Tired. Weary.
Just came home from night study with Joel. Studied. That is good.
As in a few more weeks. No time left. Tommorrow is an intense day. Study.
Tired. I really don’t want to think about it anymore.
Should revise my lessons on letting go.
Really would be useful.
That’s what being human is all about.
Doing meaningless things.
And so… I type on.
Got this phrase from shoes.
“You don’t need sex. Life fucks you up everyday.”
Indeed. ‘Tis true.
Moving towards the depressive side.
Please close the window if you’re feeling happy and unburdened.
I’m a bad son.
A bad brother.
A bad friend.
A bad student.
A bad musician.
A bad dancer.
A bad poet.
A bad person.
That about sums things up.
I am feeling so torn. And there’s nothing i can do.
I don’t want to type anymore. Whats the point in it?
My words will all fade into Time.
Upon the shoulders of my rankled soul to bear
Some tenacious load that tests my will to dare.
By every tortured step I take
Another inch of progress that I make.
Bars of light upon the muddie’d ground to rake
Searching, seeing, perceiving; Even the dying leaves that flake.
Not for the sake of some luminous angel then would I permit,
The haven of my little cave ‘neath the Earth’s whit.
In every spot that the curs’d light has lit,
Even the very darkest holes and pits,
Reveals with depth all souls’ dispers’d
And proceeds, within Death’s hold, to immerse.
The souls, the souls, an age-old curse.
Naught to be broken, not by any purse.
Flee, flounder, run or hide
Away, away, before the moon-tide.
I’m a really bad person.
Felt depressed again. About snow mountain. And me not going to be able to go. There isn’t even a sliver of hope. Worst off. Read shoes’ blog. About how they’d all be better friends and what-not if they made it for the XP together.
Catalyst for depression.
She redeemed herself today though. Not that i’m blaming her. I’m just wallowing in self pity and uselessness. I’m not the Spartan i was. I must redeem MYSELF from this transgression of self. She hung around me when the worst of my temper got out. It was bad, worst so far. Embarassing. Stupid. Thank you God, for GSX.
That was probably the moment i needed dorville the most.
I hate myself for hurting the people i love.
And i love them so much.
All of them.
And that makes the pain hurt even worse.
Oh God, I pray. Help me to let go.
I need to be who i am, and what i am, in the best way that i can.
I need to build myself from the roots up again. one more time.
I logged in and realised i had nothing much to say. So typical.
Having canned soup.
Alone.
At home.
Interestingly deprived of any companionship possible.
No outing with Rod and Nicole.
No frisbee.
Thank God. No blood. Yet.
And somehow, i’m secretly wishing there was.
Make things a little less dull.
And so. It’s Saturday.
Thought the performance was today. Felt like a fool when shoes told me it’s next saturday.
Supposed to meet up with Joel and shoes to go to SPCA.
Not sure if i can make it.
After my yelling session which led to my ‘bleeding spout’, my political position is such that i’m quite immobile. Hope i still get to go for mass with nicole and rod though.
Hope
Man’s Gift.
Man’s Curse.
Hope leads to expectations.
Expectations, or the failure of fulfillment, leads to disappointment.
Disappointment leads to self-recrimination.
Which in turn may lead to self-directed rage and hate.
Self- Damnation.
Interesting flip of the coin.
Unwilling to venture forth,
My mind siddles like a misbegotten pup.
Driving foam from the Will; Filled with troth,
He who desires to go no-where, but up.
Whining and pining for a Past,
Shivering like a living bundle of filth.
A remnant of times; Times like a Mast.
Broken heights held to the ground in bonds; Held fast.
Against the whips of the slave-drivers,
Lashing forth forked tongues of Pain,
I miss the dawn; Beguiled by liars
That Apollo creeps from the West, albeit in vain.
Went out with shoes today for lunch. Met one of her friends, Josh. He’s a nice guy. He’s also one of the dancers for Saturday’s performance. Can’t wait to see him in action. Enjoyed the outing. Talked about shoes’ ‘physical imperfections’ on the ride back. I don’t think her thighs are fat. Or her chin too sharp. It’s fine. But to each their own.
Tendon injury on right index finger. Took me long enough to realise what it was. Either got it from frisbee or bboying. More likely it was frisbee.
Feeling random urges to dance now a days. I predict dark clouds in my near-future. And i know what’ll be the cause of it.
Just hope i’ve matured enough to deal with such emotions.
Trashy, angsty nonsense that i keep feeling is starting to irritate me. I shall do away with them the first instance that i can.
The ability to love is dictated by the performance of an irrational act for the rational benefit of another person/entity.
Denying love, acknowledgement, or the ability to reciprocate such emotions is by far, the greatest cruelty of Man.
Just realised i’ve been writing posts in monotone.
Nice.
I wish i was a better master of self.
The Raven's Craven Haven 