i once inked a pond and wrote:

the pond ripples
with the desire to
run into the sea
tired of a stagnant movement
wind only hitting it
against the reeds
still
waiting
to rise up to the sky
even just
to fall again;
the only excitement in its existence

it's odd how happy i feel
when i imagine myself dead

memories

these should be private, unopened, forgotten
held down, trapped, never shared...
because they're inconsequential

but there's an interested party
and for only that reason,
is it on a public interface as such;
and even so, possibly no one could read it...

.........

first impressions at the academy?

really, in all truth, i was so absorbed in myself, to say the easiest way, to be bothered with first impressions - maybe it came easier, the fact, because five people i knew of or knew about or fairly knew personally came along with me

even so - there should exist first impressions - shouldn't there?

shouldn't there - even when i was thinking here's my escape - and it wasn't so
shouldn't there - even when that escape was to another cell - and it wasn't so
shouldn't there - even when i isolated more than the voted hermit - and it wasn't... so... much

i felt downhill, since the academy, but maybe downhill was way before then... maybe downhill was at my birth.

maybe downhill is all life is... until the uphill - but so few may ever get there...
...steepest hill yet...

(i should've written this out first - but now i haven't it's all 'blah-sey' since i'm still a little buzzed...)

i'd rather talk about the moment "write" about the moment that is... than any past... i only write about the past when i'm sadly drunk - or sad when i'm drunk...

fin digress

maybe it's because i don't believe in first impressions...
maybe it's because i ignored most people's existence in that place
maybe it's because i didn't want to get invested in that place anymore than i was...

first impressions don't exist with me...

all i knew... were events that occurred... people who happened to catch my attention beyond their intrusion- most intruded.... others ...
so few of 'others' i intruded... and was glad to... and was rather well received...
but that intrusion came too late... oh fucking well.

there are no first impressions really... i think it truly comes when one is alone entering a place...entering also, in a certain way that they can allow first impressions, neither completely diving in nor ignoring as i did.

impression? he impressed me.
from afar.
and i only started looking,
as a joke, as a prom date.
and only he, i knew could be it...
i made sure he had no attachments, not any hint with anyone
because i don't like drama
in real life
and there we were.... and there we went. and there we had... and ceased.

academy?

i try to not... think about it ever happening.

i'm still recovering.

if anything - the only impressions...

were of people coupling up and off so fast and so long and such and such -
i tried my best not to do that - because i saw it as easily done...
if you went it coupled already - you were desired, but off the chart - unavailable.
if you were available... then you were went for...

sorry... i have nothing but hatred... for that place..
this is me on the fly,
trying to talk about it.
but there's nothing good from that place. nothing.

i met the good things before or after the place...
the one good thing i met... he's dead.

so fuck that place. fuck that place and die.

fuck the academy. it doesn't exist for me. it's best for me to imagine it now, as non existent

change is within
never without

"why did you fuck me over?"

he sits silent.

"you never cared did you? at least i pretended to care less, but cared a whole hell of a lot more than you did."

"you can't say i didn't care-"

"yes i can. you claim you cared, but all you cared with was with your dick. i've never let any guy fuck me over until after...you know what's funny? i had a nightmare with you in it... and i hate when nightmares come true."

"maybe you shouldn't have pretended to not care."

"maybe you should have been honest from the start."

"i said what i felt at the moment."

"never believe what you feel at the moment for someone you fuck. time tells with that shit. i don't even want to see your fucking face anymore."

"it doesn't have to be like this-"

"but it is."

"i think you have to be mature."

"i think you have to be feeling what i'm feeling, oh wait, you did this to me. fuck off and die."

she gets up and walks away.

regrets

i was talking with a. and k. today
we came upon regrets
and i was surprised that
after a moment went by
so many came to mind:

i regret that-

-i didn't run away
-i didn't shoot myself with that loaded canon
-i didn't cut deep enough
-i didn't run away
-i went to the academy
-i bullshitted my parents (esp. mother) for so long
-i ended it with him
-i didn't say "i love you"
-i didn't run away
-i started drinking
-i didn't run away
-it was you instead of me
-i became an alcoholic
-i didn't end it
-i'm still here
-i am not running away
-i am an alcoholic
-i'm still alive

and without the first two regrets...
i wouldn't still be here
wondering

it seems my purpose of living is to make regrets

alcoholic

idleness to an alcoholic
is like walking the plank
over a tank of alligators
with human blood on their teeth

an alcoholic prefers company
chatter, clatter...sex

an alcoholic prefers
like a customer to a whore
to pay for company
any company

more than talking
more than listening
that body present
doing likewise
thinking likewise

paying for sympathy

an alcoholic is better off
driven off the road
six feet of dirt as a blanket
a tombstone for a pillow
----

when i'm even half alive
and i feel nothing

i will not be inconvenienced.

when i'm even half alive
and i feel something

i would give the rest of my life
to it
because it will be the most i've ever felt
in so long