Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The night before...
I'm scared. Thinking about matters of the heart. Hoping I don't get myself killed. Or worse. Mostly the worse part. I have managed to get myself into some, well, interesting situations. Most of them bad. But people like to say I am all the more stronger for it. Five days in Portland have revealed an unfortunate pattern. I have developed a new theory about introducing storylines into the fabric of one's life. Perhaps only piggybacking on my idea that nothing can be changed. Like ignorance of something so apparent, coming to reign over you after that final realization. Like safe bets that cost you everything. Again, I am scared. I take risks with a straight face. My body language indicates a cool, calm, collected exterior of perseverence, or so I have been told. But I am not. This trip means too much to me, with tentacles reaching into places, well, I could make a joke there. My lungs hurt, my mind hurts, my heart hurts most of all; but my liver is still in the running. I so desparately need things to be different. I need this to mean something. I need the struggle to have been worth it. This is for me. The test of my own ability. Not by any one else's standards. Not to prove you are wrong or that I am capable. But that there is a reason for being the wretched of the earth.
Monday, September 21, 2009
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