I Won't Find The Answers

I feel like I have been such a fool. I gave everything away for a chance that things could be better. I fooled myself into thinking, that she was the one.

not because she made anything better,

but just because of the hope that maybe, one day, she would.

And I was stupid. Because I built all my love on a hope. That she could be what I needed. But she wasn't, she never was, nobody ever was. Nobody has ever made it better. And I get the feeling that nobody ever will.

Lovers Love, Liars Lie.

I feel like I am living two different lives. The one of the Earth and the one in my head.

I want something very badly, but I...I don't know what it is.

I feel like I am a certain kind of man, but nobody else can see that. And I'm so tired. I'm so tired of holding back and being something that I'm not.

But I'm going to keep doing it. There is nobody to accept who I really am. Nobody with which I can use my real voice. Nobody is going to reach out and break down this wall. So it will remain and I will keep my burdens to myself.

I don't even know how to act like my true self anymore, anyway. It doesn't seem worth it; doesn't seem worth the effort for integrity. This is the worst kind of despair. This is what happens when you lose hope. It is not freedom.

Nobody knows who I really am.

And I don't think anyone ever will.

You Are The Only Exception

I am afraid I have lost my belief in love.

All because I wanted to believe, I fell for the same lies over and over. I got hurt time and time again because after all; they were lies. And even though love has been the one thing I've yearned for my whole life, I think I might just give up.
I will never find what I am looking for.
It's best not even to let others know the desire is there. Not let people see the real me order understand me as I have wanted. Things will be so much easier that way.

Maybe it will suffice, if I allowed myself to become everything to someone else. They can place all the burdens of fear unto me, and I will bear them. They need not know of my fears. They need not know my weaknesses or my wounds. I will be what they want of me and I will never allow myself to feel as though I can open up again.

I don't know if this is a choice or if it is something that I've just become.
But I will never love that way again.

Written

I have a paper journal.
It has often been against my code to keep something of the sort. I have always believed, never write something down unless you fully expect for it to be read. But I realized long ago that it doesn't really matter to me if it is read. People can know the truth about everything if they want, that part doesn't bother me much. They can read the words even if they are not meant for them. The part that bothers me is what might come after. Where they will try to understand, or think they do. When they tell me what my words mean or how things happen when they don't know at all. When I hope, that from reading it, they will know me. And they don't. People always fail, and that is why I take refuge within myself and within these words. I cannot fail myself in such a way.

I told myself that after a year I would turn back and read the whole thing. Then I told myself that I would not read it, that I didn't need to. And now here I am, reading through the hastily scribbled pages, and understanding myself as before. Seeing the way I change and the way I felt - and the way I still feel. I am happy after all, that I decided to write it down. Now I will not forget the way I felt or the things I have done.

How do you get a crazy person to leave their house at midnight?

Do anything.

It's been over a year since the whole "fiasco" went down. To me, it seems obligatory that I make mention of it somewhere. Though it hardly seems like an obligation to my past anymore. It hardly seems like anything at all. I wonder if that is a good, or bad thing? I wonder if I am different in some incurable way, now?
It is hard for me to remember it at all, really, even if only to give nod to the fact it existed. It took long even to remember enough to know it happened over a year from now. It seems like no time has passed at all, and yet so much has changed. The past won't help me now, oh no, it would really only make things worse.
But that is not what this post is about.

I want to welcome you back to the present with the sentiment that I am still absolutely insane. And for all my talking about not living in the past, there are certain things I cannot let go.
It started with a melody, if it could even be called that. Musical notes, heard out the window. I should not have to explain what comes next, I'm sure you know, but it seems I've resigned myself to relating every painful detail.
I couldn't not go. That was really, just out of the question. But when I had gotten out there, the music had stopped. Then started a game I know all too well.
"Play it again. Play it again."
But I think that, I knew he wouldn't.
I walked on, begging for any sign, any at all.
I heard churchbells.
I walked, and I ran, to where they were coming from. There was a light shining, outside the church.
I walked slowly towards it, heart caught in my throat. Head whirling in hope and fear, already planning out what it was I would say to him. One wonders if I would have been able to say anything at all, if I truly did see him there.
I did not.

I walked further, hoping, praying, begging for any sign at all. And none came, as I should be used to by now. I wonder, if I ever truly expect to find him there in the middle of the night. But I remember that feeling in my chest and I no longer have doubts.
I ended the journey as I always do, hissing out into the night, "Come and find me."
I always mean it, at the time. And yet, in the middle of the night, I am unable to stop myself running out at any sign. Clinging at any chance.
Not just for him, but for all of it. I do wonder how long I would have to consider it before agreeing to go back.
My answer is always different.

I think that inside everyone there is a profoundly different world, something that though we may want to share it, may not be able to be shown to anyone else. As if it could possibly be understood. Being as I am, I want to learn these worlds and know them. But I must ask myself if I would be so forthcoming at the ends of someone else's inquiries.
Thinking about what I know, what possible harm could come from someone misusing, or misunderstanding that information?
That answer is always different.

These Foolish Games

Its a rare time when I can look back on everything, on my past - that past - and only feel the slightest wish to have those days again. A rare time when I look back fondly on it all and realize the beauty that it was. And a part of me realizes that a part of the beauty is in the fact that it is the past, and that it can't be again.

I won't blame it on so called "human nature" that I do still long for it sometimes, though.

And all I can think about is the peaceful white light that come with rain.

It is strange to think, that right now I am very happy. Compared to only a month or so ago when I might have considered death better than the situation I was in.
Constantly I am aware of Her beauty all around me. The beauty in the fact that, had I taken my life on those various occasions that I was so inclined, that I would not be here right now, and I would not be experiencing the things I am. I would not be writing this. But it just goes to show how little we know when we think we know everything. It just goes to show how things can change.

It comes down to a choice, again. I can't recall how many times I have forgotten and re-learned this lesson. There is always a choice. So long ago I remember, when I first realized there was no point in remaining sad. When I realized one has to move on from things and notice all the things around them that they are blessed with. Inside the darkest cave, a seed still sprouts and grows. If a small seed can do that, then surely I can too.

And at this point it is not at all crazy to believe that all the things I had there I can also have here. There was rain and white light. That is not something...monopolized, by another world. There was a man who felt differently towards me than he does now, but it is not something to be mourned. It is something to be celebrated. Something to be soft about. To smile about with half-closed eyes. And deep inside I'm sure he understands this as well. And I know that others will, one day. I do not worry for them. They are in good hands.

Horrible Sanity

I seemed to have lapsed into madness for a few hours about a week or so ago. Bear in mind I am writing this a while after the fact so things might be blurry, but perhaps more in focus.

By madness, I mean, a glimpse of my former self. The former self that I'm not entirely sure is a good idea, but that I miss none the less. In the end, I might just berate this self with mentions of "madness" to hide the even more horrifying truth - that this is me, perfectly sane, and not crazy at all. If one does not recognize madness, it is a sure sign that it is there, after all.
I'm sure I've gone on and on in the past about my continous search for another world, whether mine own or someone else's, for some secret doorway or portal. A search that goes back to even my childhood days. I've often attributed it to madness, though I know it is truth. And it continues even today, it would seem.
Three weeks before this excursion, while closing my window, about to go to sleep; I noticed a blinking red light in the distance. An air control tower to most people, most certainly. But I froze in my tracks and spent the next hour blinking a flashlight back towards it, and trying to catch a glimpse with binoculars. What if it were him? What if, somewhere, he is flashing that light, knowing I'll recognize it as him? But I couldn't go out that night, or the next, or the one after that. So on it goes until that night when I finally decided to go and meet this light.
You are crazy, you are absolutely insane. My mind chants as I walk to the destination in the dead of night. Its somewhere I've never been, and all I have to guide me is a flashing light on the horizon.
My heart is pounding and my head simultaneously building me up and shutting me down by the time I reach my goal. A tower rises into the air, larger than imagined, and cables clank in the breeze. The occasional car passes. I see nobody but can't give up.
"Drayc?" I call out, as loud as I can bear - which is not very loud. No answer. I pray for a sign, refusing to let it go. Desperately following after any sound. I give him a choice - stop playing games and show himself or I go home.
I end up going home.
But what if he had been there, that first time? And I missed him? Because I couldn't get myself to leave the house. What if I failed him once again.
At the same time, none of it could be real. But, you and I both know, that's not the case.
I went, in the end. I had to, or it would have haunted me forever.
But it left me with more questions than answers.