The Earth Is Not A Cold Place
Days like today are rare. Everything seems in place. The weather is beautiful. And I am all alone.
But not for long. Soon…a collection of the best friends I have will brave the world and soon join me for nights not so long gone.
Yet for now, I enjoy the solitude. The calm before the storm you could say. Music and sun light fill my room, as well as the rustle of pets, equally sharing in the warmth of today’s gifts.
I’ve spent the first bit of today cleaning and between cigarettes I read past entries to this website and on a fundamental level I am saddened. For the memory is weak, and words written do not lie. I feel my own pain–the pain of growing up and figuring it all out. The pain of failure and doubt, of loneliness and dejection. These are my pains, yet now…they seem so distant.
I love where I am. I share a space, a pile of junk with a roof, with two of the best people I have ever met. I never doubted our success as roommates, but the last two months together has confirmed everything: we are so different, but we fit so well together. A collective…dare I say communion, where every man is equal and every one gives what they can, even if its small. Here, the thought truly counts.
They make my life tolerable when it seems so insufferable. And I would say I’m thankful, but thanks means nothing next to the comfort of this home.
I read about the anger and malaise in which I conduct my job–the occupational depression that keeps these lights on–and again I am saddened. I do so truly despise what I do. If not for its utter frustration, for its complete and total pointlessness. I want to move worlds. I want to change universes. I want so much more than…this…
But I sit here, hours before an interview at another company, and I find some level of discomfiture at the prospect of leaving my job. Perhaps its the pleasure of the familiar, the ease of routine…
Or maybe I am simply scared of exploring a new world. Fear is so completely powerful. I simply do not know.
I read about the hole within my heart, that bleeds for so many. Pouring out my love upon the world, I find in my writings a constant regret. And it is not relative to one woman or one place–but a universally explicit sadness. In previous entries I chastise those who abuse the word ‘love,’ and yet I must question if I myself am guilty as well.
My love is eternal. It is so much bigger than the sum of my parts. My love can move worlds. My love can change universes. If only I could focus this energy…harness its greatness and deliver it to the one or ones that deserve such potency. I suppose its more of a force than an emotion. I suppose my love is in all actuality my will, and I, at my core of cores, am a truly good person. I want nothing. I want nothing but your happiness. I think I would gladly die for it.
On the subject of love, I find my writings about previous relationships somewhat tough to swallow. I think about what went wrong with these women and I know it was most specifically my fault. I do sabotage good things; I do push away good people. But I think it is more than that. I think on some subconscious level they failed–they failed to deserve me and my force of will. They reject my universe in its entirety and for that their role has ended….even if they are truly good people…
You see, my existence is incompatible with society, but today that is alright. Because there are people, and there is a girl, who love me for the maelstrom of humanity that I have become. They recognize and accept me fully, and without question. And if I die possessing only one friend, one girl, than I have died a complete man–for I only need one person to accept me to validate my time on this planet.
And when I die, and I stand before God, I will remember everyone, the one, or possibly no one at all. The earth is not a cold dead place, or more truly, it does not have to be. As long as I have just one…
And I am fortunate…for I have many.
I’m going to go now.
Goodbye.
Goodnight.
Good luck.
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