even pin down.

Oh, I get it. Two years, four months and some arduous change. I have to serve time. I see. (Well, chalk down year one in only a couple months. Unbelievable that I still feel this way after this much time. Definitely a first.)

It's all karmic, you see. That's why I can't change it. This fate is nailed down fast. I can't change her, and I can't change me. I can change anything else but those things. Hell, I could probably manage to thrive as a coke-addled gambling addict, my luck is so screwed up. I spend money like it's water, and more flows in. I treat my "girlfriend" like shit half the time, and she loves me more for it. It's like I can't do anything wrong right now, all while my heart rots away from the inside.

I dug out some of the books Guy left when he ran off to Wisconsin or whatever. One if them is just crammed full of journals. I'm working my way through them for some kind of sign as to whether he really has the right ideas, or he's just a madman.

Sometimes I wonder why I keep so many mementos of my lifetime around my apartment. The shelves above my computer are basically a giant shrine to my memories. Gifts from others, things I've bought for myself that help me relate to the times of joy and sorrow and the long, long road that leads to where I am. It wasn't even until recently that I realised what a giant monument it'd become. I was doing it subconsciously.

Bottom front and center, now, is where I've locked her away. The gateway to her is locked inside a box and surrounded by the ritual elements that I so futilely utilised in an attempt to shake the heavens.

I imagine the gateway actually leads to a landfill somewhere outside Chicago.

She never was the sentimental sort.

She probably smashed the clock, too.

No, no. She'd keep that. It's useful to her, and doesn't demand anything on her part. Perfect for a sociopath.

Make Notes

25th July, 2012. 6:37 am.

I miss the happy times, the carefree times, the times when even when I was stressed and frustrated with my life, I could just be with her and everything else was forgotten. Lying together, and being silly, and making wishes on eyelashes. I'm so tired of waking up heartbroken, all of that stuff gone and probably forgotten.

Read 2 Notes -Make Notes

19th July, 2012. 4:21 pm.

I just want it to be okay to love her.

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29th May, 2012. 9:32 pm.

I'm so tired of being tired. It's physical, it's mental, it's spiritual exhaustion. I don't have anything left. My work is being affected, I'm making stupid mistakes everywhere I turn. I've taken to hitting myself again because my sense of self-worth is so shattered that the idea of putting it back together again is laughable.

Don't get me started about work, really. It's such an autopilot task that all I have to do all day mentally is brood about how pathetic I am. And of course I can't stop thinking about her. I waver wildly from being able to accept that she's gone and that I need to move on, and pointless hope that maybe some magic fairy will wave her wand and she'll come back to me.

It's stupid, stupid, stupid.

I'm going up to the city this weekend. We're all supposed to game together. She'll be there. This is going to be incredibly difficult for me. None of them understand. This wasn't just some relationship, like everyone else gets. This was true love. The kind of thing that makes you go, oh, I get what the dumb songs are about. She was the other half of me, and now that's gone. Half of me is gone, and I have to go back to being half a person, just like I have been my whole life before I met her. I have to function with my own chaotic imbalance, veering desperately from yang to yin and furiously back again. I just can't do it.

None of them understand that I'm an intensely self-aware person. I know what I do and do not want, what I do and do not need. I need that other half. I need that partner, that companion, the daughter I will never have to the father I will never be. My whole life has been a quest to find that, to be that. I'm not complete without it. I'm simply not. My life will never be much, but if I can help my spirit's mate make the absolute most of theirs, my life can *mean* everything.

Without that, it doesn't mean anything. We're all here to do something, and I'm here to teach. In teaching, I learn. It gives me patience, and foresight, and wisdom that I don't have otherwise. Who I am is bound up in that dynamic, and that dynamic has to be there in my relationships, too. I need to feel needed, important, and special. I want to be that person my other half turns to, and I want them to feel the same way, to welcome me with open heart and open mind and open arms. The one I want to be with realises that we're both here to learn from each other, that the mutual partnership we have is born of a mutual simultaneous teacherness and studentness.

When Denise was happy and didn't harbor doubts, that's what we had. I want so very badly for that Denise to come back again. I want her to be happy. I want my little girl to find herself, and I want her to find some of herself in me, like I did in her. It seems so obvious a choice to me, and I just don't understand why it's not to her. I'm terrified that this freedom she seeks really is better for her, and I'll never have my other half back.

Can't you see how horrifying that prospect is for me? I can't ever, ever count on finding another person who has the same collection of aspects that are so compatible with mine. I'm young enough that it's a long, long fucking life in which to be this lonely. I'm old enough that the idea of starting my search all over again seems just too fucking exhausting, when I'm already so soul-deep tired. Everyone around me is getting on with their lives, settling down, marrying, having kids. There's no singles left. Of those singles, they're the ones who don't make the cut for obvious reasons. At my age, it's the cream of the crap that's left untaken. I'm right there with them. So I think you can see why I don't think much of myself these days.

Nearly thirty and single, with absolutely no prospects in sight? Christ, that's overwhelming.

My social/dating pool for the rest of my life could very well be the group of people I can't ethically date or socialize with: my students.

I've lived myself into a corner, because I thought I had some reasonable idea of where my future was headed. I didn't bother keeping options open. When you feel that complete, it seems silly to do so.

I fear I'm going to spend my whole life waiting for something to happen, because I'm locked into my routine with no way out. And that something will never arrive.

I've never asked to be rich, or famous. I'll never be the best kung-fu artist around, there's always better. The only thing, the ONLY thing, that I've ever asked for was to have a good woman in my life that I can share all the things a man can share with a woman. Is that really too much to ask for? Really?

Current mood: crushed.

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21st May, 2012. 8:37 pm.

The worst part about this breakup is I feel like everyone knows I wasn't good enough, and they're judging me. I feel like an idiot for ever believing that I can ever get her back. Hope is as foolish as ambition. They're kind of one and the same, really.

I'm stuck. I'm just passing time, and I don't even have any idea towards what.

She and I have been talking again. It helps. It still hurts, but I have fewer really down moments just knowing that she's still in my life. How pathetic is that?

They say that to love someone else, you have to love yourself first. I think that's bullshit. How can one know if one's self is worth loving unless someone else does so first? To jump that gun seems like delusional narcissism, don't you think?

The truth is, I don't love me. I'm picky, and a lot of the time I don't feel good enough for myself. I know I have a ton of great qualities, but I'm also a giant jackass. I'm a fucking mountain of self-doubt, cynicism, and depression. I've been on a manic wave for something over three or four years, and now I'm crashing from that so hard I want to put a bullet through my head every three or four minutes.

But I do have one good quality: I keep my promises. I won't be offing myself, no matter how badly I want to. I promised I wouldn't. I promised I wouldn't hurt myself, either. They're hard promises to keep, because some sweet oblivion, or some reckless damage, sounds like a really good idea these days.

I just wish I felt like I had anything to offer anyone else besides disappointment. You'll never be good enough for me, and if you are, I'll never be good enough for you.

Make Notes

17th May, 2012. 5:12 pm.

I feel like I sold my happiness to keep you alive. Why does it feel like you would never do the same for me?

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