Scales Of A Lion

0506 – 1224AM

Sometimes I like to reread these pages and try to remember the boy who wrote them.

There are times when my heart aches reading these passages, my sympathy stretching, reaching out across time to the self-pitying boy who scribbled them down months before.

Sometimes my heart feels as if it's tearing anew as I relive those moments that tore it in the first place, perhaps to serve as a  reminder that the hollow void in my heart still persists, unfulfilled.

Other times I read through these entries and am left confused, having forgotten the author of those passages and disbelieving that he and I are the same, the emotional wounds that I wrote of long before having healed- scabbed over and scarred to take shape a new persona far from where he, I started.

- - -

0506 – 0419PM

I now know from where this intense desire to be in a meaningful relationship stems.*

I never really understood the aspects of Libra, perhaps because I never really understood the aspects of myself.

It's all becoming so clear now.

This newfound understanding has made sense of a lot of things I could not have quite figured out on my own before, has given rhyme and reason to the previously unexplored enigma of my subconscious.

The driving force beneath my ego is, as I've mentioned many times before, to be part of a meaningful relationship. To possess ties to other people and breathe something much deeper into its connection.

However, this driving force, this desire is so intense that it frightens me.

Its commanding intensity as my basic primal need is so great, so desperate in its yearning to be fulfilled that it's become my tragic flaw. My Achilles heel.

It's no wonder I am handicapped by my fear of rejection.

Partner that with the numerous disappointments from my previous endeavors and it becomes even more apparent as to why I don't even try to make new relationships, friendship or otherwise, anymore.

I am simply too exhausted, too disappointed to emotionally invest in someone else now.

I still haven't found what I'm looking for, but maybe that's because I gave up searching long ago.

T2M #6

0410— 211PM
I'm trying to make an important life decision, and all I want to do is weep.

I'm frightened and confused, lost and uncertain.

Nothing in life is ever easy, and everything must come at a price.

I know why I want to do this, but I just can't bring myself to do it.

Everything is giving me different answers; I can't even hear the voice inside.

I'm too bound by my fears, my fears of failure, of uncertainty, that I cannot make a move.

- - -

Thank you for that fated encounter, Mr. B.

You played an important role in setting my plans in motion, of motivating me to set forth and blaze that trail that had been beckoning me, almost haunting me.

I've been torn over this for so long, agonizing in my indecision that I've nearly lost sight of all direction.

But now, seemingly in the spur of the moment, I've managed to muster enough courage to make the first step.

Hard part's over.

Or has it just begun?

- - -

The best decisions in life are made on the fly.

Bubble Boy

0206 – 0925PM

It's hard to admit to anyone, let alone to myself, that I'm sad, bitter, miserable, all because I'm lonely.

I drink to forget I'm lonely.

I sleep with strangers to hide the fact that I'm alone.

I push people away to deny that I need them.

I don't know where this insecurity comes from, where this persistent fear of rejection originates.

I can trace its effects, list the symptoms that derive from this fear, but I can't for the life of me find its origins.

I am stubbornly independent. My need to be in control of things at all times have won me no friends, in fact has drive more people away from my reach.

The comfort I find in working alone alone has put me inside a bubble, apart from everyone around me.

I don't know how to work in a team after working alone and only relying on myself all this time.

I don't know how to relate to people when, growing up, I only had my own experiences, my own thoughts, my own knowledge from which to draw.

I can't see anything beyond the solitary bubble I love in, besides the fact that I'm all alone, and everything I'm doing isn't helping to change that.

Righting The Wrong

It always feels like I am in the wrong.

It feels as if all the good I've done, am capable of doing, is overshadowed by the things I can't seem to get right.

I know I ought to look at the bright side, believe that the good I do outweighs the bad.

I know I'm looking at it all wrong, that I'd be happier if I just shifted my perspective on things a little different, but that only goes to show that I'm only capable of doing things wrong.

I'm not a great friend- I don't ask about you, don't care about you unless my immediate needs are met first, that my list of expectations have already been checked off before moving on to someone else.

I'm not a great leader- I'm blunt when it comes to communicating. My focus is on the task at hand and what needs to be done, not on why you can't do it if you're having a bad day.

There are times when my emotional side gets flipped off, diminished to a point of near nonexistence just so I can get through the job, get through the day.

I can spend a good portion of my day working and getting all my shit done, not realizing until the end of the day that I come home to an empty house, that there's a void in my heart and I can't figure out why.

I know I need to be my own best friend.

I've told myself that so many times.

No one's going to believe in me unless I believe in myself.

And I do.

For the most part.

I know I'm capable of doing good.

I know I'm capable of being so much more.

I know all that.

The worst thing about being able to see both sides is picking one.

I can find all the faults, scrutinize all the flaws and cracks.

And I can see the good, the glory behind the tragedy, the sun behind the clouds.

I can see the problem and find the solution.

The only thing I find difficult is choosing a path.

So I stay in the middle.

I stay on the current road and hope for the best while bemoaning my agonies.

I am a sadistic optimist, a optimistic sadist.

And I know that's wrong, but I won't choose something else.

- - -

I'm tired of always having to remind myself that I am better than this, better than wallowing in my sorrow over failures and hurdles I can't ever seem to overcome.

Tired of always having to remind myself that I am also capable of great achievements, accomplishing triumphant success.

Tired of reminding myself how far I've come, the leaps and bounds I've made, and the long, unfamiliar road that still looms in the distance.

I'm tired of being my own cheerleader.

It gets lonely sitting on the sidelines by myself, with no one else there rooting for me.

But it's the only choice I have.

Even it's a wrong one.

The Fate of the Groundhog

I'm feeling at such a loss.

Strange, I thought that period of the year for me was already over and done with.

I thought that once I made it through January, I'd be okay.

That I would pick up where I left off and resume normal functioning, rejoin the ranks of being a functional member of society again.

Looks like there's six more weeks of trouble.

- - -

I'm not yet at a point where I can fully comprehend how the loss of the man who taught me so much has affected me.

I'm devastated to be sure, but I just can't find the words to sum up exactly how I feel, to accurately identify what it is that's plaguing my mind over this.

I've learned so much under his tutelage, through his mastery and philosophy. It's added an invaluable layer to me that I hold dearly in such high regard.

I'm in woe of the regret I have for not making much of it, for not taking advantage of the time Fate had graciously given me to be spent with him.

Missed opportunities and such.

And now there is no more possibility of chance to learn more from him, learn from his experiences to help me grow, and I am saddened by this.

E.W. "Bill" Mueller was a great man. I did not know him personally in intimate detail, but nonetheless he imparted to me something so great I have no other way of thanking him but to continue on with what he's given me and to help share that with those in need of healing from his wisdom.

- - -

I've been filled with such grief and anguish lately and it feels like there is no stopping point looming in the horizon any time soon.

Blame it on the lack of working.

Blame it on the lack of consistency.

Blame it on the excessive amount of free time on my hands, and the lack of things to do that are within my control.

Blame it on reading old journal entries of tales that are done and over with yet from which I can't seem to move on.

Blame it on anything but myself because right now, I'm finding it difficult to take responsibility for my actions.

I'm lacking focus. I can't fully analyze anything, make sense of anything at the moment. This translates to a feeling of lack of control, and I automatically enter panic mode.

I feel as if I'm running in circles, going nowhere.

Can't even formulate a sentence, an idea or thought, to full fruition.

Can't even finish a fucking blog entry.

Looking for Trouble

Trouble is his only friend and he's back again.
Makes his body older than it really is.
He says it's high time he went away; no one's got much to say in this town.
Trouble is the only way is down.
Down, down.

As strong as you were, tender you'll go.
I'm watching you breathing for the last time.
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet,
I know what it means and I'll carry you home.
I'll carry you home.

If he had wings he would fly away, and another day God will give him some.
Trouble is the only way is down.
Down, down.

As strong as you were, tender you'll go.
I'm watching you breathing for the last time.
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet,
I know what it means and I'll carry you home.
I'll carry you home.

And they were all born pretty in New York City tonight.
And someone's little girl was taken from the world tonight, under the Stars and Stripes.

As strong as you were, tender you go.
I'm watching you breathing for the last time.
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet,
I know what it means and I'll carry you home.

I'll carry you home.

- - -

Expectations are gone, and I don't know who I am anymore.

From the moment I sent the text, I knew what would happen.

Knew what kind of unfulfilled emptiness I was doomed to repeat yet again.

But I still pursued.

This casual business has gotten me nowhere before, and it's getting me nowhere now.

I can only think of two things:

1) Old habits die hard, and
2) Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

Problem is I can remember my past; I just choose to ignore it.

Règle de Reine

"On a high throne, looking into a clouded sky, sits a queen with a raised sword in her left hand. This suggests, 'Let those approach who dare!'

Her crown and the base of her throne are decorated with the butterflies of the soul, and just under the arm of the throne we find a sylph, the elemental of the air. The queen's face is chastened through suffering.

Choose this card for a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman.

Divinatory Meaning: A subtle, keen, and quick-witted woman who may represent a widow or one who is unable to bear children. Perhaps she is mourning for those she loves who are far away from her.

Reversed: Unreliability. Narrow-mindedness. Gossip. Deceit. Malice. A woman of artifice and prudery."*

- - -

"The Queen of Swords indicates a woman who is blessed (or cursed) with sharp perception, and highly honed intuition. She is acutely analytical, with a razor-sharp ability to get to the heart of a situation, seeing exactly what is, rather than what others would wish her to see.

She is a private woman, unwilling to let people too close to her until she is satisfied she thoroughly understands their motivations. But once won as a friend, she is unfailingly loyal, honest and supportive.

She's usually very intelligent, with a dry sense of humour. Her penetrating insight will often reveal aspects of themselves to others that they had previously been unable to grasp - thus she is a capable therapist, teacher or leader.

The woman represented by this card will be experienced in the flow of life, understanding a great deal about both the great triumphs, and the deepest failings of the race. Her clarity and measured expression will be of great value at times of confusion and sadness.

Sometimes in a reading, this card will turn up to indicate a woman in a particular phase of her life, where she temporarily becomes a Sword as a result of what is happening to her. In that case the card is not quite so positively defined, for it can indicate a woman left alone, and perhaps embittered. She may be a widow, or a woman passing through the aftermath of divorce.

In this case we often see the more negative aspects of the Queen - coldness, judgmentalism, criticism. At these times there is a certain sourness about her, with cynicism and sharpness making themselves felt.

It should be said that these qualities are inherent to the woman who is a Queen of Swords by nature too - if the woman concerned has not evolved sufficiently you will often find that the card represents a person who is hard and cold toward others."**

- - -

My guards are rising.

I can feel them going up, even though I know I'm desperate for the opposite.

Old habits die hard, I guess.

I want to say, Come in, come in. You're welcome here.

But the barbed wire I surround the gates with are less beckoning than my whole-hearted appeal.

You're welcome inside, as long as you don't hurt my pride.

And I wonder why the signals are always crossed.

- - -

I know I am meant to be happy.

I just haven't found anyone yet to bring me that happiness.

* Gray, Eden. A Complete Guide to the Tarot. New York: Bantam, 1972. Print.
** (source)

0104-a: Snake Skin

I went to Starbucks today to see if I could make sense out of the uncertain chaos going on in my life.

After yet another failed attempt for human company, I tidied up my room a bit (moved a pile of clothes from one spot and moved it to another) to the old, familiar, comforting sounds of Death Cab for Cutie's  "Transatlanticism."

After accomplishing that task, I crumpled onto the floor, my back against my sliding closet doors, as I tried to make sense of what was going on with my life as the mellow, poignant tunes of Death Cab continued to play.

Finally after a long moment of self-pity I decided, I don't need anyone to escort me through my life, and got up to head to the neighborhood Starbucks on my own.

Armed with cigarettes, my Gold card, one of my trusty journals, and two pens (hey, you never know), I grabbed my usual venti soy green tea latte at 140° and a table outside and got to writing to sort out the heavy cloud of thoughts I had floating in my head.

At a point where it felt like my life had fallen off the tracks, I originally wanted to write about what I was going to do to help myself get back in order.

But knowing the way life goes on (especially my own), I ended up writing about something else, touching on something much deeper that was going on in my psyche.

The following is the journal entry that transpired from this event.

0104 — 0550PM

I don't know what to do with my life.

A common theme, at least I'm sure it's something with which the pages of this journal is not unfamiliar.

I've been here before. This chaotic feeling of being all out at sea is not foreign to me whatsoever.

Regardless, I am still unnerved by this overpowering notion that the ground I've put myself on is still rocky, still unstable — ready to crumble from the immense weight of uncertainty I carry, ready to allow the earth to swallow me whole with no trace of me left for others to find.

Yes, I've been in this same situation before.

These raw feelings of being vulnerable and bare I still find uncomfortable, no matter how many times I've already come face-to-face with them.

It feels as if I'm shedding an old layer of skin to make room for a new one.

It is within this awkward, transitory process do I find myself naked and vulnerable. While having outgrown another layer of my life, I feel I am not ready to take on a new one.

I would very much like to hold on to that old layer of skin because it is there that I find secure protection.

I've earned that layer of skin I'm now trying to shed.

I've earned its experience, earned its knowledge and wisdom.

Earned everything that came with the life I lead while wearing it.

Everything I absorbed from life while living in that skin is what made it tough. The knowledge, the familiarity, the undoubted certainty -- everything that came with the passage of time -- made that skin my protector, my shell.

Those experiences helped to shape me, gave me an identity to show the world around me.

Told me who I was, where I stood.

My strengths. My flaws.

The overall quality of my existence so I knew how I measured up to those by whom I was surrounded.

Now that the powers that be have decided that it's time for me to shed that skin I had grown into, grown comfortable with after all this time, not only am I afraid of feeling raw and vulnerable once more, but also I wonder: who am I going to be once I lose that piece of me?

Despite my immense desire to understand the unknown (especially if it comes with the advantage of personal growth), I'm frightened by the possibility that after all these years of self-introspection and psychoanalyzation, I still don't understand myself at all.

I still look to outside sources to figure out who I am.

I guess in my desire to be a part of this world, I seek out ways to define myself in their terms.

A gay male.

A Leo.

A Rabbit.

A schizoid with minor psychopathic tendencies.

These are definitions made by other people that I assign to myself, believing in the knowledge of others as a means to understand myself instead of going straight to the source.

Because the truth of the matter is: I don't even know myself.

But then again, does anyone know their selves at such an intense and intimate level similar to what I am in pursuit of with myself?

It's very rare, if not impossible, to come in contact with an individual who knows everything about them self whole-heartedly.

For one, not many out there are willing to exchange their vision of the world around them for a closer look inside themselves.

They might already be too preoccupied with their outside world, too involved with the external to even consider the internal.

Or they may have already taken a peek at who they are inside, and either they were satisfied with the superficial snapshot of what they saw and moved on, or they saw something in themselves that frightened and discouraged them from the possibility of deeper exploration of their psyche.

Also, because of our resilient and pliable nature, it may very well be impossible for anyone to completely know their selves entirely.

As we move through life, we grow. We change. We are not always the same.

The beliefs, ideals, and understandings we hold on to one moment may not be the same ones to which we subscribe the next, or years after.

Because of the infinite possibilities bestowed upon us and the forward, linear fashion of our existence, our movement through life, we will never fully explore all the avenues within our grasp, therefore unable to fully understand the limits of our capacity, our actions, our thoughts, our essence — in short, the whole of our being.

Knowing this, however, has still yet to prevent me from attempting to wholly explore and understand myself with what I know and what I've been given.

I could have gone on and on, but unfortunately due to my body's design, my hand was already exhausted.

Also, I became distracted by the goings on of Facebook via my cell phone, so I decided there would be a good stopping point for that entry.

Going back to what I originally planned on writing about: my life being a jumbled mess of sorts.

Now that I'm officially no longer in school, it's as if my life is one big open road with just me behind the wheel.

While other people take solace in that and often doggedly pursue to be in a situation like that with their own lives, it has the opposite effect on me.

In all honesty, it scares the shit out of me.

I'm a person who craves structure.

Being the schizoid that I am, knowing all the predetermined rules and boundaries of a situation helps to make me feel safe and secure (then my minor psychopathic tendencies kick in so I can manipulate known variables toward my favor).

That's just the nature of my individual life's philosophy that I've willingly accepted.

I'm used to having life being dictated for me (under my conscious decisions to pick and choose my actions, of course), used to having schedules and tasks and preset expectations that I can meet and/or exceed.

This creates something of a bubble for me, if you will. An environment where I know what is expected, and thus, in control.

Take that bubble away and give me the freedom to choose where to go next in life with some dire and pressing points to consider, and I will inevitably choke.

I don't know where this fear of making my own decisions for myself stems from, because I know it's apparent that I have a mind of my own and am deftly capable of picking and choosing things of my interest or benefit.

However, when it comes to the huge, life-changing decisions, that's the part I always have the most trouble with.

I've experienced this before, after graduating from high school. Instead of going back to college immediately that fall, I decided to continue working my part-time retail job and wasting time.

Sure, I had a general idea of going to massage school, but I sat on that for two-and-a-half years before I eventually got myself around to enrolling.

Now that massage school is over, I'm back to square one. Back to trying to figure out what new direction to take my life on next.

I have yet another general plan, one I've already shared with countless others.

I've already publicly made known what my intentions were after finishing massage school, so not following through with them will only make me feel like a fraud, fill me with humiliation over the fact that I am unable to follow through with what I've set out to do in the first place.

I have the resources ready to get the ball rolling in that direction, so why I am hesitating?

Going back to what I've written earlier today about feeling like a snake shedding its skin. That's exactly what it is, where I am in life at the moment.

I'm being forced to outgrow my old skin (the safety and structure of going to massage school) to make room for a new one.

The only problem is that I don't know exactly what this new skin is meant for.

All I know is that I'm at a point in my life where things are fresh, the opportunities abound, and I'm still standing in the hallway, wondering which door to pick.

It's as if a burden has been lifted from my shoulders after completing school, only to have another, weightier load placed on my back— the weight of the world.

The question is not what am I now supposed to do with it, but rather, how can I get my fickle ass to make a decision?

That remains to be an unsolved mystery.




(another topic begs a response [just who the fuck am I?], but that's for another journal entry...)

Ghost of Christmas Past

I look up at the clock and realize, Oh, it's already 12:13AM.

My first thought is Jesus, I need to get my ass to bed.

And then, with a nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone, Oh, it's Christmas.

To think, around this time, some odd years ago I would've given anything for the energy to be able to make it to midnight just so I can experience the fortune of being able to open a beautifully-wrapped gift I had already picked out beforehand and purchased under my strict direction by my mother or father.

Nevertheless, being granted the privilege to unwrap that present and call it my own on the beginnings of Christmas Day held such joy in my younger years— something not found all too often in my later years.

The surprise, the novelty— it's all worn off since I earned the capability of being able to buy my own luxuries and treat myself to my own gifts.

My world-weary attitude of having seen it all and done it all before has left little opportunity for surprises, let alone diminish my ability to find the novel quality of life's precious but all-too-overlooked experiences.

I miss being that little boy sometimes.

VII – The Chariot

"This key signifies victory for the triumphant king who has conquered on all planes, particularly those of the mind, science, and growth. The chariot stands for the human personality, which can be a vehicle for the expression of the Self.

If his powers of observation are faulty, superficial, or fearful, the resulting sequence of subconscious reactions is bound to be destructive.

Key 7 means rest and victory, self-discipline and stability. The conqueror may not yet have conquered himself. Here we find both will and knowledge, but there is more desire to attain than proven power for real attainment.

Some occultists divide the Tarot Keys into three groups of seven cards each. In this case the number 7  indicates the Fool has reached an outer triumph and is ready to learn further lessons in the next seven cards.

Divinatory Meaning: Triumph, success, control over the forces of nature–thus triumph over ill health as well as money difficulties or enemies of any sort, including one's own lower animal passions. This is a card of those who achieve greatness. It may also indicate travel in comfort. Mental and physical powers should lead to fulfillment.

Reversed: Decadent desires, possibility of ill health, restlessness and desire for change, an unethical victory."*

 

After a long period of spiritual distance and neglect, I decided to break out the Tarot cards once again to help me figure out where I'm going to go with my life now, what's next in my journey after finally putting an end to the latest chapter of my book.

I managed to pick up the entirety of the deck of cards from the black box that my (late) Chanel sunglasses came in, save one.

After setting down the cards I had grabbed, I picked up the remaining card left behind in the box.

When I turned it over, I involuntarily gasped—it was like being shocked by electricity.

Shocked by the hand of Fate.

- - -

I'm scared.

Now that it's over and done with, what now?

What's next?

I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I had a plan.

I thought I had something for sure, something so solid in its certainty that nothing could have shaken me out of my resolute determination.

Call it cold feet, but now it feels as if the cracks I've managed to overlook thus far in the foundations of my strategies have gradually spiderwebbed to a point too far past the limits of denial.

What the hell do I do now?

* Gray, Eden. A Complete Guide to the Tarot. New York: Bantam, 1972. Print.

T2M #4

1122– 235PM
You aren't the kind of guy who asks for help when he needs it the most.

You know it; everyone knows it.

You're in your own words a "true friend" because you rise to action when a call of duty is sounded.

You make yourself available, you offer your help, you don't stop until the job is done.

That's the kind of person you are, and you have to trust that they know it.

However, they have something you don't: the ability to ask for help when they need it.

How can you fault them for not coming to your side when you don't even let it be known that you need them there?

You cannot be angry at anyone in this situation, not even at yourself, as much as you are looking for someone to blame, a scapegoat to target.

It's not your fault you find it difficult to speak your wants and needs from other people because it has been what you were taught.

The only thing left in this situation is re-learning that it's okay to ask for help when you need it.

By accepting the fact that you cannot be in control of everything, you will make it easier to be able to express your needs.

Just trust that they'll be there to help you fill them.

- - -

A quote comes to mind that sums all that up perfectly.

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you don't let show

If there is a load you have to bear
That you can't carry
I'm right up the road
I'll share your load
If you just call me
-- Bill Withers / Lean on Me

Amen to that. Thank you, Glee.

 

 

just for memory's sake: #3.
1001 – 508PM
Get over yourself.

This is not  about you. This has nothing to do with you.

Your role here is strictly to be his support, not to be noticed or have everyone bask in your glory.

Let him have his turn; lord only knows he deserves it.

And most importantly he deserves to have you push your own ego aside and just be the best friend he needs right now.

0 – The Fool

Had a fortune teller offer me all the answers to my burning questions, I wouldn't know what to ask.

Admittedly, I am the type of person who needs to know how things will play out — whether in regards to a book, a movie, a television series, what have you.

In those terms, I like knowing what to expect. It's not the end result I'm truly concerned with; it's how the journey arrives at its destination that intrigues me the most — the vast difference, the tremendous amount of growth that took place between Point A and Point Z.

As much as I'd like to say the same reasoning applies to my outlook on my life, I truly can't.

I can honestly say that I don't really care how my life will end up—what I'll be doing, who I'll be with, where I'll be.

For one, I don't want to look at my life in terms of a timeline and measure out an end point, a finite moment in my life where I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing I've reached my goal and there is nothing left to do anymore.

It's my mission in life to constantly achieve personal growth, to constantly be motivated by the urge to learn and grow and make myself better.

Setting expectations and striving to meet them to me is like setting a limitation. Once I've met that goal, then what?

Which explains why I like leaving things vague and open-ended—it leaves plenty of room for possibility, for unforeseen events that can throw my plan off course and set me on a new direction, a new opportunity for personal growth.

Sure, it makes life a lot more difficult to measure in terms of success and achievements, but from where am I really basing these units of measurement in the first place?

I've only learned that to compare other people's personal successes and achievements to my own will only lead me to disappointment until I force myself to realize that we are two different people with two different goals, two different mindsets, two different sets of priorities—so why even bother comparing the two?

It's like apples to oranges—there is no common denominator, therefore the comparison is invalid, inappropriate.

Also, I don't care how my life ends up because it really doesn't matter all that much to me.

Granted, I do have a few base requirements:
- I have a job I am absolutely passionate about that makes me want to get out of bed in the morning for
- I have a loving partner who supports and challenges me, and I the same to him
- I have children who I cherish and can teach the lessons I've learned and help spread goodwill
- I live day to day with no regrets in full pursuit of my own happiness

I admit that these requirements are pretty lofty and pretty challenging to measure up to, but at least it gives me something to strive for, something to go after with every day of my life.

And that's all I pretty much need.

Everything else, I've learned to accept as they come to me.

I look forward to meeting what life has to offer me head-on, as they come to me.

I can't allow myself to sit and wait for my fortune to come to fruition.

I'm just putting blind faith into my Fate that everything I ask for will come to me in due time, and everything else will just fall into place.

The "I" in "Team"

I am a hard worker, therefore I will be successful in life.

It's not about doing things the right way anymore.

Doing my job the way I am directed to do so on paper is no longer my focus, because I have proven time and time again I am more than capable of doing so.

The challenge, I know now, is to disregard whether I'm doing my job right or not, and to just simply be a team player.

Enough said.

A Friend in Need is a Friend Who's Fucked

I don't know where things stand, and that to me is what I find the most frustrating.

I'm a dynamic, ever-changing person, so it's stability and consistency that I crave the most— some sort of grounding element that helps pull me back when I start to drift out.

And lately, there hasn't been much of that going for me.

There hasn't been a floor, that aforementioned grounding element to help reel me back in lately, especially during these recent times when I've been feeling all at a loss— lost in myself, lost in my problems, lost in my loneliness.

I've not felt that support I've so desperately seeking, so it feels as if I'm tail-spinning further out into the unknown, into somewhere far away, somewhere unfamiliar, dark in complete isolation with no guide to help bring me back to the life I've known.

Maybe perhaps I'm partly to blame regarding this situation in which I've found myself.

Admittedly, it is not in my nature to reach out when I feel like I am being pulled away.

I expect someone, anyone to take the first step and grab hold of me to pull me back in, bring me back to the world, let me know that I'm safe and supported.

I know it's an unfair expectation to hang around peoples' neck, but it let's me know that I'm not alone in this world, that there is someone out there who cares for me, watching out for me.

But no.

Same shit, different day, I guess.

Every time this had happened, I never got what I had wanted all along: a friend, someone close, someone I trust, to just even drop a line to say Hey, what's going on? Let's go have a cup of coffee and talk.

I don't expect much from anyone, but this is pretty much my only requirement for people who really want to be a true friend in my book.

Someone to just look past all the I'm fines and I'm okays and make the attempt to pry it out of me to see what's really on my mind, and helping me to see that no, I'm not all alone in this world.

But do I ever get that?

Nope.

Nope, nope, nope.

None of that at all.

So can you blame a guy for wallowing in pity after realizing that yeah, he pretty much is all alone in the world? That this feeling of a vast cloud of loneliness hanging above him is in fact justified?

Didn't think so.

So I guess it's up to me again to pull myself out of this sea of misery I'm drowning myself in.

It's up to me yet again to take the responsibility to get myself to buck the fuck up and get on with life, because obviously no one else is gonna risk reaching their hand out to help me up.

And I wonder why I'm so self-sufficient sometimes, so stubbornly independent that I absolutely refuse to ask for help when I know not doing so will only shoot me in the foot.

Can you blame a guy for not trusting anyone to help him out when they haven't given him a reason to trust them in the first place?

I'm tired of this.

I'm tired of investing all my time and energy caring for other people, showing them I'm capable of being a great friend when they never seem to do the same for me in return.

I will drop everything I'm doing at a moment's notice to meet up with you at your insistence.

I will persistently ask you what's wrong until you really tell me what's on your mind.

I will put aside my own problems so that I can genuinely help you out with yours.

I will be the one to reach out and pull you back in when it feels like you're spinning out of control.

And now I won't be the one waiting for your phone call when I'm on the other side of the situation, because in all honesty: what have you done for me lately?

I'm tired of this shit. I don't care anymore.

Deal with your own drama, because you're the one leaving me to deal with my own.

Failure to Launch

I'm feeling trapped.

I feel like I'm stuck in self-destructive cycle, doomed to keep on repeating the same mistakes that tear me to shreds, only to force myself to gather all the strength I've got left in me to pick myself back up, only to allow myself to get knocked back down again.

I don't know where I'm going.

I'm feeling as if I've done it all before, over and over again, and just like all those previous trials and tribulations, I've failed—failed so miserably so many times that it seems that that's the only solution I can arrive at without batting an eye, without even trying.

Maybe that's the problem.

Maybe I'm not even trying.

It feels as if I've been letting myself fall by the wayside so many times already that it's become the go-to answer, the default option I let myself go to when things get rough and situations call for me to step up and be a man.

I'm letting myself lose.

Why am I doing this to myself?

Why am I prioritizing the trivial when all along I know I what I need to do is to just buckle down and get my shit done?

Am I failing on purpose?

Maybe. I wouldn't put it past me, knowing my previous track record concerning this particular modus operandi.

But why?

For attention?

No, I don't need the attention. This isn't a cry for help, at least not the way I see it.

I don't want to draw attention to myself this way by spotlighting the fact that I can't focus, can't do what just needs to get done, can't do what it takes to just move on already.

I'm exhausted. I've been working so much, working my ass off.

Caring too much.

Why am I doing this?

Why am I pouring all my energy into my work when I already know I've proven myself?

Granted, I admit there is still some residual guilt left in me for having thrown it all away in the first place. I've not forgotten what I had to go through to get back to where I am now.

Humiliation aside, I'm glad I went through it. It's humbled me, knocked me down a couple pegs.

It gave me the opportunity to learn from previous mistakes, old failures, and make something better of myself.

And I have. I've proven I was worth the second chance, proved that I can change, that I've grown, that I can do so much better.

Knowing that, being able to acknowledge that, see the difference from who I was to who I'm becoming— that alone has been one of the most truly gratifying gifts I could ever give myself.

But what now?

I don't feel challenged anymore.

I'm not motivated to do anything else, not inspired to bring myself to action for… anything, it feels like.

I hate to say I'm dead inside. I know I'm not.

But something in me feels like it's broken.

Something in me is not clicking, something in me is not fueling the fire to get me off my ass and do something, anything.

I've fallen behind in my schoolwork, which is completely ridiculous and unacceptable, I know, considering the fact that I've only got one class to worry about this time around.

I can't fail it again, can't waste anymore of my time.

But that desire to not fail doesn't seem to be enough for me to motivate myself to do something about it.

I'm normally an action-oriented person.

Something ignites my interest, flames my passion, makes me want to get up and rule the goddamn world.

But I haven't felt that way in quite a while now, and I don't know why.

It feels as if I've fallen back in a slump.

The only consistent thing about me is my erratic mood swings.

I go from happy, inspired, brilliant, jubilant, to melancholic, apathetic, lethargic at the drop of a hat.

One moment I'm up, up, and up, and the next… I don't know what happens or how I get there, but the next thing I know is that I feel like I'm on a tailspin towards depression.

It is that time of the year…

I'm more susceptible to depression 'round this time.

I never do so well in the fall and winter months, when the only feeling I can recognize in me can be summed up as "bleak."

This is when the vices increase, intensify to a new level of addiction I'm normally capable of staving off any other time of the year.

This is when I feel the most empty, when I rediscover the void in my heart still exists and has continued to go on unfulfilled.

So what do I do?

I fill that void within me with more vices, in desperate hopes to plug up the hole that I can't fill, can't even name, can't even fathom how vast and bottomless it is.

More cigarettes, more alcohol, more pharmaceuticals.

More unfulfilled longing for love and intimacy, covered up by casual sex and artificial detachment.

This is the time of year I fuck myself up even more than I already am.

Because I am a fuck up.

No matter how intelligent I can make myself sound, no matter how competent I can portray myself to be, no matter how confident I can carry myself to look,  it still doesn't make up for the fact that I'd rather take the easier route and make a mess of myself than to even try to break out of the self-destructive cycle I've been in since God knows when.

An Itch You Can't Scratch

I'm irritated and I don't know why.

The only emotion that rushes up to meet me when I check in with myself is anger and frustration, the hatred boiling in me so hot that it's manifesting itself through physical symptoms.

I'm itchy and agitated. I'm scratching needlessly, desperately at my skin, my hair, as if I'm digging for something deep within me, something that would provide the answer as to why I feel this way.

It's like a metaphor, with me scratching away, trying to find that spot that would hit me right where it hurts, but would also deliver me the pleasure of satisfaction over having found my mark.

But I'm digging and scratching and I feel like I haven't even begun to have scratched the surface, haven't even begun to discover a ballpark estimate of what it is that's driving me up the wall.

What is it that has got me feeling so hot under the collar?

Better yet, what was it that triggered this seemingly dormant emotion?

I was fine before all this.

I got my shit done, I behaved appropriately (well, as appropriate as I can be.).

I was in every means a normal, functioning member of society.

Until now.

Now I feel like a madman's taken hold of me, holding me captive until I've figured out a way to resolve all of his issues, so vast a task I can't even begin to discover where to start.

Maybe I'm just exhausted.

I've worked my ass off these past few weeks, barely functioning on little to no sleep whatsoever.

I've barely had time for myself, let alone other people. When I wasn't working, I was trying to squeeze in some time for sleep, or forcing myself to get the rest of my responsibilities or errands done, or wasting away all hopes of free time on public transportation.

Now it feels like I'm falling apart, coming undone at the seams right before my very eyes.

What is it that triggered this in me? Why am I now so consumed with my own irritation that I can't even focus on maintaining control of myself?

There are things I know I need to say, words I know I need to verbally express to make me feel more at ease in my situation—but I'm not saying them.

Why?

What are my motives for keeping them to myself, for not letting my needs known?

What exactly am I trying to grasp at here?

I crave a connection.

I'm desperate to find that intimate connection because for some reason, I feel as if possessing that would somehow complete me.

I'm irritated because I don't have it.

And with this irritation, I only push people further away instead of bringing them closer.

I'm putting myself on a destructive cycle here.

I want you, but I want you to keep your distance.

Come closer, stay away.

I'm torn between these two and I don't know which way to go.

Don't even know how to take a step in either direction.

I need space.

I need to distance myself away from everyone.

Better to have nothing than to have just a little of something.

Oh God, I'm falling apart and I don't know how to put myself back together again.

Mission Statement, revised

I'm having an extremely difficult time with the first assignment of the class I'm taking for the third (and hopefully last) time.

Establish your life's mission statement and tailor it to meet the description of your business.

Step one:

To promote the awareness and understanding of the connection between the physical, mental, and spiritual aspects of life.

To teach the world about the integration of body, mind, and spirit.

To increase the efficiency and productivity of an accessible population.

To make the world more productive.

To empower the masses with education and physical prowess.

To eliminate the musculoskeletal hindrances of the working class through therapeutic bodywork and client education. (?)

I guess I'm having a very tough time trying to get past Step One because I've yet to find exactly what it is that makes up the driving force of my life.

I don't know what my purpose in life is, my reason for being here.

And it's driving me nuts.

Not just because I need to know it so I can finally move on with my Career Development project, but because I've spent 22 years of my life living on this earth without ever knowing what it is I want out of it.

I guess I should calm down, take it slow. Be a little more patient with myself, because what 22-year-old really knows what it is exactly that they want to make of their life?

I know I shouldn't expect too much out of myself, but I can't help placing these nearly-impossible expectations around my neck— it's just who I am.

And also, I really want to move on with this fucking assignment.

So what is it exactly that I want to make out of my life?

What is it exactly that gives me that oomph!, that driving passion that makes me can't help but do something?

What is it exactly that puts a fire under my ass and inspires me to do something great, make my mark on this world?

I have so many wants in my my life, so many tasks I want to cross off my life's To-Do list, but I've yet to run across that one entry that makes my heart leap out of my chest, the one I read and immediately know that's it!

The one thing I know for certain is that I don't want to leave this world without ever having made my mark on it.

I want to make an outstanding impact, make the time I spent on this earth mean something before I leave it.

This is the big picture I see that really inspires me to… what, exactly?

I don't know.

I just don't know.

What can I do to leave that kind of impression on this world?

It feels as if there is this large cloud of enigmatic possibility floating above me, so profound I can't even begin to comprehend its existence, and it is just waiting for me to tap into my highest potential so it can finally break and let loose the greatness I've got stored up inside of me.

And all I can do is feel washed up with regret over the fact that I still haven't figured out a way to reach it, to not even begin to have scratched the surface if it after all this time.

It's left me feeling nothing but frustration.

I feel like banging my head against the wall until I force it out of me, just so I can save myself all that time unsuccessfully trying to figure out who I am and what greatness I can achieve.

To answer why I want to achieve such greatness is easy: because I love praise and adoration that would come of possessing such an accomplishment.

I'm only ever truly happy when I have an audience, someone with whom to bask in the glory of my triumphs, the darkness of my failures, the pride in my success.

Perhaps that is my main purpose in life: to have an audience.

It's what I can honestly say makes me truly happy in life.

But how to tailor it to a massage-oriented business…?

Texts To Myself (T2M) #2

0914 – 417PM
I've been feeling so out of touch with the world.

I haven't spent much quality time with my friends lately. The only thing connecting us now is Facebook and sporadic text messages that don't come as often as I'd like.

Even that makes me feel as if our friendship is hanging on by a measly string.

I've gotten so used to spending so much time with them that when we resume our normal distance from each other, my dramatic nature takes over and makes me believe I've been deserted, stranded, abandoned.

I guess this time away from my friends can be considered a blessing in disguise.

It's given me time to myself, time I only see now that I've desperately needed all along.

I need time to recuperate, nurture my strength. Get everything I need done that doesn't require their help.

This period of isolation shouldn't be misconstrued as a dry spell of loneliness, but as a time to get myself back on track and reprioritize my life.




curious for #1?
0829 – 1243AM
Don't punish him for what happened.

It's not his fault; it's your own insecurities coming to the surface, your own jealousy you're coming face to face with and you know it's never going to be pretty.

Allow yourself to recognize that yeah, you are jealous. Then be able to forgive yourself for feeling that way.

The sooner you get over yourself, the sooner you'll enjoy the moment for what it is and leave it at that.

Over(sex)drive

Has sex lost its meaning for me?

It's been a long time since I've had a physical relationship with someone I genuinely cared about, rather than anonymous strangers in unfamiliar places.

It feels as if I've been on autopilot for so long that I'm afraid I've forgotten what it's like to take the wheel and drive to a destination of my own choosing, to a place I've been yearning to go for so long.

I feel nothing but emptiness inside, only a wave of regret washing over me at every attempt I make to fill that void that only results in failure.

Maybe W. was right.

Hiding my expectations and desires from the world doesn't protect me from disappointment; it only leaves me feeling weaker, emptier.

A fraud.

By not claiming my true wants and needs, I will never receive them.

I'm settling.

I'm accepting things way below the standard of my expectations.

No wonder I'm unhappy.

I'm not getting what I want, and I can only blame myself.

I've set my self up for disappointment by trying to protect myself from it.

It feels as if I've been given something completely opposite of what I wanted all along, and it's too late to take it back, too late for a do-over.

My mistake has cost my happiness, but this time I'm willing to fight for it back.

I know what I want now. I've always known.

Now it's just a matter of being honest with myself for wanting it, and not being afraid of going after it.

It's my turn to take the wheel and point it to the direction I want to go this time around.

Apathy

It's hard to care when there's so many things vying for your attention.

You just sort of give up trying to take control of things and say "Fuck it, I'm done."

I hate to be a victim of apathy.

I'm never against taking a stand for what's right.

I don't know how, but I've lost my fight.

Too many things to fight for, I guess I just gave up.

I'm sorry.

I just don't care anymore.