"What's wrong?" "There's something off about you lately"

What am I supposed to say to that? Do I reply in my native tongue, (sarcasm) "How observant of you!"

What is wrong with me? Why am I here when I'm not sure I want to be? More and more I think that this love I feel is for a person that never really existed. A love based on lies, on deception. Aside from that there is this desire to find myself. To be who I want to be. To do me, without worrying about him.

That's an easy enough thing to do right. I mean in order for me to do me, I don't even have to leave. I can do me and still be here. All the inevitable fights over my new priorities are in the future, not to be chewed over now in the hypothetical. Let the chips fall where they may, let me seek out that which makes me happy.

Old musty smelling books, big comfy chairs, cute girls with dark hair, dark eyeliner and the soul to match. Girls that I needn't worry about the hypothetical future and love triangles. Girls to flirt with, make out with, and touch just for fun.

Writing stories, escapades, sordid love affairs of broken people.

I don't even know how many times I've been here. Not here, my blog, but, here, this place in my head. The place that says it's time to move on. The place that says the love has dried up, the desire is gone, the only thing keeping me here are the tears they shed. The tears and the sadness I feel responsible for keeping at bay.

We fight, we say things, I think both of us knowing that the end isn't near. The end has come and gone. We deny the truth. We pretend we don't know the love we feel for each other is merely a ghost. We reach out to each other with fingers that know the way, but with a heart that's sleeping.

How long can we live in this hell? Feeling feelings that are long gone and wishing they weren't. Drying tears with promises that things will be ok. With fears of hurting not each other but the ones we love the most. Do we play this game we promised we would never play? Back when we promised to love each other just a little more than we loved them. Back when I was young and dumb and in love? She's just a ghost too. Just like the feelings, just like the desire, mere memories being played over and over, an old record being played on an old phonograph. Things long gone, just like this relationship.

being in a funk sucks. things have just seem a little off lately. not just somethings, everything. sex, smiles, interactions, everything. i look at him and will myself to feel more than this vague sense that somewhere deep down i love him. i know all, but feel little. i've been unplugged, disconnected, distracted. are there any other ways to say you can't FEEL? perhaps, but u get the picture. I feel like a robot. Maybe this is what you feel like when you come off of feeling like pinochio, (I've got no strings to tie me down, but i was a puppet none the less). i had a few smoke induced revelations last night. some new things to consider. ugh! there are always new things to consider. can't i be less self aware? can't i be a little less curious (curiosity killed the cat u know. I know, I know) maybe cats have suicidal tendencies, if so, i guess i'm more feline than i thought.

The Call of the Night

I need to write. I NEED it. I need it to keep me sane. I need it to put my thoughts together, to help me deal. The problem is that I'm distracted.

I'm distracted by the beautiful views, the crisp cool air, the clean blue skies during the day. They are beautiful to behold, but the elicit barely more than a smile, a brief daydream into the past.

The night sky is another story altogether. I'm distracted by the millions of twinkling stars at night (did you know there are other constellations besides the big dipper?) Distracted by a sky so black it seems a living thing intent on consuming me. I stand outside in the cold night air, a kink in my neck and stare. Stare at the stars I had almost forgotten about. Stare with that suspicion that there are still more to be seen on just the right night, at just the right time. Millions more, brilliant twinkling stars, begging me to stay and watch. To lay down on the cold dirty concrete, near the bags and boxes of debris we've collected, and watch.

The call of the night comming from within me. Encoded on my dna durring millions of years of evolution. By every ancestor leading back the evoulutionary lines. Every ancestor walked in daylight with different views, mountains, or valleys, or rivers or even wide open seas. But at night every one of us has looked upon this sky. This night sky almost unchanged since that first creature crawled out of the sea. To watch and wonder and dream.

In this place I am home again.