Monday, December 18, 2017


This is addressed to you: you know who you are.

You may have had the impression that whatever existed between us could be rebuilt. The last post in which I wrote about you in any meaningful capacity was from October of last year, but that's only a few posts ago.

...I really have let this whole journalling thing fall by the wayside, I suppose.

At any rate. That was over a year ago, and a lot has changed since then. My thoughts on the world continue to evolve and grow, and often in a darker direction than is probably healthy. My thoughts on relationships, especially, have continued to become more nuanced.

Reflecting on our past... all I see there is pain and suffering, on my end. You have nothing to offer me. You've been with so many men at this point that I would not find it unlikely to believe that you yourself have lost count. You have no education, you have no insights into life. You simply exist.


If we had been together this entire time, I wouldn't hold that against you. Not in the slightest. My thoughts on relationships, as I said, are changing and evolving, and being with a woman whose goal is to simply be a good woman would be acceptable to me, at this point.

You are not a good woman, however. You are deceitful and manipulative. You have literally used me for your own gain, with no intention of anything beyond that, though you may have said things to the contrary.

On top of that, you're not my equal, nor are you better than me in any meaningful capacity. You do not challenge me in the way that a partner in life should. Dealing with you is certainly a challenge, bu of a sort that I have absolutely no interest in taking on. Your emotional and mental health is - frankly - a fucking mess, and one that I have no interest in dealing with.

You're unstable and you've been whoring yourself out for the entirety of your twenties. You have no skills of measurable worth that I can discern from this distance. You are getting older, and at this point I have no interest in raising someone else's child. Your future is, bluntly, bleak.

Meanwhile, I've got a decent, intellectually-stimulating job, and just got into grad school. My future is looking better with every passing day.

Whatever connection existed between us is long dead. We're not those people anymore, not in any meaningful way, though the fact that you continue to try to use me as a backup for when shit hits the fan is perhaps one of the few constants in my life this past decade.

I feel I made my message clear: we're done, and I feel absolutely no remorse in saying so. The only thing you have to offer me in a relationship is frustration, the sense that I would have to absolutely watch every thing I say and do so as to not disrupt the delicate balance in that head of yours, while you would most likely just continue to be you: unresponsive and uncommunicative as ever.

Ask yourself, why would I want to put myself through that again? What possible gain is there for me, to try to work things out with you? There's nothing. It's just... the whole idea of us being a thing again is honestly quite laughable. That you thought you could try to initiate that - in the worst fucking way, by the way, you could have just been direct about your intentions instead of trying to get me to do you a favor - is... honestly, just kind of sad.

So. I don't think I have much else to say on the matter. It's done.

Goodbye, Danielle.

Sunday, September 03, 2017


I'm growing concerned about my mental state. I feel... a lot more unhinged, as of late, and that's not so great.

Maybe it's better not to dwell on it, though. I've got other thoughts I can put to the page, and maybe it's better to try to focus on that shit.

I'm trying to get my shit together enough to take the GRE and apply for grad school. It's been a long time since I dealt with maths, though, and it's proving... difficult. My estimated scores are fucking trash: there's no way I'll be able to get in, with my undergrad GPA, without some rock star level test scores. I need to work on this and be better.


I think part of my problem is that I'm alone, in a bad way. I don't have a solid group of friends here, I don't have a significant other... add to that the complete and utter disappointment the working world has been, in terms of intellectual stimulation and conversation...

I expected so much more out of the world. Between that and some significant shifts in how I see and understand the world... I feel like what I want, what I believe exists, is out there somewhere, I just have no idea how to get there right now.

Hence the attempt to return to school and do the grad school thing. I think that part of my problem is that I just... don't know enough. I need more training, I need more exposure to things...

So yeah. Depression is a bitch. Haven't had a manic episode since I moved down here, which is... somewhat disheartening.

I don't feel successful. And the problem is, I'm not sure that I ever will.

Turn the page...

Wednesday, August 30, 2017


At Ali's urging, I am reviving the ... probably not daily practice, of maintaining a blog.

I have become somewhat... unhinged, as of late. My mental state seems to be deteriorating, in a sense. I have become stagnant, with no point in time to focus my mental energies upon; without that drive, and without an emotional anchor, it seems that the storm once more threatens to engulf me.

...I'm not sure things are dark enough, at this point, for me to revive the metaphors of old, but I suppose they will suffice as a mental crutch of sorts, while I sort my shit out and get my act together.

Perhaps I can devise new ones, to reflect this age of my life.

So. Here we find ourselves once more, on the beach of dreams.

Maybe this time, the story will go differently.

...but before I can call this post done, I need to find a new phrase with which to sign off. "It is what it is" is an effectively ancient and tired phrase, one that I have no interest in bringing back. "A still more glorious dawn awaits," while... still true, is too closely tied to humanity's journey to the stars, a dream that - while important - is not my dream.


Ah. I have just the thing. Something that fits with the zeitgeist of the moment, of where I feel I am at this point in my life. A phrase that reminds me of my past, but encourages me to not look back. I cannot look back: that cannot be stressed enough. It also fits as part of the overall metaphor that I use, of my life's story being penned in a book.

With that settled... I think just the act of posting again, after nearly a year, is sufficient. We'll leave the heavy shit for another day.

Turn the page...

Monday, October 31, 2016


Just a hair over five months... I'd have to consult my physical journals, but that may well be the longest stretch of time I have ever gone without writing.

There is something dreadfully wrong with my world, though, and so I find it comforting to return to old habits.

...including, apparently, the thrice-damned purple prose of which I am so fond. Yet even in cursing it, I continue to invoke it, which may go a long way as to illustrating the current state of my mind.


Once upon a time, a boy talked to a girl.


Once upon a time, a boy failed his driving test.


Once upon a time, a boy was expelled.


Once upon a time, a boy was threatened, and returned that threat in kind.

...there it is.

Sharp twists in the road, bends in the river of time, decisions made in the heat of the moment that had such... lasting impacts as could not be known. As Ray said: I always want a second chance. Hindsight is always 20/20, and even now - even now! - I find myself continually looking back, trying to find a way to set right what once went wrong.

Do you still read this, I wonder? In the... saga that is this dance we do, ten months is not a long time. Strong words were exchanged, yes; but time heals all wounds (or so they say; I wonder if either of us really believes that, these days).

Regardless of what I may have said, or left unsaid, I will say this now: you are dangerous to me, in ways that no one else is. Oh certainly, there are those who could disrupt my mental state, who could derail me and cause me temporal harm, but there are none I left so far into my heart - such as it is - as you. I care about you in ways that I could not care for anyone else.

I realize this is an incredibly droll thing to say, but honestly the only thing stopping me from listing you as my beneficiary on my life insurance was that I didn't know some particular information. And that was months before we started talking the last time.

No matter how much you have hurt me, still would I tear asunder the sky for you, if you asked and it were in my power; whatever your desire, should I have the means, I would make it so.


You know how to get in touch with me, if you so wish it. I'm doubtful you will do so, but there it is.


In the meantime, I hope that getting this shit off my chest will at least quell this damnable flame in my chest, and return my heart to its significantly more comfortable stony self. I cannot abide these... bouts of emotional fancy, though whether they strengthen or weaken with each passing year is... hard to tell, and at this time I'm too vulnerable to myself to read through these past entries to make that determination.

A still more glorious dawn awaits.

Tuesday, May 24, 2016


So... I guess Musk is against AI.

Given that Musk is pretty much the real world's equivalent to Tony Stark, I guess that makes me the villain of this story.

Which kind of makes me want to go work at SpaceX, and get that whole "the hero and villain worked together!" backstory thing going. Because I'm a sucker for narrative claptrap like that.

It's alright, though. I like the role of the heavy. I've played it many times before, and... actually I'm not really sure I'll play it again, since the whole "I have no social life" thing happened now that I live in Alabama, and I've done a lot of... I don't know if "growing" is the right term, but there sure has been a lot going on in my brain-pan as of late.

Anyway, just wanted to make a note of the fact that Musk doesn't like AI. It'll maybe be marginally important later.

Oh yeah... and I guess it was my birthday again lately, or whatever. Just another day, again; really would prefer people stop making such a big fuss about it.

A still more glorious dawn awaits.

Monday, May 09, 2016


Oh, I will.

I gave you your chance, only to find out that you were apparently seeing a guy that entire time. You could've been honest about your situation, but instead you led me on, led me to believe that there was still something there. I guess the fact that he knows the songs from your favorite band is more important than, oh I don't know, having a decent job that doesn't involve wearing a fuckin' name tag.

It's not my fault you're boring. It's not my fault you decided to go have a kid with some fucking ghetto loser. I was willing to help you; willing to take on the responsibility of looking out for you both; willing to forgive and forget all that had happened, start fresh, move forward.

It's not my fault you decided to throw that option away.

What the fuck are you even doing, reading my blog, anyway? Did you honestly think that there would be anything here for you?

We're fuckin' done.

I would rather spend the rest of my days alone than deal with your madness again.

Monday, February 29, 2016


It's been awhile. I think the... events of January were enough to put the idea of putting thought to paper out of my mind, for awhile. I've had to percolate on it, reflect upon it, to reach the point where I could assess the situation with an even hand and feel comfortable with my conclusions.

So here we go.


I am fine with this.

That is simultaneously truth and lie, for various reasons.

It is truth because... how do I even put this? She is incredibly boring. I recall that we had an afternoon together, and she spent it sleeping. We discussed our lives and what had happened on the car ride to Indiana (which, admittedly, was rather long), and then... nothing. Perhaps an hour of discussing what the future might hold, and some other various short discussions about pertinent things (eating, meeting with her friend, etc), but nothing past that.

Once upon a time, this girl had - or so I believed - ambitions. Goals. Dreams. Now she seems a mere shell of what she once was, if what I thought I had seen back then were even real. I suppose I am reminded of the fact that what I saw in her was not in her, but the potential for great things. Without someone to guide her, she had fallen into... the boring rut that failures often find themselves in. I know that place well, well enough to identify when someone else is in it, having been there once myself.

Bringing her out of that rut would've taken... an enormous amount of work and effort, with - very possibly - absolutely nothing to show for it. No longer did I feel that there was something there beneath the surface; whatever spark of curiosity had once burned in her mind had dwindled, if it had ever lived at all.

When she decided to inform me that she was cutting me out of her life, I will admit that I also felt a sense of relief. The relief of not having to saddle myself with her and her myriad issues, both real and imagined. Relief of not committing myself to a life with someone who is so very clearly not my equal, in any sense. I was also disappointed, but not surprised: I figured that her decision would be the one that would happen. So it goes, with her.

And the lie of being fine with this is simple: I am lonely. Yes, sex is great and all, but really at this point what I want in my life is a partner, someone who is at least my equal or who can dazzle me with her mind. I want someone I can actually engage in conversation with, without feeling like I have to... dumb everything down. With Danielle, I felt like she was always at least a step behind, requiring constant encouragement and willing to throw in the towel at the slightest difficulty. I can't be with someone like that.

In other news, I am immensely entertained that she keeps trying to spin this as a positive for herself. Because I'm sure she'll find a fulfilling life with some idiot she works with at a gas station; I'm sure that will go swimmingly for her and her daughter. No doubt eventually her parents will find reason to throw her out again, and some hapless fool will support her through that, only to be cast aside the moment her ridiculous emotions tell her that that's the thing to do. She has left a trail of emotional devastation in her wake that I cannot even begin to fathom.

No more will we speak of this girl and what she has wrought; she is but a shadow of the past, like so many other names and faces, and I see no need to revisit hers more than any other. I have little doubt that she will join my demons, and I will hear her voice again when my mind contemplates the dark, but... I will weather that storm when it comes.

So anyway. Here I am again, alone once more on the road of my life, and most likely it will remain that way until the end of my days.

A still more glorious dawn awaits.