Time...

I've noticed through out all my blog reading that everyone seems to have their own expression with how they write. I know that's a pretty obvious statement since everyone has their own personality. It's rather intimidating. Everyone does such a good job of stringing together their thoughts, making the whole thing both poetic and coherent. My enteries never turn out as such. They are like a cluttered diary. It feels forced like i'm trying to prove something with my writing. I guess I'm like the bad authors I've come to hate for their forcing of specific details, down to the elaborate and oh so fake, story line. Oh well.

Christmas came and went. It never seems to meet the hype that it gets. Perhaps that's must for me though. I think what kills me is my utter lack of truly being able to hold myself back from getting attached. I'm so caught up in trying to make all these memories last that I spend more time being depressed that nothigns the same instead of enjoying the precious feeling moments.

This is what I've discovered about myself. I'm a horrible flake and if you asked anyone they would agree. I bail on the simplest and least stressful things, as well as, the things that seem to matter most. You may ask why I continue to do so even though I recognize this flaw. The answer is quiet blatently that I can't help it. It's a horrible defense mechanism that I've some how built in to myself. I'm terrified of getting attached and having everything go to shit. I think for normal people this isn't such a fault, they just turn into an asshole and never let anyone get close. However, for whatever brilliant combination of God, genetics, nature, and my environment, I get attached to easily and so fast that being hurt is enevitable. I literally get sad over running into a complete stranger and never being able to see that person again. Pathetic.

On top of all this, I have some inner struggle between hating the universe and loving everything about it. This makes it completely impossible for me to be anything but briefly happy. I live a tortured cycle of A) being depressed because nothing stays the same and everything changes, B) I recognize A and try to avoid it, C) fail miserably at B and end back at A.

Thus, the only control I feel have over myself and of time is to flake or try to hold myself back. I realize the irony of this because it costs me alot of fun experiences. What's more painful in the grand scheme of things though? When we look back in reflection of our lives, we remember either our happy moments or our sad moments. Both of these are usually painful. Either because we can't change what made us sad or because we no longer can experience our happy ones (we can't relive them). Rarely, do we ever remember the nights spent sitting alone in our rooms playing xbox. So now I've convinced myself the only true way of not being miserable in the future is to not do anything in the present. It'll backfire.

So, this, like most of my problems all comes about because of one thing. I think too much. It's great because it saves me alot of hassel but at the same time it continuely effs me over so hard I feel like I've just taken two different showers in prison. My poor ass.

I guess this just makes it all the more obvious to recognize that life is fleeting, beautiful, and utterly tragic. That is why we connect with art that reminds us of ourselves. We hope that in some small way that our memories and tragic existence last in some small way. Whether it's a book, a song, a movie, a painting, or a picture, or any medium of art. Hell, that's why we blog.

So, what do I learn from all this after writing it down in a brief entry that doesn't possibly touch the inner turmoil and effed up life I think I live? That I seriously want to have some significance in life. I want the fact that I used to race Big Wheels around my neighborhood with my next year neighbor to matter. I want the morning I woke up to find my dog Sunny died to make a mark somewhere. I want the lunch that I spent reading Cold Sassy Tree alone on the football stadium bleachers to be a defining event in the vast infinity of time..... to sum it all up

Time: Isn't it a Bitch?

My inferno

Ugh. 2:11 on a Monday morning. I'm caught staring out the frosted window out to the street. The streetlights reflect off the snow and the moon is hidden by thick clouds. There is a chill in the air, and it taktes me back to places I don't want to go...

Three years ago, almost to the day, I stood staring out the same window. Snow was falling then. It covered everything in soft white blankets. I spent the night writing about how it made me felt. It wasn't honest though, it was more of just a motivation for what was to come. I was going to be shipped out to Iowa. I was terrified. I still am terrified.

I remember the morning I was to enter the MTC. I hadn't slept at all that night. My beautiful friend Cortni had spent the whole night up with me, texting me. She was amazing. I miss her. That morning, I was wide awake and scared shitless. I joked with my mother about letting me stay home. I was begging her inside to let me. That's where it all started. I tried to be too strong and do somethign I wasn't ready for.

3 years later, i'm slowly recovering. It's painful. My courage, my strength, my whimsy, they are all like shattered windows, clumsly put back together with some an awful glue job. I get bye though. I just keep breathing. I'd like to say that the effect has worn off and that somehow I am normal again. I am for the most part. I have horrible weak moments though. The terrified feelings i felt that cold December morning leak back into th eback of my mind. It's crippling when it happens. I have to start all over again after each episode.

So what do i have to say about it now, 3 years later, at 2 am, on a cold December morning? Absolutely nothing. I feel like I am still as lost as I have ever been. The days have progressed, i'm further done with my schooling but I have no direction. It terrifies me. My friends are all getting married and having kids......I don't even have a girlfriend....I haven't had a girlfriend in years.

Honestly, to be perfectly frank, I don't think I could handle one either. I'm so scared I'd mess up. I'm scared of messing up again because I never want to go through another Iowa situation ever again. I don't want to fall in love and have all that pressure and not know what the hell i'm going to do. Falling in love shouldn't be like that, it should be easy. The easiest thing in the world, I'm scared that in my position with my history it'll just become work.

How the hell is everyone else ready to get married and i'm scared to even say the word. i want to get married, more than any of them i think. I want that, I want kids. I look at my friends daughter, Amanda....she's beautiful. She's adorable. I want that. I'm just too scared to take the shot.

I'm not ready.

Not being ready is almost as terrifying as being ready....

Can I go to sleep now please? Could I please just go back to that night 3 years ago and lay softly in the think white blankets of snow? Maybe never take the leap.....

Hindsight is always 20/20 though. 3 years ago i tripped and fell on my own blade. I wish God had finished the job then and there..... Cause the healing process hurts.

It hurts.

"Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence for my old father, nor due affliction which joyous should have made Penolope, could overcome within me the desre I had to be experienced of the world, and of the vice, and of the virtue of mankind...." - Dante's Inferno