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SPRING BREAK 2k2! Oh yeah!
2002-04-01 - 12:52 a.m.

I wrote this stuff on paper over the break...........like to hear it, here it go..........

Wednesday

I saw something beautiful almost fall apart today. I saw the raw power of my sadness. I saw why I needed to change. Everything between us is unsettling, even the air. Movements are herky-jerky, sentences frantically edited, actions severly scrutinized. Two souls, once so care-free and expressive now speak in coded language, language not yet written from precise calculation based in nothing. The sort of uneasiness where you run and not stick around for fireworks. I glanced out the front door many occasions, "Freedom" I must of first thought, but I soon realized enough what I wanted to run from is buried deep beneath my skin. I still looked over on and off inbetween watching Henry, Anaus, and Joon's love triangle unfold on the TV. The corner of Congress and Freedom never looked so seductive. It seemed if I put on my hoodie and shoes on and went out on the other side of that screen door, within the first inhalation of that mild spring air a cheesy beer commercial would unfold and I'd be whisked away to Figi with some bikini team tending to my every need, erasing my hurt whimsically in a blur. I left eventually, but only when she had to compose herself for class. It was a chilly walk, where I past one of our fondest memories together, followed by me, here writing and eating dinner alone at my mother's old glass kitchen table while watching John kill people in slow motion in his video game on the big screen in the living room.

I guess her and I wanted certain things. Me, I wanted to hold her. Her, I'm guessing, wanted normalcy, freedom, comfort, relief. I felt lost, my mind was pacing, my posture uneasy. I massaged her feet and kissed them, held them, and softly caressed them. I've never wanted to touch a person's feet so much, so intensely. They were getting cold and my playful way of warming them up made her feel a bit "uncomfortable." I wrapped her feet in a blanket. I was timid now to touch, I went a bit too far. The surge of uncomfortableness grew stronger in my veins, I hunched over, afraid of looking into her eyes. The face I know all too well. The face that is nearly automatic in my memory. The hair next to her ear, I remember so fondly tucking it behind her earlobe. Her soft, pale cheeks, how I yearn to nuzzle against them with my lil nose, to see them become rosy and pink in the afterglow. I know her face better then the street that I live on. Her body is second nature to me, but I still marvel the same at its' beauty. Her form, her movements, her grace, her clumiseness, brings me a sort of awe and joy that rivals composers that hear their own symphonies play out before them. It's not just music and notes, it's soul, blood, sweat, and tears. Every move I made, I wondered, I worried, I hesitated. Every idea seemed like a wrong one. Then I laid back, she gently caressed my ear, ran her fingers through my hair. My whole head was tingly, her touch never felt so intense in awhile. I wanted her right then and there. How I yearned for that soft caress, Anai's words could no longer hold my attention. I wanted to kiss her passionately right then but fear held me back. I believe she knew. She called me her "Baby" and "lil Child." I professed my love and I got back hot tears. I kissed one off her cheek. Two people, next to one another, feeling the same things, these intense pressures. The monsters within us and all around us haunted us and our situation. My utterances of pessimism made her cry uncontrollably. She barely could feed her cats and make herself a sandwich. I was beyond weeping. The raw intensity of it all, the fearsome power of negativity, I watched as my frown brought her horror and agony. It hit me profoundly. I didn't thirst for it. It hollowed me out, "how could this bring so much pain to the one I love? How long has she cried? How long has she waited for change? Even now she's patient with me, how does she keep it all together?" I wondered. She still amazes me. She gave me 3 kisses before I left. The first one told me "Sorry you had to see all this." The second said "I love you Michael." And the third and most passionate of the kisses told me "Let me be me and let me be free." I gotta comply. A princess doesn't deserve such sorrow. I need this for me, because I just want that chance to be with her, the most beautiful person in the world to me. I believe I can change and I will believe in her. I have faith this is right. I have faith that it'll never have to come to something like this again. I will always love her and never run from her. I will live for someone to share with and grow with and be at peace. I want it to be her, if that time and opportunity ever comes. It's worth my lifetime.

Saturday

Is it I, who thinks this way, truly tragic? Or is it the world that truly is? I'm going out on a limb here, a really fucking long limb, the kind spider monkeys fear swinging on. It's me against a cold, cruel world, and my 280 pound ass thinks this twig will support me. The world is tragic. This isn't profound. I'm not saying "Eureka!" striking gold in the human psyche, just look to Israel and Palestine whenever you start to doubt that it isn't. You can always trust on the "Holy Land" to seek the most deep-rooted, inherent evils. "Think Realistically." What in the fuck does that mean? "Stop Dreaming and stop living in a fantasy world. Everyday we fantasize. Everyday we dream. If you took all the hate in this world and shouldered the load, no matter how mighty, you'd give, "He's only human." people would sayto try to rationalize your downfall. I know we can't sit around all day and fucking smoke pot and watch movies all day. You gotta maintain a balance, a push and pull of 2 opposing forces. Maybe I'm letting the dreams get the best of me. The more fairy tale you want, the harder the world tries to knock you off your pedestal, digging for soul while your feet are off the ground is wasted effort. You gotta keep'em planted to strike any soil. I guess we call that dirt "hope" as we toss it over our shoulder to build a mountain to our dreams so we can stand above, high above, with our feet and shovel, firmly planted.

Maybe I'm the one reflecting all the harshness of the world...........Maybe the pragmatists are the true dreamers. What am I becoming, floating towards the eyes of god, with my back towards the shit in this world.

.......................................

Okay, I'm a bit tired now. I'll give you a recap later. My cuz just got online.

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