Picking up the pieces is hard enough, but not as hard as sallowing the pride that drives you. Driving you with the desire to take the shards and hurl them, instead of putting them back into position so fragile that it wears on your skin like an antique wedding dress. It's been a while and time drags by but it does not disappoint. I havent written anything on the show past the death of blakes character and storyline. Ive got a grand total of half an episode, and over a month and a half ( i think) has passed. Partly because i have nothing more to say that hasn't already been said, but also because i need to rethink my approach on spectrum. My storyline cant take up the focus of a story like that. I only bring this up because i made such realizations at about 5:30 today. I was with Birttany going to barnes and noble and who do you think was lurking amongst the aisles of overpriced teen romance novels and other indesclosable filth. "hey you guys" she smugly greeted from behind. There were two distinct emotions radiating from her voice. one was intimidation, the other outward defiance. the type of distinct resonance that comes from someone when they are enticing someone but know they are asking to get their ass kicked. I responded coldly "hi" in unison with Brittany and walked away. there was no hatred welling up. no butterflies in my stomach restraining me from saying the most belittling viscious things i could imagine on the spot. Just an empty vaccum where once there was the will to care either way. It was as if i was saying hello to the whispers of the wind. It dawned upon me that i have finally reached the antiphasis of realization that Im beyond petty things. Its been a wierd time for me. I feel as though im just starting to grasp the sense that their is some meaning to everything, and perhaps im supposed to be here. But life keeps throwing curve balls at me. My car broke down on friendly and i had to have it towed. work is working me all day everyday. i had a pet squirrel it died. And the day i got my car back i almost caught the house on fire.
Needless to say worrying about the mellodrama of Blake is the least important item on my to do list. Or david zich for that matter. I had the displeasure of encountering him for what im assuming will be the last time. I find it rather humorous that he is on Adam 4 Adam browsing when he supposedly found his alledged soul mate. I cant deny that things are challenging. But it feels as though im in a bizzarre place where i dont care about finding anything, and at the same time, i feel most alone, most understood. Truely i am the veteran of the discard pile, forever unclaimed. Forever sifted over rejected. I refuse to get my hopes up on happy change, i no longer think it can exist for me. I find it ironic, ive stopped quite a few of the people i know from commiting suicide, but cant find a valid arguement for why i shouldnt end my life. I hope to god theres a reason for being here. I would hate to think that death is such a bad shot.
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