I want to sit and clack out a long journal.

Lies, like all sin, come to light sooner or later.

I feel as though I am a dog. My master puts me on a chain and leaves me tied to his right hand. I am free to do what I please, but my master has just jerked on my chain as though to tell me I've gone far enough.

How does one serve a master he does not know?

Talk to me, anyone, if you get a spare moment. Call me. Note me. Whatever. I have off for several days (Saturday through Wednesday), and I'll be home most of them. I could do with a friend right now.

Not one of you commented on my last journal.

----


The roads are the dustiest
The winds are the gustiest
The gates are the rustiest
The pies are the crustiest
The songs the lustiest
The friends the trustiest

Waaay back home (back home!)

The trees are the sappiest
The days are the nappiest
The dogs are the yappiest
The kids are the scrappiest
The jokes the snappiest
The folks the happiest

Waaay back home
Dont' know why I left the homestead
I really must confess
I'm a weary exile
Singing my song of lone-li-ness

The grass is the springiest
The bees are the stingiest
The birds are the wingiest
The bells are the ringiest (the hearts...)
The hearts the singiest (the arms...)
The arms the clingiest

Waaay back home

(What about the sun?)
The sun's the blaziest (and the fields?)
Field's the daisiest (and the cows?
Cows the graziest (and the help?)
The help's the laziest.
The boys (are the witiest)
The girls (are the prettiest)

Waaay back home

(The pigs are the snootiest)
(The owls are the hootiest)
The plants the fruitiest
Stars the shootiest
(The grins the funniest)
The smiles the sunniest

Waaay back home
Dont' know why I left the homestead
I really must confess
I'm a weary exile
Singing my song of lone-li-ness

The food is the spreadiest
The wine is the headiest
The pals are the readiest
The gals are the steadiest
The love the liveliest
The life the loveliest

Waaay back (Waaay back)
Waaay back Home (No place like home)
Sweeeet home

First of all. If you're reading this, and you think its about you. It's not. Calm yourself.

I'm burning bridges. Left and right, shoving people out of my life. Pushing them away, telling them off. And I know myself. I push people away when I start thinking about killing myself.

But no, no, that isn't it.

I've changed. I look around, and I fear that I am changing. But the reality of it is that I'm sick of life. I'm sick of you all.

Redundant. With your expectations of me that are far from realistic. I'm an evil man. Love me as I am, damn you, or don't love me at all.

This is a call. To all of you. If you have a problem with me, with your awful stereotypes and expectations. Women who date me hope to change me. (And what a forlorn hope THAT is) Men who know me begin to hate me.

My life is below-par. And it's not going to change anytime soon.

--------------

How do you tell someone to get out of your life? How do you say goodbye? Its harder than I thought.

For a guy who is perceived as a heartless wretch, I'm actually quite a nice guy. It's pretty conflicting, actually. I have a moral code, and I'll do most anything for anyone anytime. But cross me, and I'm an unrelenting bastard who will make every aspect of your life miserable. Good stuff, right? I know.

So, as I stumble through this woman-filled, alcohol sipping life (which is clouded with cigarette smoke) I feel myself outgrowing people. And even if not outgrowing, there are some people I've let fall by the wayside. I'm moving, changing slightly. I have few life goals, but some people just plain don't fit.

How do you say goodbye without crushing someone? Without breaking hearts, and ruining lengthy friendships? Is there a way to say goodbye without destroying someone? Keep in mind I don't know what tact is.

And so I sit here again, quite miserable as I always seem to be, and the same thought comes to mind.

There is no catharsis.

If you read this, and thought I was talking about you, you're wrong. Don't worry so much.


------

On a random other note. Something happened today, in my life. Something wonderful (almost wonderful). And I feel like I actually see sunshine peeking through the clouds of my life. People in my life make me feel loved. Work became a little less burdensome. And my mind was cleared of all the violent, criminal thoughts that normally plague me. Life is... (dare I say good?) par. Like is simply par.

I've discovered something else... regarding my faith.

Hell is the eternal separation from God.

How different is that from where I stand now? Torturous lakes of fire, aside. I am separated from God now. By my own hand, I'm sure. But is Hell not separation by our own decisions?

I have no desire to go to Hell.

Really.

But God is not real in my life. I do not feel him.

I acknowledge that He is creator. I see him when the wind blows through a tree, or when I look at an anatomy chart. I hear him from Joe's lips. I see him glimmer in Ruth's eyes.

I do not know the King of all.

Its been a while since I updated. And look at what came from it.

Really, and I mention this for a third time just because I don't want ten notes of concern. If you fear this is about you, I assure you it is not.

Normal people. They are the minority.

Listen to the wind. Let the wind wash the whole world away. What do you hear?

I've found myself meditating as of late. Quiet, late nights, in the dark. Soft hum of the fan or air-conditioner. My heart beating drowns out all else. And do you know what thoughts come?

I hear voices. Conversations. I snap in tune with them halfway through a conversation. I'm not kidding. They talk. It's arguments and talk about random things. Every day life. Weather, stocks, death, murder, rape, sex. It all comes back to darkness.

Sin. I am such.

Forgive me.

Goodnight, beloved audience. I hope you fare well.

βλεπομεν γαρ αρτι δι εσοπτρου εν αινιγματι.


Shall we hold hands and walk through the nightmare? Its not as simple as one would think.

But then I've reasoned my way through insanity, mastered the idea of patience, and had divinity play kind fortune on my soul.

o_o Open your eyes that you may see.

A strange experience has just taught me two things about myself.

One, I cannot efficiently scale a chest-high chain-link fence at Five in the morning.

And Two (The more important thing), God can use me, even in a shattered, sleep deprived state. Even with a bad prayer life and not much of a walk.


So, I was standing outside at five in the morning. I'm sorry to say I was smoking, at the time. The last few days have really been burdening me, with things that I'll keep to myself rather than burdening you all with the burden that others place on me. Yeah. Decipher that. Can you tell I'm rather tired?

Actually, I was finished smoking. I turned to walk back into my kitchen (that'd be the back door for those of you not looking at blueprints), and I hear a woman sob. I wasn't sure what that was, as it resembled a noise one only commonly hears during sex. It was a desperate, loud cry. The sort that borders a cry of delight and a loud sob of despair. So I stopped abruptly, and strained to hear.

"Fuck him. You always do this. Why? Why, God why." Literally word for word of what I heard.

I paused, and turned back to the kennel I'd been standing in. A tall, overlly thin red-haired girl walked by the front of my house. She was bundled up in a heavy jacket (it was snowing when I came outside, though it wasn't anymore.) She continued on, literally yelling profanities in the otherwise silent morning. I listened, as she walked by.

She was screaming and crying. I recognized her. I see her now and again, walking the streets late at night, or riding a bike randomly through town. Up until then I thought she might be a crazy person, but in a small town like this, you don't often see the crazies wandering the streets ranting to themselves. No, they tend to stay indoors and drink.

I remembered her from my boyhood, anyway, back when she was a sweet girl. And I mean the sweetest girl you could ever know. Rosy cheeks, long red hair, all that jazz. She must be seven or eight years older than I am. She was idolized by the boys I ran around with in kindergarten (They were all older boys, most of which are now, if I'm not mistaken in prison, prison, and someplace unknown respectively. Kenny, Marty, And Billy. No, not kidding.) They only liked me because I had a basketball net in my yard.

Anywho, this woman, the name of which I don't recall, developed a drug problem. I remember people talking about her when I got to highschool, as she is a rather common pale face in our town. Sex for drugs. Sex for alcohol. Sex for pretty much anything.

I don't know why, but I hopped over the fence and sprinted to the sidewalk. I followed her for a while, on the opposite side of the street. I just wanted to hear what she said, I guess, to try and understand the situation.

Regardless, I eventually called out to her and asked if she was okay. (And so I crossed to talk with her) She said that she was fine, but she had obviously been drinking and was pretty clearly not 'fine'. I have a friend who despises that word and the lie that it often is in regard to status.

I probed a bit, and she about fell to pieces. I'm certain she didn't recognize me and hell I can barely remember her name, but she started weeping in my arms. I'm sure this was somewhat due to her drinking, but whatever?

She explained that she is pregnant, or rather was, as she had lost the baby. It was bore to a douchebag that used her for sex (surprise). She said that he was almost certainly the cause of the baby's death as he would hit her, and she'd fallen down the stairs as a result. She said he was a bastard, and that he would leave her if she pursued any means to leaving him or fighting the abuse. And she apparently 'can't live without him'.

She didn't understand what kind of God would do this to her. Why any God would create a woman to endure what she's endured. I'm not defending her choices. The path she chose, she chose, and none of us, save her and God know where she came from, why she made the choices she did, or what pushed her there.

Why would God give her a child, which she had put in her mind, it seemed, as an escape from the wretched world she finds herself in, only to take it away? That kid seemed to be a way for her to escape. She repeatedly made claims that she would have changed her lifestyle, and done her best to give that kid a life better than her own. Again and again she said that.

And we came to her house (I presume. That's where I always see her and the dipshit she lives with.) She apologized for crying at me (The way she did so was at least a sign that she was not whole-heartedly drunk or free of inhibitions.). All I could tell her was that its never too late to change and move away from the lifestyle she leads.

I told her of the woman's shelter I'd spent part of my childhood in. I explained to her that no woman should be abused and blamed and crushed. I explained to her that God, whether she wanted to realize it or not, changes lives. I told her a bit of my life, and my change.

And I gave her directions to my church. I offered her that much, at least. Honestly, I was really disappointed that I didn't have more to say (I often find myself feeling that way in a counsel-type situation). I wish that I could recall her name, or even know if she lived there. Or even if she was the same girl I thought she was. It doesn't matter, really, I guess. I'm sure she'd appreciate the prayer, even if you don't know her name.

I wanted to cry with her. Empathy sucks, sometimes. I saw my mother. I saw Crystal, a girl I dated in high school. Named after the drug her parents made in their kitchen. Giving blowjobs for pot. And I saw me.

Broken, feeling like God isn't fair. I saw a child. I saw myself.

Pray for her.

And for the record, I nearly chipped a tooth climbing back over my fence. Hooray for brick columns.