_round_here_she's_always_on_my_mind methinx . 041006 ... (tuesday) and she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land just like she's walking on a wire in the circus 050421 ... Splinty Counting Crows are beautiful 050421 ... Freak ...she knows shes more than just a little misunderstood, she has trouble acting normal when shes nervous... 050421 ... gja we stay up very very late 070301 ... Risen I feel taken. As though I have a lover, a girlfriend, a wife. Which is ironic, given that I haven't so much as kissed someone in years. It is like a half-remembered dream. When you wake up, you KNOW something, but you've forgotten the logic. It is almost there, right on the edge of your mind. The tip of your tongue. Is it even about a person? An actual "she"? Maybe, my whole life, all it's been about is chasing a feeling I think I used to have. Trying to find the formula. The click. The thing which makes me feel it again. It would explain a lot. The whirlwind of relationship after relationship, never being content with what I had, never sticking with one person for long, always thinking the grass is greener somewhere else. Then later, when I realised how much that hurt people, and tried to stay still, there was always something marring the stillness. Always an itch at the back of my mind. This isn't right. This won't last. The storm is coming. The storm always comes, eventually. It used to be the storm of self-destruction I left in my wake. Now, it is different entirely. The storm is the inevitable thing which follows me around and tells me that I will never, ever, deserve happiness. Peace. Rest. Now I don't even deserve a pain free day a year. I don't deserve to go outside. I don't deserve to have friends. I don't deserve a diagnosis, or a cure. I have 5% left of who I used to be 6 years ago, maybe. I am a shell. I live in what is basically solitary confinement. Except, when you have this many ghosts, you're never really alone. 170414 ... ever dumbening . 170414 ... .flowerock she was frail, her black hair stringy and long covering her face as she flailed in a rage. her tears made her hair stick to her face. She had something in her hands, a piece of shattered mirror comes to mind but I don't know if that's what it really was. she screamed at me, why are you doing this? why are you killing me? you're doing this to us! and she killed me, there was blood everywhere, I couldn't stop her, I don't remember if I tried. it was one of the worst and most real dreams I've had. I wonder still if it was really the soul of the potential life that was trying to grow inside of me. I just vacuumed her out and they threw her in the garbage. I might never know. but I often see her. I worry she'll kill anything that tries to grow there in the future. it's been... 6 or more years. 170415 what's it to you? who go blather from