Written, penciled and inked: Doc
Happy to talk to Ashley tonight and we are gonna buy tixs tomorrow for Trans-Siberian Orchestra on December 6th! We both love Christmas time and TSO, both have always wanted to go but never got the opportunity so now we are making the time:)
Studying for my license but I promise I'll get the new fixtures in this place up soon--new lights are here, and as soon as I get 'er structurally sound, I'll start moving back in. Jukebox is ready to go, fixed up and still all my records in there! Life is good:)
Doc out.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Issue 17: "Sleepy Day"
Written, penciled and inked: Doc
Well, I just got back from Oxford and Water Valley. Can't even really count the trip to WV because I saw Bitsy for maybe 5 minutes before heading back to Oxford for a visit to Soulshine Pizza Factory. I've never eaten there before, but after looking at the menu online (isn't technology great these days?) I saw they serve a BBQ Pizza similar to Old Venice's former mainstay Hog Wild BBQ Pizza and decided to give them a shot. I was impressed--the ambience of the place, the blues music, and their staff and food...excellent. I also used the opportunity to update my laptop, which I am using to type this journal entry while listening to some John Mayer live songs on my iPhone.
I enjoyed that Soulshine was almost empty...I have needed some alone time recently as things have been hectic. I've got a new job now, an Insurance salesman for American Income Life. Leslie and I are still working out our relationship, trying to decide if there is enough left to salvage. Upon finishing this entry, I'm gonna sit down and enjoy reading some of the sequel to The Shining; Doctor Sleep is the title. I'm about 150 pages in and have not had nightmares yet. I also aim to start Rivers, by Michael Farris--it is a fictional look at a never-ending series of superstorms pounding the Mississippi Gulf Coast, and a chronicle of those who choose to remain behind in the ruins. I missed church this Sunday but that won't be a habit--I need the Lord in my life, and I will not turn my back on His grace again.
I was too tired to do too much last night--this building is a ruin, perhaps a fresh structure will allow me fresh thought lines in my head...we shall see.
Don't hold me to it but I might be back tonight after reading for a while. Have a great day:)
Well, I just got back from Oxford and Water Valley. Can't even really count the trip to WV because I saw Bitsy for maybe 5 minutes before heading back to Oxford for a visit to Soulshine Pizza Factory. I've never eaten there before, but after looking at the menu online (isn't technology great these days?) I saw they serve a BBQ Pizza similar to Old Venice's former mainstay Hog Wild BBQ Pizza and decided to give them a shot. I was impressed--the ambience of the place, the blues music, and their staff and food...excellent. I also used the opportunity to update my laptop, which I am using to type this journal entry while listening to some John Mayer live songs on my iPhone.
I enjoyed that Soulshine was almost empty...I have needed some alone time recently as things have been hectic. I've got a new job now, an Insurance salesman for American Income Life. Leslie and I are still working out our relationship, trying to decide if there is enough left to salvage. Upon finishing this entry, I'm gonna sit down and enjoy reading some of the sequel to The Shining; Doctor Sleep is the title. I'm about 150 pages in and have not had nightmares yet. I also aim to start Rivers, by Michael Farris--it is a fictional look at a never-ending series of superstorms pounding the Mississippi Gulf Coast, and a chronicle of those who choose to remain behind in the ruins. I missed church this Sunday but that won't be a habit--I need the Lord in my life, and I will not turn my back on His grace again.
I was too tired to do too much last night--this building is a ruin, perhaps a fresh structure will allow me fresh thought lines in my head...we shall see.
Don't hold me to it but I might be back tonight after reading for a while. Have a great day:)
Monday, October 14, 2013
Issue 16: "New Beginnings, Old Endings..."
Written, penciled, inked by: Doc
Hullo, all. The poet here, stopping by his once-proud café. Now it lies in shambles, the roof collapsed in and all the furniture destroyed or taken. I had such high hopes for this place when I started writing again 2 years ago, but somehow I squandered my opportunity for renewal of the soul through this outlet. Mayhaps my pain at the time was simply too great, perhaps I've just gotten lazy.
Tonight I invite you once again into my soul, to share both the pain and the smiles of my journey:)
Tonight I will be up late repairing walls and assessing damage to see where else I should begin my repairs.
Tomorrow night we shall begin in earnest....sleep well.
Hullo, all. The poet here, stopping by his once-proud café. Now it lies in shambles, the roof collapsed in and all the furniture destroyed or taken. I had such high hopes for this place when I started writing again 2 years ago, but somehow I squandered my opportunity for renewal of the soul through this outlet. Mayhaps my pain at the time was simply too great, perhaps I've just gotten lazy.
Tonight I invite you once again into my soul, to share both the pain and the smiles of my journey:)
Tonight I will be up late repairing walls and assessing damage to see where else I should begin my repairs.
Tomorrow night we shall begin in earnest....sleep well.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Issue 15: "Lovely Lady"
Written, pencilled and inked by: Heath P. Lail
Listening to: "Crush" by DMB and "Civilian" by Wye Oak
Hullo, friends and readers.
It has been almost a week since my last entry, but life has been hectic, in both positive and negatives. Leslie and I attended church yesterday morning, in what I've determined is a concentrated effort to reattach to my more religious nature. It felt good to see old friends that I often ONLY see under a church steeple, and be with other believers.
The negative of the week was the passing of Leslie's cousin Jeff, who now resides with the Lord in peace and light. She was very distraught Friday and Saturday abou this, and some activities were curtailed in order to console her.
Overall, though, it was a productive week. I'm off to do some reading after my workout at the Y today...I'll see you here tomorrow night for something with a little more meat on it:)
Listening to: "Crush" by DMB and "Civilian" by Wye Oak
Hullo, friends and readers.
It has been almost a week since my last entry, but life has been hectic, in both positive and negatives. Leslie and I attended church yesterday morning, in what I've determined is a concentrated effort to reattach to my more religious nature. It felt good to see old friends that I often ONLY see under a church steeple, and be with other believers.
The negative of the week was the passing of Leslie's cousin Jeff, who now resides with the Lord in peace and light. She was very distraught Friday and Saturday abou this, and some activities were curtailed in order to console her.
Overall, though, it was a productive week. I'm off to do some reading after my workout at the Y today...I'll see you here tomorrow night for something with a little more meat on it:)
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Issue 14: "I have not forsaken thee"
Written, pencilled and inked by: Heath P Lail
Not much to say tonight, save that I'm feeling a little under the weather so this will be sweet and short. I will not forsake this writing exercise, as it has been cathartic to my soul. I have backed off my Repression storyline, as it was just too deep and dark and complex to handle right now.
I did have some intellectual stimulation today, though, by discussing the right or wrongness of agreeing to care for a friend's "knowingly stolen" property in order to return it to its rightful owner. More on that later, I think the bed is calling me. I may not post much this week, but I will not abandon my new-found writing freedom anytime soon, I assure you.
Keep reading, things will get interesting very soon, I promise.
Not much to say tonight, save that I'm feeling a little under the weather so this will be sweet and short. I will not forsake this writing exercise, as it has been cathartic to my soul. I have backed off my Repression storyline, as it was just too deep and dark and complex to handle right now.
I did have some intellectual stimulation today, though, by discussing the right or wrongness of agreeing to care for a friend's "knowingly stolen" property in order to return it to its rightful owner. More on that later, I think the bed is calling me. I may not post much this week, but I will not abandon my new-found writing freedom anytime soon, I assure you.
Keep reading, things will get interesting very soon, I promise.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Issue 12: Repression, Pt. 2
I'm sorry about last night.
The thought crossed my mind as I signed off that I had certain aspects of my very PERSONALITY that changed due to this relationship, and the idea of burying those aspects of myself almost killed me, literally. After crying for an hour, I finally pulled myself together and went into a night of fitful sleep.
Unfortunately, I have no additional ideas about resolving this situation, save to find some way to retain my love of the blues, etc. but to remove certain emotional attachments to those things. This would be equal to a psychological surgery on myself, picking and prodding certain pieces of myself...lighting and snuffing out areas of my own psyche. Pretty heady stuff, honestly...not that I'm not up to it. In fact, as I write this, I am attempting to simultaneously form a battle plan to begin extraction of this information out of my life.
The first step is to replace positive thoughts or memories with ones of neutrality. The "specialness" of these places must be lost in order to return my frame of mind to a happier state. For my own protection, these places will remain in secret here, but I know of one such place I will pass by tomorrow, and that will begin my experiment in earnest. A tricky balance of neither hate nor love, simply indifference, must be achieved and I know just how to do this.
The grey skies are dispersing...
The thought crossed my mind as I signed off that I had certain aspects of my very PERSONALITY that changed due to this relationship, and the idea of burying those aspects of myself almost killed me, literally. After crying for an hour, I finally pulled myself together and went into a night of fitful sleep.
Unfortunately, I have no additional ideas about resolving this situation, save to find some way to retain my love of the blues, etc. but to remove certain emotional attachments to those things. This would be equal to a psychological surgery on myself, picking and prodding certain pieces of myself...lighting and snuffing out areas of my own psyche. Pretty heady stuff, honestly...not that I'm not up to it. In fact, as I write this, I am attempting to simultaneously form a battle plan to begin extraction of this information out of my life.
The first step is to replace positive thoughts or memories with ones of neutrality. The "specialness" of these places must be lost in order to return my frame of mind to a happier state. For my own protection, these places will remain in secret here, but I know of one such place I will pass by tomorrow, and that will begin my experiment in earnest. A tricky balance of neither hate nor love, simply indifference, must be achieved and I know just how to do this.
The grey skies are dispersing...
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Issue 11: Repression, Pt. 1
Repressed: subjected to, affected by or characteristic of psychological repression
Repress: to inhibit or suppress.
Hullo again, my friends and readers...
I fear that I must now do something which I have never before attempted--I must needs repress not merely the memory of one person, but the entire summation of my time with that person from memory. Places, touches...any emotional attachment to this person must be wiped clean in order for my "resurrection" to continue.
Once, I steadfastly felt that my beliefs in the sanctity of marriage could not be dislodged. These walls were breached by a cunning vixen who lured me in with the promise of friendship--once there, the true depths of her seduction became apparent. My training teaches that every touch, every emotional response that one receives through interactions with other humans, plants and our world at large leaves an emotional fingerprint. Therefore, removing the entiretity of a person with whom you share more than a casual acquaintance with leaves one with innumerable fingerprints on their psyche--the weight of this task, now committed to paper, has broken me to tears.
How can I forget? How can I just rip a major part of the last four years of my life out? Hopefully I can find an answer soon, as this weighs heavily upon my shoulder.
It harkens back to the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, where Jim Carrey's character attempts this very act out of desperation. Though I am not at mind's end like him, this person can not live within my thoughts and be congruous with my new mindset. In actuality, repression is not a strong enough term...this person must be expulsed from my memories, like so much rotten fruit from the mouth of a homeless person. Repression only inhibits these memories...inhibitions can be recalled, resurface. To expulse something is akin to exiling matter. It shall NOT be allowed within my walls again.
I'm not sure where to begin...the beginning? Our first "meeting"? I just don't know...this is so large I can't get a grasp on it...
I'm sorry, I....
Repress: to inhibit or suppress.
Hullo again, my friends and readers...
I fear that I must now do something which I have never before attempted--I must needs repress not merely the memory of one person, but the entire summation of my time with that person from memory. Places, touches...any emotional attachment to this person must be wiped clean in order for my "resurrection" to continue.
Once, I steadfastly felt that my beliefs in the sanctity of marriage could not be dislodged. These walls were breached by a cunning vixen who lured me in with the promise of friendship--once there, the true depths of her seduction became apparent. My training teaches that every touch, every emotional response that one receives through interactions with other humans, plants and our world at large leaves an emotional fingerprint. Therefore, removing the entiretity of a person with whom you share more than a casual acquaintance with leaves one with innumerable fingerprints on their psyche--the weight of this task, now committed to paper, has broken me to tears.
How can I forget? How can I just rip a major part of the last four years of my life out? Hopefully I can find an answer soon, as this weighs heavily upon my shoulder.
It harkens back to the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, where Jim Carrey's character attempts this very act out of desperation. Though I am not at mind's end like him, this person can not live within my thoughts and be congruous with my new mindset. In actuality, repression is not a strong enough term...this person must be expulsed from my memories, like so much rotten fruit from the mouth of a homeless person. Repression only inhibits these memories...inhibitions can be recalled, resurface. To expulse something is akin to exiling matter. It shall NOT be allowed within my walls again.
I'm not sure where to begin...the beginning? Our first "meeting"? I just don't know...this is so large I can't get a grasp on it...
I'm sorry, I....
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Issue 10: Apologia
Written, pencilled and inked by: Heath Parker Lail
Apologia: language of origin--Greek.
The definition of said word is "a defence or justification of one's beliefs or actions."
Hullo, my long-lost friends.
I fear that there is no defence for my actions over the past few years, merely an explanation, which is also unsatisfactory. Unfortunately, that must suffice for now, as it forms the only coherent words that I may now speak.
Who I once was became lost, consumed by petty desires of the flesh, the promise of quick fixes for problems that probed far deeper than merely the skin, and materialism. I once felt very confident in my abilities to not give into the desires of the flesh, but I was merely kidding myself. I, like many others before me, fell to the notion that one could have their cake and eat it, too. Stupidly, I have followed that road to its bitterest of ends, which led to my overall cynicism, melancholy and increasing mood swings these past years. I sought to bury these things under the pretense of false laughter and merriment, a coping mechanism which had served me well in the past, but failed miserably here. During previous instances, my laughter had never become an integral part of that which damned me...it saved me. In this particular weakness of mind, spirit and body, laughter, like all the other emotions, bubbled in a cauldron warmed by my own passions and desires, the fires stoked with whispers and promises as old as the Earth itself. I fell into an abyss of up, down, left then right, over and under, then over once again, sacrificing my true happiness for moments of canned happiness presented through short bursts of "togetherness". I now know my enemy on this front, and am prepared to confront him upon the field of battle the next time his head should rise. Though this may never die, I feel prepared to combat it until I draw my last breath.
Secondly, I gave into the promises of Earthly fixes, instead of turning to my God, who is strong enough to heal any wound, repair any tear as though it never happened. I humble myself before Him now, asking forgiveness, though I do not deserve the mention of it, much less the opportunity. I thought I could handle whatever came, but I now know the weight of being separated from my Heavenly Father through my stubbornness and stupidity. It is more emotionally draining that any physical weight that could be placed upon me, and causes one to reevaluate your entire looking-glass through which we each view the outside world. I am ashamed of my behaviors, verbal freeness-of-mouth, and general lack of respect I have shown my Creator (and His creations)since--well, 2006. Thusly, I now reacknowledge that He, and not myself, should be the Captain of my vessel, for He knows best for me. I will attempt to follow His direction as best I may.
Materialism also took over my thoughts...for the first time, to a certain extent, I could keep up with the Jones's, and I did with reckless abandon. If I wanted it, there was plastic, if not paper, to grasp it with. Though I quickly learned that these "happys" were momentary in relieving my pain, it is the nature of materialism to grow unchecked once unleashed. I see the errors of my ways, and have put checks and balances in order to remove the urge to put myself in this situation again. Never again will objects take the place of people to give me happiness, as people have much greater effect on your life than things ever will.
I close tonight by saying this: Hang onto your hats, the real ME is back in charge for the first time in years, and you'll be surprised at the changes...pleasantly surprised:)
Tune in again tomorrow, when the changes begin...this feels RIGHT.
Apologia: language of origin--Greek.
The definition of said word is "a defence or justification of one's beliefs or actions."
Hullo, my long-lost friends.
I fear that there is no defence for my actions over the past few years, merely an explanation, which is also unsatisfactory. Unfortunately, that must suffice for now, as it forms the only coherent words that I may now speak.
Who I once was became lost, consumed by petty desires of the flesh, the promise of quick fixes for problems that probed far deeper than merely the skin, and materialism. I once felt very confident in my abilities to not give into the desires of the flesh, but I was merely kidding myself. I, like many others before me, fell to the notion that one could have their cake and eat it, too. Stupidly, I have followed that road to its bitterest of ends, which led to my overall cynicism, melancholy and increasing mood swings these past years. I sought to bury these things under the pretense of false laughter and merriment, a coping mechanism which had served me well in the past, but failed miserably here. During previous instances, my laughter had never become an integral part of that which damned me...it saved me. In this particular weakness of mind, spirit and body, laughter, like all the other emotions, bubbled in a cauldron warmed by my own passions and desires, the fires stoked with whispers and promises as old as the Earth itself. I fell into an abyss of up, down, left then right, over and under, then over once again, sacrificing my true happiness for moments of canned happiness presented through short bursts of "togetherness". I now know my enemy on this front, and am prepared to confront him upon the field of battle the next time his head should rise. Though this may never die, I feel prepared to combat it until I draw my last breath.
Secondly, I gave into the promises of Earthly fixes, instead of turning to my God, who is strong enough to heal any wound, repair any tear as though it never happened. I humble myself before Him now, asking forgiveness, though I do not deserve the mention of it, much less the opportunity. I thought I could handle whatever came, but I now know the weight of being separated from my Heavenly Father through my stubbornness and stupidity. It is more emotionally draining that any physical weight that could be placed upon me, and causes one to reevaluate your entire looking-glass through which we each view the outside world. I am ashamed of my behaviors, verbal freeness-of-mouth, and general lack of respect I have shown my Creator (and His creations)since--well, 2006. Thusly, I now reacknowledge that He, and not myself, should be the Captain of my vessel, for He knows best for me. I will attempt to follow His direction as best I may.
Materialism also took over my thoughts...for the first time, to a certain extent, I could keep up with the Jones's, and I did with reckless abandon. If I wanted it, there was plastic, if not paper, to grasp it with. Though I quickly learned that these "happys" were momentary in relieving my pain, it is the nature of materialism to grow unchecked once unleashed. I see the errors of my ways, and have put checks and balances in order to remove the urge to put myself in this situation again. Never again will objects take the place of people to give me happiness, as people have much greater effect on your life than things ever will.
I close tonight by saying this: Hang onto your hats, the real ME is back in charge for the first time in years, and you'll be surprised at the changes...pleasantly surprised:)
Tune in again tomorrow, when the changes begin...this feels RIGHT.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Issue 9: "What the Hell Am I Doing?"
After reading a multitude of old AOL Journals, I have come to the realization that massive amounts of potential are flowing away from me like so much blood from a person who is hemmhoraging internally. I can not allow that to continue...I feel that I have strayed quite far from my intended course, and starting now, this very second, things must be set right.
This Cafe has seen too much pity-party and not enough Parliament of Wisdom 3. My intellect has been suffocated under fetishes, stupidity and false hopes, but soon...tomorrow night, soon...it will come roaring to the forefront again. I've wasted enough time, and seen too many good people die these last few years to lose sight of my potential. If I do not choose my own destiny, it will never find me. I choose my destiny. Now.
Heath
This Cafe has seen too much pity-party and not enough Parliament of Wisdom 3. My intellect has been suffocated under fetishes, stupidity and false hopes, but soon...tomorrow night, soon...it will come roaring to the forefront again. I've wasted enough time, and seen too many good people die these last few years to lose sight of my potential. If I do not choose my own destiny, it will never find me. I choose my destiny. Now.
Heath
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Issue 8-"Tap Out"
I tap out....I give up. Im through trying to figure out which way Clarksdale is going. I dont wanna play hard to get anymore--is it not enough to have someone, without playing with their emotions and fucking with their head? It is hard to keep a good man down, but I don't feel like getting up anymore. The fight is fixed, and it's time for me to just accept my beat down. Accept that I'm playing second fiddle on a song that will never be heard.......
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Issue 7- "Uncharted iPhone Territory"
Fixing to turn in, but just wanted to say I've been hooked on the first Uncharted game and am in the process of downloading an Uncharted clone for iPhone, called Shadow Guardian. I'll let you know first impressions after playing with it tomorrow....
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Issue 6- "The Child Within, Part 2"
A paintbrush stroke
Can not replace a gentle stroke to your face.
A bright splash of paint
Can not replace your face as we splash in the water.
A story
Can not capture the raw energy of a night spent in Clarksdale.
A poem
Can not remind us of a quiet beach cove that, as yet, has not been.
But a simple smell of you, a taste of your hair
Can make me remember why I fell in love with you.
Can not replace a gentle stroke to your face.
A bright splash of paint
Can not replace your face as we splash in the water.
A story
Can not capture the raw energy of a night spent in Clarksdale.
A poem
Can not remind us of a quiet beach cove that, as yet, has not been.
But a simple smell of you, a taste of your hair
Can make me remember why I fell in love with you.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Issue 5- "The Child Within, Part 1"
To slowly stroke a pencil over a blank canvas, curving and looping with grace and precision. Lightly shading here, cross-hatching there, ending with a masterpiece of anatomy. Feeling the sweat of her brow splash upon my face as we make love, the wetness of her hair mingling with the slow moans she emits as I push, pump into her body...creating musical bliss. A slow crescendo builds unto the endgame, flashing lights and a popping noise as her back arches with the intensity of our love-making. Laying there, waiting.....
I love being a penciller
I love being a penciller
Monday, December 13, 2010
Issue 4- "World Traveler"
Listening to Tool Radio once again on Pandora, and unwinding after a day of transports. Everywhere from down the street to Marion, Arkansas, boy am I tired but it was a fun release from the everyday grind. Re-chrome job on the jukebox is almost complete, and after replacing the bubbler lights inside tomorrow, this place will begin to take shape. As well as draft beer taps, I found an antique Coca-Cola soda fountain, and after another week or so of hand-painting, the newly extended cabinet I've placed it in will carry 6 flavored Coke products and 5 Pepsi handles. The second cabinet will have 8 draft beers, and the mirror-backed shelf dresser will hold approximately 100-110 bottles of various "drank". I can feel the excitement building within, and the populace around here will be even happier to see my surprise opening in a few weeks, and I have all new neon signs and lights that I have yet to put up. In fact, from the outside, the building still looks derelict except for the dual locks I've put on the door. So, the surprise will be complete soon....
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Issue 3- "Lateralus"
Really just wanted to let you know I'm rocking out to Tool, and I forgot exactly how powerful and moving their music is. I really should get more in tune with myself, it will make life less stressful and more palpable. Time to crack out "The Child Within" issues of Spec Spidey and go old-school.....
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Issue 2- "...that Old Feeling"
Well, here I am again. First two-nights-in-a-row posts in a long time...feels good to stretch my sea legs. The Cafe is being built more slowly and methodically this time around, kinda looking for a Blues-infused Juke Joint sort of feel. My heart isnt up to a seaside bungalow any more...brings back memories and feelings that just bring me down. So, to that end, I picked up a vintage juke box the other day and have been touching the chrome up on it--painting and full body repairs coming soon. I have about 30 blues records to put in there, saving the last spot for a real gem...found a copy of DMB's Before These Crowded Streets, and I'm gonna spend the first dollar myself, playing Crush four times.
I want to be a writer. More than anything I've ever wanted. But I'm torn, because I'm not sure I can follow my heart in both the Psychology and Writing directions. I just want to be happy, have the love of a good woman and have enough quiet time to write. That is why the thought of another Bungalow-styled Cafe was out immediately. It reminds me too much of "The Beach", a story that changed my life. And it reminds me that my own happiness is now found in "Clarksdale", a Hell penned by my own fingers. So now I am constructing my own Hell, hoping that my damned Queen will soon join me. 'Scuse me, gotta get back to slapping this coat of Blue on the walls....
I want to be a writer. More than anything I've ever wanted. But I'm torn, because I'm not sure I can follow my heart in both the Psychology and Writing directions. I just want to be happy, have the love of a good woman and have enough quiet time to write. That is why the thought of another Bungalow-styled Cafe was out immediately. It reminds me too much of "The Beach", a story that changed my life. And it reminds me that my own happiness is now found in "Clarksdale", a Hell penned by my own fingers. So now I am constructing my own Hell, hoping that my damned Queen will soon join me. 'Scuse me, gotta get back to slapping this coat of Blue on the walls....
Friday, December 10, 2010
Issue 1- "Broken-hearted Bard"
I write this for none of my friends to see...it is with a heavy heart that I find myself in the place where I am at. I work in a mental health facility, but I am quite possibly an excellent candidate for residency as well as anyone. There are two things I wish for, more than anything in the world--a sense of closure with my lover, one whom makes me feel not unto the most loved and equally loathed creature ever to breathe in our current existence. Seeing her makes m whole but her wholesale rejection of any salient points raised about the ineffective closure to our "relationship" drives me to madness. I have been told by many that I am loved--but only one has truly stood tall when the moment of truth came, and even her future plans feel shaky at this moment. And as guilty as I feel even typing this, she was not the one in whose arms I truly sought refuge from the storms of life. That one, when game time arrived, ran away, for reasons she never disclosed in full, once again because the opportunity to talk about these things is immediately squashed upon it's birth from my lips. Only the lonely can truly understand the full measure of my ire at such treatment, as though my feelings are so different from hers (which is right, of course) as to be demonized and thus never to be spoken into existence. Why does one act as an adult, but shy away at the times and conversations that would bring me a modicum of comfort and rest as I lay my skull upon yon bed?
Perhaps I've spilled enough bile tonight, but I feel only slightly better. Perhaps with the next entry....
Perhaps I've spilled enough bile tonight, but I feel only slightly better. Perhaps with the next entry....
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