Everyone and everything is becoming a trivial curiosity. It's not that bad really. But somehow everything just distracts me, the news of the Radio when I ride a cab, the occasional stranger with a story to tell, the roach who flew on my arm last night, the smoked out room a block from i'm typing this, the nice cold beer that's aching to get into my belly.. Everything. And somehow I just want to focus, find my center, and become less abstract.

I wonder what you're doing now.

I'm really wondering right now. Wow, you really drew me in. But hey, i'm beggining to regain my steady pulse. Moving along the coastline of alternative discoveries. We are like a magical anorexia trapped in unrelated words. Just thrashing along the superhighway that is my system. I see things bouncing off the walls and see my own reflection to the vaguely silvery metallic lamp. The music reverberates inside my veins while a black ant dances on my left hand. Everything's trying to gesture with its presence but reality would not permit it to begin its motion. What's up with you right now. I want to call you just to know what your doing. But wait, I forgot, you're no longer my girlfriend. But hey, like I said, you really drew me in.

Life is starting to appear like it's always trying to draw inwards. Like every circumstance I stand now seems like a reflection of another circumstance. Our needs are unsatisfied and we draw to each other along intervals, simulating our freedoms when we are in a crowded bin. Some of us want to get stoned so that sleeping is no problem. Now I understand. And all this time I was a fucking insomniac. We belonged to that same group who hated the night when our room closes in on us. You hated that isolation when we were together. I guess that's an integral part of you. That constant fear from being alone. I would have wanted things to be better. But I just couldn't trust you anymore. You wouldn't understand completely. But it happens whenever you say something, you wouldn't have the ability to stand by it. Everything becomes the movement of the whim. I was a whim to you. I don't know if you've noticed. I felt like I was just playing a part. Playing a part in your life. This is my life. This is my show, too, you know? I became a being that revolved around you. I just enjoyed the ride. But when I want to pursue my own desires, I felt constrained. Like things become complicated.

I hated class again. I felt like I was ready when I entered the room. But I wasn't. My fucking heart skipped when the professor said that we would be taking up something else! What a bum-shot. I hate it.

I tried all day to resist the impulse to communicate with you.

I broke it though, when I felt the impulse to call you..

When I continously ignore my impulses, I become used to it. Quitting you was like quitting smoking, except I haven't tried quitting smoking. But at least I know what it's like to stop a bad habit. I somehow know that you are volatile when you would call me at night for something that my friend's friend has said and are so furiously angry about it as if I did it.

I wonder why you have to be so angry at the World. You feel as if, somehow, a wrong is being done to you in every moment. Somehow I would begin to feel that way sometime.

At some point I began to wonder why I stayed with you. And I began to form concrete reasons. I realize that, at some point in time, you stopped trying to do that. Funny, that's what you said. You said you stayed with me because I was funny. Obviously, you don't know me. I can't imagine a sadder statement than that.

I may not be able to gather enough courage to actually let you read this post. There came a point when you made it clear to me that I can't be completely honest with you. Just as I made it clear at some point that you can't be completely honest with me.

The closer we became, the more friction we experienced from each other. I don't know, sometimes I would ignite myself, sometimes you would act like a brat. I have never felt an extensive negative feeling of anger, resentment, insecurity, but with you.

I would have to thank you for those emotional volatilities, though. With you, I have reached the height of passion. We were often heated, and our fires have led us to our own destruction. IT's funny, remember that panda cartoon we watched? It said, Love will tear us apart. It really did.

I also thought about how we constantly influenced each other. At some point, it was as if we had switched personalities. That was some peculiar phenomenon. But we both began to notice it when i would regularly shave, cut my hair, and take showers more than the usual. That switching scared the both of us. Particularly you. Because for the most part, i thought it was cute.

I often think to myself : had we not been too close, had we not been to familiar, we would have been still together. Or maybe not. I think it would be pointless to speculate some thing we could have done before.

Have I told you that I disposed of all our notes? Those little insignificant things that grew too old for you?

You also knew how to throw around painful words. You said you were bored. You said you deserved better. You said I make you feel dispensable. You said I don't pay attention. You said I was funny.

You knew how to do it with artful cruelty.

I can't really say that I suffered to an extreme extent. But the whirlwind of emotions that I feel now when you tell me that you love me, it's just staggering. Why do you have to say that? You broke up with me and yet you continually try to wrap your chains around my humanity. You are just around. You are just too much a part of my life now.

The truth of it also is that it was my doing.

Now I don't care much about things anymore.

When you first broke up with me, I already told you that whatever I gave to you, it was something I reserved for ONE person only. I meant that.

Now you have it.

That thing, whatever it is, I don't recognize it anymore. In fact, after our relationship, I don't recognize myself anymore.

I can't say I really understand what's going on. But when I search my surroundings for some kind of answer to whatever it is that befuddles me right now, I end up being more confused.

You, you were an addiction like many of my many addictions. I took you in large doses and now I am in dire need of some kind of rehabliitation.

And yet you say you love me. I constantly ask myself what you mean when you say that. And I wanna ask you this question, what do you want from me? And further questions like, what do you get, etc. Because, as far as I remember, we have clearly established that with you, love is definitely not enough.

Oh Well, fuck the answers.

And besides, I'm back to my normal self again.

Once in a while, a devil in my ear would whisper and would lead me knocking on your door. I hope that devil goes away. Because honestly, I fel like I'm possessed when I do that.

I want to be free. I really want to be free. But I feel a dark stab of thorns to my side. I want to be free. Now I understand what drove Icarus to flight.

For the countless realizations you have empowered me to think. I thank you. For the precious lines of poetry that I have spun, I thank you as well.

As far as we all know, we only know that love is real when there is pain involved. Our twisted humanity lays down such requirements. Our body rquires external stimuli of varying pain to assure us that we are alive. And the same concept applies to love.

I wish you broke me with only one stroke. I simply wish that you hadn't done it slowly, and unintentionally, with an anti-climactic coup de grace.

Now look where we are? We can't really say that our hearts are broken. Yet we can't even say that we are really free.

Or Maybe it's just me.

whatever it is. I just want to say that i've had enough.

I'm glad we met at the wrong time. Had it been the right time, i would have been soul-less by now.

It's been too long.

Law School and Work and my ex-Girlfriend occupied me.

Now I am back.

With the criss-crossing of my normally aimless thoughts, I am again a fkn deviant. And that rocks. I stored all my writings in a box of old chocolates, maybe it's time to post again. Or something like that. Too bad i wasn't able to catch up with a lot of my fellow deviants.

Oh well. Art rocks. It's in every corner, road sign and book. It's out there. And we all ingest art now. Some of us, of course, mindlessly do.

I've fallen in love with cognitive dissonance but I am now spurning out of my system. I know my desk still looks like a den for mad minds, but that's the perfect setting for artful disaster.

My thoughts have reached some kind of brink. The border of insanity is unpredictable. But like rubber balls we bounce back. Ready to be hurled back again.

That's it.

I'm back.

My camera's fixed! yay!

I'm semi-automatic with this one.

I'm still writing though, my first love will always be my one true love.

or whatever.

ei, i have a blog, too. - [link]