Hello Again Dear Journal
We are broken up again. And this time I know for sure that it was not my fault. This journal is such a good thing, such a good catharsis. I am so glad that I have it. I need it today. Wow, life is so strange. I knew in a way, in my heart of hearts that once we were physical again, we would break up. sometimes I think it is the way of men. Or mabye it is the way of people. But nonetheless, I think way less of him now than i previously did. And I guess that is expected. I no longer want to even be friends as I so idealistically wanted to before. I really took a while to learn what was right for me, and what wasn't. But I think that now I will break myself out of my cycle.
I am so idealistic about love. I think that it is this all encompassing beautiful tragically moving thing. But with me it always ends up being more tragic than beautiful. I don't know what else to do with myself. I keep doing stupid shit. But no more. I'm done with stupid shit. I just want to be happy and have fun, but i can't find anyone to enjoy life with, and have simple fun with and companionship. That's what I truly want. But it's not working out that way.
Love is a Machine
There in the back room
a silver thing sits
it scrapes its feet along the wooden floor
approaching slowly it lifts it's head.
I lift mine as well
I feel a tension overwhelm
a bigger feeling swells.
The gears turn in my head,
and in his too
the logical assumption is
there's nothing left to do.
We step back from the moment
entranced in the silence.
Each look we give
each subtle glance
is quietly laced with violence.
There is no love here.
Never was.
Emotion was a wind
it stopped and stayed a little while
and then it turned within
it didn't want to stretch and curl
and wrap us in its arms
it turned us from two living things
and robbed us of our warmth
it made us into silent walls
staring at the sky
it came a while
and stayed a while
and then it had to die.