regnis_alram

Every time...its exactly the same. My heart rips open bit by bit and I don't know if it hurts more or less. The longing and sorrow is just different and the enormity of the pain lacerates my heart and my brain leaving nothing in its wake but tears and loneliness. The day starts over and everything in perfectly in place until I think about his beautiful and ugly face.

I give up. I'm exhausted and don't want to try anymore. I don't want to squeeze lemons into small little glasses. The only thing that makes sense is not believing in the one thing I loved most about myself. The end!

I just fucked myself!!!!!!!!! There should be like a thousand exclammations after this last statement. I just drank too much and gave myself more liquid courage than I deserve and just sent my tattoo artist an e-mail asking him out knowing that no matter what he says I have to go back and get the rest of mt work done. I don't think MORTIFICATION could be said any louder. Maybe he will forget by the time I have to go back. When did I become such as arsehole???? Normally, I write little anonymous notes so I don't have to go through the turmoil of being rejected. Fuck, I'm an asshole...

Today is the third day in a row that I have been hung-over but not had enough to drink to be drunk!Addictions are not only substances that are consumed, for me it has been a combination of being in love with falling in love, a lot of booze and a little bit of snow falling up. In an effort to control these things I abuse I have found another weakness. The smell of ink, the buzzing sound it makes and the pain it causes on my flesh. The humming of the needles before it touches my skin is more like the calm before the storm. Its as if the emotional pain is manifested in my body all at once and it consumes me. I can completely let go without having a tear trickle down my face. Then I felt his hands on my back and felt strangely turned on and as he pulled my skin tight it was like his hands should have always been there. I had to stop him from continuing faking pain for lust when his hands were grasping the back of my neck. For those three hours I completely forgot about the only man I have ever truly loved and wondered afterwards if I ever loved him at all. My answer is still yes its just that I'm finally ready to let go ( I will love him forever as long as someone elses hands aren't touching me).

I'm truly sorry for every wrong and hurtful and debaucherous thing I have ever done up till now. I wonder if in another 32 years I will be capable of saying the same thing. have all the bad decisions I have ever made caught up with me? The only answer I know is a bottle of something, new tattoos and tear soaked pillows. I don't believe I'm capable of being any better than this....

This is how it happened again and I believe that I'm to blame for the loss of a heart that will suffer for eternity. When I opened my eyes in the city where it all began I realized this place was never home at all. It is a small metropolis of misery and shame. The whole existence of me is betrayed by hopes and dreams that never will be. Dillusions led me here and a love that I thought could not be broken...memories of a life I wanted so desperately to leave behind came tumbling down the street every time I was forced to remember something that I did not want in my memories. My grief for this place and my mother caused me to lose the one thing I held so close to me, like it was part of me. I have lost the one thing I loved most about myself and now I don't know who I am anymore or the point of suffering through tragedy. Loss of love and life all in the span of a couple months is more than I can bare. I do not have love or compassion left in me or a place I know as home. The blood that runs through my veins is almost gone and a new me will emerge whether I like her or not. I see someone I do not recognize and wonder if anyone else will ever know who I am again.

Change? As I take a deep breath in bed I know this will be the third night I won't sleep (or is it 4). I've been in a conscious state of sleep since Sunday. Dreaming still but states of panic awaken me. I'm neither here nor there....shhhh, I say to myself there is nothing to be afraid of; change after all is good sometimes. My mind rattles on and in no way can I tell whether these dreams are thoughts or vice versa. Limbo would be easier with some music and a pole. I want to wake up from my dream knowing that it was just a dream and wake up in a bed that feels like home.

This past weekend must have taken atleast 5 years off my life. Worth it? Of (fucking) course!!!! So, I planned on having a mellow weekend at ACl; enjoying music and sitting out in the hot hot Texas sun. Didn't turn out that way though.

My weekend sort of started on Thursday night this year for ACL. Spoon did a pre-show (best show ever)where I proceeded to drink and dance my arse off. I knew I had to work in the morning but that mid-night pre-show tequila shot was calling me. Or I was hearing the devil inside me trying to fuck me over. It went down nice with that 6th beer I drank. I actaully told myself I'm not even buzzed. Which as I reflect was a total and complete lie to myself. Nobody and I mean nobody dances like that at a Spoon show or anywhere else I hope. But I proceeded and as I was doing so I looked over to my friend Aubra and said something but this is what she actually heard "I'm dancing so hard I think I left my genitals on stage"...I only wish I said that. So needless to say, I woke up with a fucking hang-over and had to go to work...which wasn't the hard part. The hard part was sitting in the 1000 degree heat at ACL. I of course cooled down with a bottle of Vodka we snuck in and a $4 drafts of Heinekens I purchased. I felt better instantly...the day proceeded into night and I said to myself, I'm not even buzzed lets go downtown and try and get into that Arcade Fire show (which I already knew was sold out). We went and pulled the rabbit out of the hat. My freind grabbed some light weight DJ equipment from a friend at another bar and we walked right up to the front door (at this point neither of us could walk 2 steps forward without 1 step back)and said we were with band and are late setting up. It actually worked. I don't remember much of this so it is being passed on through the words of a friend. Apparently, once we were in I said, "Miles I'm so fucked up we gotta get outta here" so we did. Miles was cool with leaving and missing the show we had talked about going to all day but apparently he was pissed because I lost the drugs he put in my pocket...which I was unaware. So, we left and as we were walking down the street trying to hail a cab I turned around and there was the love of my life, Brit Daniel the lead singer of Spoon. I remember bits and pieces of this. Him shaking my hand and smiling and laughing with me and introducing me to his friends but what I don't remember is tackiling him on the street. I woke the next morning fully clothed with boots and horizontal on my bed minus $150 but the hang-over I suffered and I did suffer was worth knowing that I tackled Brit in downtown Austin. Ahhhh, we still have 2 more days of ACL. With that being said from Thursday night until Sunday night I slept a total of 14 hours. I said 5 years of my life right....let's make it 7.

That is the response I wish I had the balls to say to the guy I had been dating for 2 months, who wrote this in a text message to me, "Let's try to get together this week. I have every night available. Don't think I done with you. I'll explain everything later" WTF? He totally blew mw off for like a week and half which isn't long but if you are going to do be MIA atleast tell me something. With that being said, I haven't heard from him since and that was on Sunday. What a shithead! I think he has no balls or the fortitude to even be honest with himself. I wish I could tell him to go stick his cock in his mom's ass. I'm impressed, that is actually pretty crude :) I'm at a loss here, can anyone explain this to me?

unfortunately though I don't have anything to say. After suffering and quite miserably I might actually feel I have something poignant to say just not right yet though. My apoplexy is fading and I just might have some blood running through my heart again.

It seems after a passing of time that the nothingness would fade. It is now as present as it initially was when it consumed me. At night when I sleep I feel mostly awake. This is when the feelings of my abyss truly warrant the sadness I face during daylight.

This pathetic void is still relevant in my bed. I sleep on the same side I always have in hopes that one day I will roll over and he will be there right next to me. I wake from the nightmares that plaque me and always recite Langston Hughes’ poem, Dream. It soothes me but nothing ever seems to change. This soothes me but nothing ever seems to change.

All my great ideas are lost! I find myself only able to reflect upon my life in the few minutes between being conscious and not; the only true quiet I can acknowledge. That fine line as you lay in bed pondering the oddities of all your days. Laying in a fuzz as if in a drug induced state. Nothing makes sense, its as if my brain functions only in dreams and thoughts I could never think possible exist and I'm too tired to write them down and they are always lost and forgotten. Much like the feeling of love. How far can you stand away from someone and still touch their fingertips with yours. I can always sense the fingers looming but can never reach them. I don't know what the fingertips represent but they are always present. Always, always, always there and out of reach. Waiting to grab me out of the blue. I equate this to my favorite and most lonesome sound in the world. The quiet echo of a dying blustering wind. Its always escaping me and I can never listen hard enough to find where it is coming from.

Is there always something in my way!!!!!

First a little background info....at the age of 15 my father married a woman named Beth. Beth came from a Southern Baptist family. So Baptist in fact, her parents were outraged she and my father lived together before marriage. They were well into their thirties. Being an arrogant youth I thought this was ridiculous and made fun of step-mom regularly.

On our first Christmas with her and her family, I was now 16, they tried to share with me the joys of God. Even as a yute this was a hot topic of contention for me. I hated the thought of God and hated that he didn't exist even more. It was a struggle to bite my tongue which I tried to do to appease my father. By Christmas morning my efforts were weakening and I knew I wouldn't last. I made it through breakfast and lunch and thought I had made it through the worst parts of the day. I was WRONG!

At the dinner table my step-mothers father said "Breven, why don't you share with us your feelings of Christ by saying grace tonight". Without thinking I closed my eyes and blurted out "Grace is a whore". That is the only time I have ever come close to being hit by a parent.

You wouldn't think someone could actually get locked out of their car with the key in hand but I did just that. You ask, qua?

The only lock that works on my car is on the passenger side so, needless to say I have one lock. Which actually fell out of the car handle earlier this afternoon. Now I have no lock!!! Key is in hand and I'm trying to figure out how to get in my car so I can go home from a hard days work. Aha, the trunkis an option however I quickly discovered I couldn't get the seats down from there. The locksmith it was...she laughed and said I've never seem this before. She got it open in 18 seconds....I timed her.

Atleast it wasn't as bad as when I locked my keys in the car while the car was still running. The funniest part is that I didn't realize it until the movie was over. It ran for 2 hours...that car had a poltergeist...it just wouldn't die.I did that in highschool...yes, it was drug induced.

Locks and keys are all a pain in the ass. We wouldn't need em' if everyone respected eachothers belongings

Love is a malaise of events. A sickness that starts out as euphoric melding of tastes compressed by the tongue and roof of the mouth. Transcending through your body, obstructing your bowel and ultimately ending in shit. Leaving the mind impervious to its actions and how you arrived at that particular moment.