Ego

Hair

Hair on my back,
Hair on my ass,
Hair on everything,
Why only a pubescent, conquistador mustache?

12/04/08

I notice her giggling. It’s as though she has forgotten reality or is oblivious. It makes me jealous. I want to ask her to coffee, but I stop myself. I usually over calculate.

What was her name? I don’t like the sound of Mary. Maybe it was Erica.

Father gives advice worth listening to. He understands my motivations and needs. I am like him. Which is good. My father is brilliant, caring and strong. Nights are hard and difficult, but I wouldn’t trade this life for any other.

Quite an odd relationship. I miss her. I miss her smile. I miss the way she would look at me. I miss her perception. I doubt she misses me. That is fine. My feelings are not based on her's. Things are not necessarily equal. I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE FOR MY FEELINGS. FUCK YOU IF YOU JUDGE ME. She has somebody new. Wonderful and new. She can’t carry my issues. Nobody can. She is free. I am not. I will get there. Time…

I miss holding somebody. Having somebody in my arms. Somebody I care about. Somebody that cares about me. I crave unconditional love. There are people I can hold. I don’t want them.

It least I’m logical about it. I know what I have to do. I have to reject my cravings.

Existentialism

Politics – Layers of policy for resource distribution. Such as gold.
Gold – A metal less common than others.
We demand gold – This less common metal now litters malls - Absurd.

Gold value seems inherently meaningless, comes from society.

Work – Expected from people. Father. Brother. Friend. Neighbor. And Society.
Now – I expect work from myself. I fear being ostracized.
I must become a cog in this fabricated system.

I did not create this language. I did not create this system. Why do I hold its weight on my shoulders?

My consciousness sits in my head, isolated. I yearn for connection. If only my soul could dance, fit inside another’s, feel their emotions.

Meaningful or Meaningless. I continue. Maybe even buy gold. Not too soon though. I need to forget about this.

I feel much and many.

I miss hands that never touched.
I miss arms that never held.
I miss endearments that never came.
I miss memories that did not happen.

When I press upon warm bodies, I hold heat.
When I study eyes, I cannot find myself.
When I paint, I find nothing beyond it.
When you paint, I cannot find the painting.

I feel complete. Whole as this apple.
I feel existential. Disconnected as this apple.
I feel diverse. Unique as this apple.
I feel compromised. Infected as this apple.
I feel much and many.