Sean (darksoul) wrote,

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At a windowsill in Constantinople, our hero sighs to melodies noteful...

This is how I'm feeling and I don't exactly know what to do with it.

It'd be difficult for me to come up with a more poignant way to describe my life right now, so I'll steal a line from Mark Bianchi and move on. It isn't the first time, nor will it be the last. The story has reached a point where we can't follow a particular character anymore. It's time for a new character to come forward, introduce themselves, and tell their own story. In the end, all the characters are me and it's all my story. I just can't pour any more of myself into writing the tale of a man whose plotlines aren't going anywhere. This is what I've been telling myself lately. I believe it more and more every day, even if it doesn't become easier to believe.

Put me on a ship that is sinking
On a voyage to an untamed land
Take away the freedoms I wanted
I understand

I've got issues. A lot of those issues stem from never feeling as though my dad actually cared about me and spending a long number of years feeling as though my mom were the same way since she never really stopped my dad from being verbally and emotionally abusive to his children. Let that stew for a decade or two and it develops into a general inability to let people get close to me because it's hard for me to trust anyone enough to lower my walls for them. God forbid you actually manage to knock down those walls, however, because then I become clingy and needy and bug the crap out of you instead. Ok, so that might be a bit of an exageration. Still, I find it very hard to let go of people whom I genuinely care about and want to let inside of my carefully built fortress. If jumping through a thousand hurdles to get me to lower my defenses wasn't bad enough, I make it even more difficult to get back out. I am an overly forgiving soul to those who matter most to me. You'd think I was adopted given the neurotic abandonment issues I carry about with me.

Played every record that I own today
But the only thing I care about got away

Driving out the ghosts of the past is exceedingly difficult with a brain like mine. My sister and brother-in-law bought Scene-It last week and we've played a few games here and there. They've instituted a house rule that I have to go around the board twice before being allowed to win. I've still won twice with this rule in play. The problem is that my brain starts processing minutia without any real effort. How else could I figure out that a clip with two black characters talking about dancing is How Stella Got Her Groove Back? I've never seen the movie and don't know much about it. And yet. Great trick for trivia games. Not so great when I'm just kicking my feet up and listening to some music. Music has the power to draw things out of me that I want to bury away. The last thing I want to do is admit to myself, much less anyone else, that I miss Jamie ever so painfully. My feelings for her haven't faded, even given the time that's passed since we broke up, much less the time since I told her I can't talk to her anymore. But living in the past and wishing things were different isn't going to make my life any better. That time, that life, it's shelved. Time keeps marching forward. Telling myself this is easy. Getting my brain to stop associating with random lyrics or even with the tone of some songs is somewhat more difficult. Day by day, it get's easier. It is, by far, the least of my brain issues on the matter. Sleeping and having exciting/funny/important news are my bigger issues. The former is a place that I can't easily control what happens. The latter is an instinctual issue due to a year's worth of conditioning. These things will fade with time, regardless of whether or not my innards want that to be the case.

It's hard to remember
We're alive for the first time
It's hard to remember
We're alive for the last time
It's hard to remember
To live before you die
It's hard to remember
That our lives are such a short time
It's hard to remember
When it takes such a long time
It's hard to remember...

Life isn't going too badly. I've got a good chunk of change coming back to me in tax refund money, enough to easily cover tags for my car in April, buy a new digital camera and a coat, and still have some NYC spending money. Work isn't terrible. Sure, I work with ridiculous people who make me crazy, but I still like the actual work that I do. The friends that I talk to are fabulous people. The friends that I don't are good people, too, and maybe some day I'll be able to bring them back into my life. A new niece is on her way in a little over a month. The bills are getting paid. My writing notebook is starting to see usage again. I find that I'm not terrible at Guitar Hero III. All I can do is take things one day at a time and hope for the best, for myself and those that I care about. Life could always be better, but it could always be much much worse. I'll get by with how things are right now.

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