Much to Lisa’s chagrin and consternation, I haven’t updated the weblog in a while. Much to my chagrin and consternation, my life has been fairly convoluted since the last update. I haven’t worked on the website, but I do intend to upload my creation to the server. Eventually. Hopefully.
Though I’ve come to the conclusion that the work on the website is a lot more than is warranted. That is, it isn’t visited enough to warrant double digit hours put into the website. This isn’t a reach for sympathy or compassion; it is what it is.
I’m tired. Mentally and physically. Exhausted. So much has happened so quickly that it’s hard to have joy in the small things because the big things keep piling up.
But my resolve has weathered the storm. Battered, bruised, alienated, injured, punctured, electrified, disembowled – but still there. I can feel it slipping away though. Today moreso than yesterday. Much moreso than the day before. Even more still since the day before last’s last. That’s when it all happened, anyway, when the final piece was in place and my sheltered and perfect summer went to the wayside.
But, I must say, that I enjoyed every single moment of it. Everyday was a celebration that I may have finally made it. Every single moment. Thank you god for the joy. Thank you god for making my wishes come true.
That joy is gone and replaced with cold hard reality. This is my life, this is my worry and fate, and when life gives you lemons… if the shoe fits… and so it goes.
I’m angry mainly. And ironically, at the height of my anger, my fist is cut. And bitten. My whole right side is paralyzed and weakened from abuse that was sustained in passing. So no release. No whistling with the left fist. No satisfaction with the right leg. It just doesn’t feel right.
—
There’s a sweet fellow who works at ITS. I won’t mention his name. He has a weblog that I feel upon accidentally. He is the type of fellow that I could imagine spending many hours with discussing law (we had). Becoming a good friend. His weblog reveals more. Sweet, sweet fellow. Very intelligent. Heartbroken and insecure. A little like me, maybe. It’s an oddity to read his weblog from time to time and see the person he portrays at work.
—
My news came with her news. She had tears streaming down her face. I was much more lucky in the grand scheme of things. This and that, that and this, this is all she had. I heard first. I sat in stony silence, trying to be consoling. But my pain echoed hers. It was a strange dichotomy that acted when I received the news. I guess I’m not built that way. Maybe our relationship wasn’t designed that way. I’m never me in public, moreso still. I’m a charicature of a person who has grown larger than my 5’6″ frame. Me me would have consoled her. He me sat in stony silence, and tried hard to give me me a chance to talk with her. Eventually it happened. Sort of. I never really did get a chance. She gave me a chance, but he me didn’t give me me a chance. There was a chance, and chance not taken.
—
Had I listened to my senses, two other problems would have been avoided. I wouldn’t have broken ganeshji’s hand (which I’m still infinetely upset over) and caused so much vitriol in my parents home.
Unwarranted.
Damage control.
Involvement in business they had no business of making their business.
Tragic hurried upset phone calls over nothing. And everything. Confusion, inconsiderate selfish confusion.
—
Perhaps too angsty? Clear as mud? Bright as the darkest night? Sense my sense, feel my sadness, laud my resolve, fear my anger, be energized by my renewal to keep fighting.
This self indulgence doesn’t happen too frequently these days. I want to not let Lisa let the darkness of bitterness and resentment enter her heart. I keep myself small. Or try to. Be good. Be kind. Be considerate. Do everything. Be everything. That’s me right now, until I can validate myself once again.
When?
I don’t know.
But if I truly validate myself, in a way that makes all this better (in one fell swoop no less), mind you, I will have a party.
For myself. You’re invited. It’ll be the first and last time you’ll see my celebrate myself.
And if it doesn’t?
Well, I’ll pick up resolve, find courage, call Leesie and drive to a better tomorrow. Somehow.
Good night.
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