for the first time in a long time I am drunk, well at least tipsey, no more like drunk....... there is a screaming in my head and my heart, I go to great lengths to drown it out, all the time thinking all the time doing all the time listening to stories, the telivission, my books, anything I can to take myself out of my self

it is a scream that laments lost friends lost family lost opertunity.... I have been plaged this early morning with what ifs.....what if I had seen love sooner, what if I had payed more attention in the old days the way olden days back at 434, I often wonder if I missed then what I crave now

but I probably should not even write this down for people to see, as I was once so fond of saying some things are better unwritten and better unsaid.

Damn I am becoming a drama queen

as I sit here for I have lost track of how long i beguin to think I should not post this, but I made a promis to myself long ago when I started this journal that I would never erase what was written for that is to deny the moment, the present the very reason I created this travesty to have somewhere to put the thoughts that can not stay in my head for they might drive me mad, some where to put the lost hopes and dreams, somw where to spew forth the thoughts of my life the sorrow the trimph the joy the hate, the regret, and OH YES I do regret though that is one thing that I know is more dangerous than any other I try to live without regret but I am far from perfect and God knows that is an understatement if ever there was one.


I hate being alone, but I have yet to find the person who has the means motive and opertunity to stay with me, and I have yet to meet a person that I have means motive and opertunity to stay with.

Dreams with in dreams founded on wishes that are no more than the wings of sheep, or the legs of fish,

life is but a player who frets and struts his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more
a tle told by an Idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing and yet I continue to creep on through tommorow and tommorow and tommorow to stuborn to go gently into that good night, or is it just afrade, afrade of everything, do I shut my self away in my little world of stories and characters beacuse they are safer than people, do I run from attachment beacuse I know it hurts is it my own doing that I am right now at this moment so alone and disconnected from those I lve and those that I could love DOES it even matter why it has happened if all I need do is make a choice to change things

am I a masochists who seeks out pain, is this destiny or just chance or am i just as crazy and stupid that I hit my thumb with the perverbal hammer and say that hurts, only to do it again a few moments later, and still be supprised at the pain, am i expecting differnt results from the same action

and i take no comfort in the pain and isolation of my pittiful meaningless existance that alberqueque exists

food has lost is flavor and the wine is no longer sweet I stare in self loathing into the mirror one moment only to be overtaken by a narcissistic pride the next

Hate love Love hate always spinning always moveing changing I have no handel anymore and I think that the only handel I ever had was one made of pure fancy less than smoke and mirrors

I question not reality for who can answer that question, i question myself and find that the only one who can know the answeres not only does not knowthme but does not give a fuck if they are ever found

there is a war in my mind and soul it was once simply between doing what I wanted and doing what was right........... now I have trouble seeing the difference but I fight on fighting me

sweet sweet oblivion of sleep, of a rest with out the dreams of uending war, the pine and suffering, the constant struggle that leaves me more exhausted after a nights sleep than when I went to bed

I scream for help, only to find that there is no I to scream

I wish I were stupid, I wish I were smarter I wish so manything things and teh grass is always greener over there and wisdom always looks bigger the further away it is

should I be afrade that facts no longer make sence but a contradiction illuminate my world

and Schmendrick that poor backwards magician who power had to work in its own way, that he was curse with immortality untill he coudl figure it out, but no I have no such curse or gift and I know that long before I know what i need to do, the time will have past long before I come to any power I will have died of old age,

I hurt from head to toe, from soul to spirit the physical the mental the emotional all of it hurts, but out of momentum or pigheadedness I continue

Every moment I have the choice of taking the next breath or giving up, and never will I b able to give up, ther eis no rest for the wicked the weary or even the angelic but no one knows what it is all for and the most cynical part of me says it would not matter even if I did know

EXISTENTIAL CRISESES SUCK