The Stark Reality ;)

ॐ

We all... get older. [Kitty humiliation.]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhgoizI7m50

A Life Spent

Too true, at times. Bless you, Matthew Good.

The image at his flickr account:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/unicornsof911/193769851/

Losing it on my own terms (stubborn brute)

control...

controlling my own perverted sense of 'losing control'.
changing sides to avoid, not sleeping/not sleeping accompanied or in bed. or are these just prime examples of the... hindsight-bias(?) logic fallacy?

control, and either relinquishing it completely or exercising it hyperviligantly. cycling between the two at this pace is murderous to the senses.

among other things. fuck off, i'll claim pyrrho and stop giving you audience at all. i know it has so much more to do with control than i really know but i will find out... we will find out. then some more kicking and screaming, grinning and bearing it forward towards the bye-bye of that many more bluebirds.

precious and few are the moments that you and your own worst enemy share

Dirty little secrets... [Fantasy]

... we all have them? naïve to think not?

turning around to face them, feigning escape of them (individually, or the whole lot of them), year after year. confessing transgressions (real, not-so-real, bullshit) before, now, to come -

maybe it (that gd song) will get out of my head if i breathe, err, textual life into it) give a little respect TO ME (the overtly repentant reprobate inside always desperate, unpredictable, volatile(...vomit) yet so much more patient than 'the prominent' and at the ready for-

nonsensical ... no, exhaustion. justified. oh, fuck serial nastiness. exhaustion of one does not have to affect all... does it? fighting over the same body and mind... with yourselves. if only- therewasawaytoclubyourselftosleepbutalwaysbeableto- (and you're only just finally picking this one up? if only-

I never believed (at least not consciously, rationally, logically) that i lived too exclusively in a 'fantasy world'/'my own world' or 'daydreamed' excessively. at least not to an extent which had actually become [how long had it been] a truly overtly warped perception - over the course of much prodding exercises (both external and self-effectuated) that one [. . .blah blah]

what is 'if only...' if not just that (I'm a serial offender when it comes to 'if onlys'). now don't be too quick to run on to the 'next inexplicable, seemingly interminable stage' engulfed with that 'eureka'. a titillated bull and restraint. it just doesn't come naturally. but it will. \ tick / tock \ tick / tock

at times neither dirty, little or even secret.

at others, you become the dirty little secret.

arise, period, arise

.

"Trusting this reflects your understanding..."

I shouldn't have looked. It was dad's handwriting in mom's kitchen, though. There's no way I could have stopped myself. It was nothing, really, but it still touched me unduly, jilted my broken heart abruptly and made me realize just how fragile said heart truly is and how I am never aware of that - how I fight constantly and consciously to preserve the umbra I keep that heart tucked into.

I mean, I never saw/sensed a whole lotta love (beeeer-wown - it's really hard to type that sound. i'll get it right next time. hah.) between them the decades they were together and I was around them, but it was still... I guess it reminded me of the pain I saw tear through the two of them, and the utter non-understanding I had (and could have sworn I perceived in them). No, not just perceived - it was BLATANTLY obvious. Neither of them of them understood completely. But one had given up long ago, regardless of being able to explain or express reasons why to anyone. And I respect that, even though I didn't and am not sure now if I understand - and I don't think I really need to understand. In fact, I'm quite sure that I don't. The seasons of (what I assume must have been some sort of mutually-satisfying) courtship up to the eventual rotting and final dissolution of their relationship - it doesn't have a whole lot to do with me. Other than, somehow, I am the 'product' of their love. Idealist, yes, but I think I truly believe as children as the product of love. I don't mean necessarily the specific love between the parents. not sure what I mean.. but just... love. (to me), love is akin to inspiration and creation, as are children. much more distinction can be afforded the two, but for now i leave it at that.

and whipping through the 'where does this leave me and my existence' - the sense of which was already in quite dire crisis by then. i realize the self-centredness of thinking as such. it's how the child sees the world, though. their world. and i am still very much a child in the sense of how i see the world, and how i relate myself to it. i always felt TOO selfish, and these tendencies of mine were always pointed out very obviously, poignantly, painfully, all in hopes that it would STOP me from being that way. it wasn't really SHOWING me how to or why.. or TEACHING me anything. it was just WRONG and therefore should simply CEASE. For an active and thriving mind, that just doesn't cut it. so the heart takes over, i guess, and tries its 'hand' at making sense of it all. and all it can conclude is that 'what i do is wrong, therefore *I* am wrong'.