congratulations, kristin

you made success

full "On," or full "Off"

from me to a friend, about so-called black & white thinking in people with AS. it references sex, but it applies to many "B&W issues" with autism. especially important read for relationship partners where one or both have AS. read HERE (save to disk & read w/TextEdit if using Firefox on Mac; Safari is fine.)
note: i suggested medication as a possibility. i take that back. after 4+ years on an SSRI & several benzodiazepines, i warn everyone AGAINST medicating for "behavioral" issues. click on the "medication" label for more on that topic.

The Desire to Hurt Back

I wear a breathing mask to protect against the dust cloud that forms as I change cat litter. Today as I took off that mask after a particularly smelly change, I lost my grip on one of the elastics and sent it snapping back onto my skin. "Fuck You!" I yelled with a nasty expression on my face, then finished taking it off.

This isn't the first time I've yelled at an inanimate object. And I'm not even sure I was yelling at the object. I may just as easily have been yelling at my fingers for losing their grip. On one level, it's an "Ow!" reaction. An immediate response to pain. But the choice of words is clear: a desire to hurt back is revealed.

This is important to understand because I've been realizing the much larger implications of such behavior. Sticking with the current example, I am glad to have my fingers and the breathing mask. They are both of great use to me. I generally feel no ill will towards them. But I got hurt and whether it was an accident or not, my habit is to express the pain and hurt back.

Sure, my fingers and the mask are none the wiser. But I would feel guilt if my act of hurting back extended to damaging something (i've hurt myself more than objects, but have been known to slam something down too hard and cause a bit of damage). What if, instead of hurting sometTHING, I hurt someONE? That's where it gets dangerous because this behavior doesn't end at inanimate objects. Or maybe it does END there, but it begins with an inclination to hurt back people who've intentionally or unintentionally injured me.

It isn't difficult for me to trace back the source of this behavior. I look back to my mother who taught me to escalate a conflict, to my immature classmates who teased me endlessly, to the friends who lied and betrayed, to the boys who used my body and laughed about it, and the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness that arose as a result of so many being shitty to me.

Over time I became hyper-vigilant, suspicious of everyone. If you make it through my walls, become someone I trust and care about, and then you hurt me, in those instances of hurt you become one of them.

That's the feeling. The truth is it didn't take me long to learn the type of person who was hurting me. If you strike me as being that type, the kind who will hurt me randomly with little to no remorse, I won't give you the benefit of the doubt. Admittance to my inner circle requires that you exhibit a tendency to introspect and difficulty with the business-as-usual (anti)social behaviors.

Still, everyone makes a mistake now and then. And sometimes I make a mistake in judging someone else's behavior negatively. How I react at these times is a product of many variables: my mood, my stress level, whether it's a first time or repeat offense, whether the offense too closely mirrors something traumatic from the past, etc. I am generally more thoughtful about getting back at a person than I am an inanimate object, but there are still times when I hurt back.

When the factors lead me to hurt a person back, it often feels good in the instant and rotten in the long term. In most cases I later discover the person either wasn't trying to hurt me or that they were under stress and said something they didn't mean. Other times the person is doing just what I'm describing of myself: they believe I've done something to injure them so they hurt back. In these instances it's easy for each party to feel the other deserves to be hurt. In these instances a conflict can EASILY escalate out of control over something that could have been stopped if one or both parties had been able to express their hurt without the "hurt back."

That's the goal then. The expression of injury must not be kept inside. It festers, accumulates and predisposes one to a blow up rife with hurting back. But the "hurt back" is a terrible habit. It's a blight on society and it must be struggled against.

This is so easy to recognize and apply in this moment but not so easy when the mind is hot with pain and anger. We feel like a bitch and a fool if we don't stick up for ourselves. We are terrified of being used and abused again when so many have run us over. So how then do we learn to break this mechanism? How do we remind ourselves, when feeling so self-defensive, to shut off our own self, our own ego, and see through the perspective of those who have hurt us?

Is it even safe to do so? Is it possible to have lasting human relationships if we don't do so?

I think it's a risk, but a small one with great reward. We don't have to deny the validity of our feelings in the long run. We have to silence them long enough to see another's feelings and motivations. We can then use information from both perspectives to build a better response. "I felt very hurt by ___. I think I understand why you said ___ but not why you said ___. I'm confused. Can you explain it to me?"

That doesn't guarantee we'll get an explanation we like, or an explanation at all. The other party might tell us to eat shit and die. At which point the best approach might be to diffuse things by asking for a recipe. The point is, we can't force another person to de-arm themselves and resolve an interpersonal conflict peacefully, but we can refuse to fight, and we should.

To answer my latter question, yes, it is possible to have lasting human relationships that are full of nasty conflicts. But they won't be nearly as enjoyable or meaningful as the ones where both parties strive to resolve their conflicts peacefully.

Again, these are easy things to recognize now but not when the mind is hot with pain and anger.

I am human. Imperfect. I invested a lot of time last week in a communication that was taken badly. To hurt was not my intention, but my words in that communication led to another's hurt. I couldn't understand it. My brain only knew that I invested a lot of time in writing a letter who's goal was to resolve a conflict between the recipient and another, not to hurt the recipient.

That recipient lashed out, hurt me back. I struggled against my ego, tried to understand, but my mind was hot with pain and stress. I am human. Imperfect. Sensitive. I behaved wrongly. Days later I snapped and got digs in that escalated the conflict. Now he is silent. I imagine he's doing the responsible thing that I tried to do but failed at, that he's keeping quiet until his mind cools down enough to proceed without further escalating the conflict. If that is the case, I am so proud of him.

And I am ashamed of myself. I feel I should have acted better. Yet I realize beating myself up about it isn't a solution. So I view this as another opportunity to learn. I post it here to share my self understanding, and also so that I might look upon it the next time I feel the urge to hurt someone back. Perhaps revisiting the thoughts and feelings of today will be an aid in shutting down tomorrow's ego.

I submit my question again: How then do we learn to break this habit? How do we remind ourselves, when feeling so self-defensive, to shut off our own self, our own ego, and see through the perspective of those who have hurt us? If you have a method, insight, or find yourself similarly struggling, please share your comments so we may grow together.

"i/we love you"

i don't want to hear that phrase, or any like it, ever again.

not
ever.

it has been the precursor to, and justification for, cruel, selfish and ignorant abuse throughout my shitty little life. parents. siblings. family. friends. lovers. all. you KNOW who you are.

don't ever say it to me again.

ever.

if only they'd listened, innocence could have prevailed

(taken by someone i love, or thought i loved, or i'm questioning why i love her. someone who's questioning why she loves me, or just doesn't love me at all.)

i started with innocence

the-discovery-(CRW_3850)

ring finger... it'll never get used. off with it

(CRW_3714)

for me, being betrayed by "normals" is "just part of life"

i want no more part in "life"

every waking moment is fear of betrayal or the proof of it, small scale or large.

i want no more part in what YOU call "life"

and you're not normals.

years... i've given years of my life to you.

all of you.

and this is all there is to show for it.

now your monster is born.

shame on you.

all of you.

amazing Flash programming and art

here's something cute, for a change...
(click on the logo in the corner to go to the author's site)

holding yourself up on the morning lift

on your hand
a golden band
swallowed in fingery flesh
alludes to health brevity
and marital longevity
'round heart the two enmesh

life skills if not life mates

like riding a bike.
my lips to yours, your hands to-
how many more yous?

My secret for yours

I was browsing around on Post Secret the other day and came across a postcard that particularly hit home for me.
When I was 19 years old, my mother swallowed several bottles full of pills and ended her life.

She made several prior attempts throughout my teenage years which were less serious and more of the "cry for help" variety. Of course I didn't want her to die, and I told her as much on each of those occasions, but it wasn't that simple.

She wasn't an easy person to love. Her behavior as a parent was negligent, belligerent, inappropriate, and damaging. She was an alcoholic, she suffered physical pain, extreme loneliness, anxiety, agoraphobia, and depression, and she was my only parent. Other family members (my brothers) were rarely around, so for the most part I handled her alone. I certainly gave a shit about her, but it was often hard to show it. I couldn’t save her because she didn’t even teach me how to save myself. We fought constantly, and it is difficult to imagine ever meeting another person as unpleasant and aggravating as she was.

All of that said, my mother loved and she deserved to be loved. She wasn’t always bad, and the times when she was good, she was very good. In particular, the years she had the love of my stepfather (before his stroke), was sober, and had a network of friends were quite pleasant.

She had a shitty life, to be sure, and she needed many things to compensate for the bad experiences that drained her dry. Perhaps most, she needed kind shoulders to lean on. Instead, her friends died off like flies and there were no more lovers. She needed her family, but they were settled on the west coast and we lived so very far away on the east (thanks to threat of divorce from my father who died soon after we moved). She needed financial resources, debt forgiveness, adequate health insurance, and assistance with executive functioning. Periodic visits from my much older brothers provided only minimal assistance with money and managerial tasks. For decades, doctors kept her drugged with a medication cocktail that, well, if you’ve read up to this point, you tell me how much you think the drugs helped her.

No one that could’ve given a shit and made a real difference in her life did.

So many would argue that she made her bed and she should lie in it. But we all make mistakes. We’ve forgotten the meaning of community. My mother had none and she needed it more than most. It’s too easy for most of us to tell others the answers and then turn our backs and expect them to help themselves up with our wise words, and it’s too hard for most of us to actually invest the time to figure out what is needed and what providing role we can play.

Changing the World

Early one morning, I received the following email from Jace:

From: Jace Cavacini
To: ManagerMom
Subject: my life is so fucking invisibly unfair

don't let this happen to your kids


i just woke from several hours of PTSD-type dreams. one was specifically about getting screwed by believing i was the one single person wrong in a room filled with people who had no problem. the materials given to me were wrong!

i was vindicated in the end but it cost me stress and embarrassment and i was forced to openly disclose my autism in a classroom environment after already being terribly embarrassed in front of everyone by being treated like i was just being stupid.

here i am, woken up, angry, crying silently, knowing i'm the only person who will ever know that i'm suffering this way every night, how much it hurts and that the dreams' contents reflect EXACTLY the real life experiences that MADE me have PTSD in the first place. it's all fucking INVISIBLE and no one in the outside world can appreciate it nor is there any help, support or justice to combat the damages done.

this is why i exposed my life before the world on my blog and in nowpublic.com articles and why i disclosed my autism at work. the results are why i'm tired of speaking at all.

i sought public awareness. instead i found more personal harassment and injury. insecure and bitter people looking to make other people smaller than themselves so they can feel better about themselves (like john and jefferson and anonymous cowards on comment forums).

i received punishment for exposing my differences and the truth about the people who treated me so poorly. punishment for showing just how fucked up these things have made me. punishment for not just swallowing it all silently. how dare i speak up.

along with medications encouraging me to act on suicidal impulses and other impulsive thoughts, my very existence is agony night and day and there's no way to prove it to anyone. no justice. i'm just an example of life's losers. a loser by "being dealt a shitty hand."

that's the only admission i've received from anyone, even family. "well jace, you were dealt a real shitty hand."

that admission doesn't even come close to helping me because it's just hollow words spoken by people who can't perceive the suffering i'm living because if the suffering i lived.

how am i ever supposed to heal from something the outside world never accepts or understands? what is my motivation to to even try? on the outside, it all looks to people as though i simply have to stop having a bad attitude. fuck that."

I replied to Jace with the following:

Jace,

Thank you for sharing that with me. Although I am happy to say that things in our school are much different and more supportive, it doesn't change the fact that yours was not. That is just one of the many factors that influenced you. I think it's incredibly amazing that you survived all that and can talk about it in a way that helps others see that it is the rest of us who need to change. I have changed so much since meeting you. The way I deal with my children is much different today than it was a year ago.

Last night while we were helping the kids get ready for bed, Ian suddenly became extremely angry and started punching Steve. When he didn't calm down after several thwarted throws, I gently took his hands and led him away from Steve. Then I asked, "Ian, what has made you so angry?" He said something that didn't really make sense. So I asked the question again. Once more he said something very off topic. I asked one more time, slowly and quietly. His breathing slowed and I could tell he was thinking. Finally, we were able to discern that it was the way Steve told him to go brush his teeth that had set him off. I asked if yelling and punching had made him feel better - "no" was his reply. I told him when I am angry, a warm, deep hug makes me feel better. So, he sat on the floor in my lap and we hugged. I could feel his body relax and the anger leave him. I have you to thank for showing me that Ian's outbursts require evaluation and compassion, not punishment.

Over the last several weeks, I have been involved in a very intense argument with someone who used to be a good friend. Her children and mine have been best friends for 3 years. I thought she understood us and how we do things. She does not. This has caused us to part ways as friends, although we are trying to preserve the children's relationships. This is extremely difficult. She feels all non-conformist behavior should be punished, even if the intent was not to harm others. She just doesn't get it. Hopefully, I will eventually be able to help her understand the dynamics of living in a family with autism, but I am not holding my breath. Nor will I lose sleep over it any longer. If she can't look deep enough to see those things which are invisible, to feel them with her heart and deal rationally with them, then she won't be part of our circle of friends who are able to do that.

Thank you, Jace. You are changing the world ... one person at a time.

Love,
ManagerMom

mirror

i, like a mirror,
in closeness wear your image.
your hurt becomes mine.

phantom limb syndrome [Previously Unpublished]

"As I had been looking online for his current email address I discovered his blog (on Blogger, of course) and that he's in a 4-year relationship. That produced a jittery response in me, and for a solid hour it was all I could think of (foot-tapping and all). I was waiting at the DMV for my replacement driver license, so it didn't interfere with life, but I was still a little surprised that my reaction was that intense. Yes, after 16 years he still matters to me. Closure is never what I've wanted there, only acceptance."

i am not at all shocked or surprised. i was with jana for about a year when we (her & i and john&tammy) ran into kristin at Barnes & Noble. i had an intense reaction. It offended jana. It took quite some time for her to be "okay" with and "understand" the situation.

 She had never been through what i had been through. Her longest relationship was "dating" and it lasted weeks to a month or so. She had zero relationship experience prior to me and in the end it really showed, despite spending 7 fucking years at it with me.

 Lazy, selfish, insecure emotional child.

 i would have extremely intense reactions to crossing paths with her today. 

i have enough of a reaction to seeing kristin briefly through her blog, though it somewhat relieves me to find that she is exactly what i expected, as lame as that is. When she appeared at Barnes & Noble, i was pissed that, after months of not wearing it, i was wearing the hooded, over-sized sweater i had that she made fun of, and she even commented to tammy that i was "apparently still the same old jace" ... it pissed me off. i think i threw the fucking thing in a drawer and let it sit for a year or two before jana encouraged me to get rid of it with the clothing we were taking to the Salvation Army shop.

 It bothered me to continue to see [name]'s selfishness in her blog. It annoys me that judy never changed her address with the university, despite me telling her, twice, about mail coming to me. It would bother me to run into any of these people. Most of all, elise.

 i've fantasized about her showing up on my doorstep looking to make friendly and me telling her off, and then realizing that i am not sure i could [tell her off].

These things affect us. We only think we're beyond them because the parts of our brains containing these people stop being referenced. They go dormant. When something directly accesses those parts of our brains, we are shocked to find them still there, and then shocked to find them still the way they were last time. These parts never really go away. We just stop accessing them, for the most part. This is why i envy people who have made friends with their former lovers/mates. It allows a person to change that portion of their brain that holds the internal existence of the person and takes away the potential for future shock and surprise.

phantom limb syndrome, specifically pain, is the exact analogue to my loss of lovers. It happens for the same reason. It also happens because of the other things i said about memory of lovers in the previous email: the brain content is still there. In this case, though, that entire section of brain material becomes "illegal territory" because the removal of the "limb" is painful. This is why people try to close it off, shut it down and eliminate all paths to it. Pathways to these parts become active or available after long periods of dormancy by simply attaining a new lover or mate; it is by association with having had one before... "Which one was that? OW!" and then "and the others... OW!" [insert stimuli and responses here]

[written by Jace, previously unpublished. Originally written 2/2/08 at 4:54 AM - Intransitivus]

nastiness begets nastiness, etc.

posting removed per request of named individuals.

buy her book, she's neat

Katie West: low self-esteem

and, as avolare on flickr,
where i "met" her

(yeah, i'd like a signed copy myself)

do you like stories?

this might not be your thing but this, as cheesy as it might be to some of you, made me feel.
i mean really FEEL.

http://www.starblazers.com/comicshome.php#

me being a sucker for redemption tales, and all...

NOTE: the web page is in REVERSE chronological order. Start with episode ONE at the bottom and work your way up!!

The series has a LONG LONG back story, but this is well written enough to fill you in on needed plot elements. Just take your time.

i share what moves me emotionally, hoping people will learn from it to know me. i hope some of it reaches it's intended goal.


...tears....

who are you when you're alone?

i know who i am
do you know who you are?
which version are you right now?
which version is "the real you?"
when you're not under someone else's influence,
who are you and does it matter?

a friend, lover, care taker, trainer, controller, manipulator, transactional opportunist?

"i'll be better," you said.

this, is not. you're another step over the line.
"the counterbalance" it is not.
that's transactional thinking, which i don't do.
remember?

do you even know who i am,
for all your research?

i should have stopped.
december should have been all i needed.
now i know that it is meaningless,
who and what i am... meaningless.

you've taken more leeway than i've authorized.
but i guess i have no rights, right?

you're finding ways to fault me for your insecurities,
damn me for my honesty, and take a superior position,
just like everyone eventually does.

i'm autistic, not stupid, remember?
i'm not a child, i'm traumatized.

i know a lot more than it seems
and i have a great statistic for being correct.

don't come around again if "that" person is the real you.
the december you.
the aggressor
transactional relationship manager.

i'm so tired of false advertizing, taking the blame, and then being beaten for standing up for myself. so if you're not you, collect your possessions and stab me on the way out. i'd rather it be a real blade, in my flesh, instead of soured memories and hidden injuries for a fucking change.

women want a man they can change.
men want a woman who will stay the same.

everyone, male or female, wants to change me.
control me. shape me. be superior than.
so, why should i behave better?

there's no reward,
save for the limited, one year grace period,
plus or minus six months,
which sours soon after.

why should i continue?
give solid reasons.
the statistics are horrific and stacked against me, long term.

i should sell every belonging,
adopt out the cats,
drive far away,
end it all in isolation.

no notes to misconstrue.
no resolution for you.
no corpse to display.
no wishes to betray.
no memory
to defile and whitewash.

just... nothing
nowhere.

who are you when i'm nowhere?
you can be whoever, whenever.
what ever. no change, really.

this is not a threat.
this is a feeling.
it has a cause.

ultimately,
like myself,
irrelevant.

a message for h. e. w. m.

i miss the times when you were hot for me...
"snap!" you said...

i miss the times when you were open minded,
and thinking about what YOU wanted,
instead of being told who was right for you.

i suppose i only have myself to blame,
since i stopped the "natural flow"
in order to be "responsible" and respect him...

how foolish of me.

seeking the kind (can't live without 'em - ii)

when they are selfish, irresponsible and immature, they are but heartless deadly monsters with hollow words,

tearing at my flesh, my heart, as reavers, ripping me into strips of meat to be devoured...

vegetarian girl or carnivorous woman, there is no distinction; they are but beautiful and murderous predators.

somehow, there are others... different;

responsible, mature, wise, empathetic, self controlled creatures of thought and heart,

who follow through, in action, with the words which they proclaim... more than mere advertisement.

they save a part of me,

with each and every kindness given.

and i love these beautiful creatures of kindness.

it is a shame that the kind ones are so few,

and their acts of kindness are so outnumbered

by the reavers' spears, hooks, blades and arrows of selfish cruelty.

worse, still, some of the formerly kind

are made into the new selfish breed,

by suffering rape and pillaging,

giving in to the reaver within...

but, without those few loving beauties,

the true, the real, the thoughtful and the honest,

i would be dead by the hands of the beautiful...

the beautiful lying beasts.

it is for the love and the kindness i go on...

it is because of the lovers and the kind ones,

that i continue to exist.

trying to reason with an unreasonable girl

three years ago (as of September 2007) elise crushed my heart and soul. i did this to my fist after losing yet another round of trying to reason with her in chat. i beat my fist into the keyboard until blood sprayed around. my brain suggested that i might stop at that point so as not to break any bones (i've never broken any bones).

so i'm dangerous, right?

wrong.

this is me. my hand. my chest. my body. and this is what was done to my mind by elise. i did this to myself and a keyboard. the keyboard did not represent elise. it represented the irrationality and illogical madness that drove me to near insanity. it was me, beating the shit out of a communication device that failed. my keyboard. my mind. my hands.

other people's insanity is something i have a hard time with, being high functioning autistic. no matter how much i try to reason with someone, they remain unreasonable and my brain "short circuits."

i had to be told.

i had to be told that i could not make sense of something that was not sensible.

i had to be told that it is not possible to rationalize something that is irrational.

i had to be told.

no matter how hard i try to tell elise, or any of the others, how much damage they do, they don't get it. incomprehensible.

three years ago... and it still hurts worse than anything else ever did.

i've moved on in action and in loving, but this...
this is still inside.
it will never leave me.

not ever.

wanting to hold and be held

a few good days,

as i've written before,

usually p r e t e x t a crash.

it is part of the sleep deprivation

the t o u c h deprivation.

that crash is n o w.

tonight.

this m o r n i n g.

alone. open.

after a nice chat: a l o n e.

after nice email: a l o n e.

after a nice introduction: a l o n e.

a f t e r reviewing words

sent to elise

which earned me the most recent "called the cops on me" episode.

reminded why i am typing in this fucking little box,

on the fucking little internet,

to fucking no one. a l o n e.

b e c a u s e of her.

& her.

& her.

& her.

& her.

& i s t i l l want

e a c h.

& i can't touch h e r yet.

or her.

or her.

& i will never know h e r.

or h e r.

or h e r.

& her.

alone. o p e n.

wanting to be held and to h o l d.

can you i m a g i n e?

some of them act like i'm "dangerous."

the judy. the elise. the jana.

i appreciate caution

those who have not been with me

who do not yet know me; it is s e n s i b l e

in this s e n s e l e s s world of selfishness & opportunism.

but for those who had me

in their grip, o w n e d

why fear m e ?

with s w i f t n e s s they kill,

and .i. am feared?

closed eyes.

calloused skin.

irrational minds.

and i .m i s s.

e a c h

o n e.

in this crash, i would

a c c e p t.

i would o f f e r

i would g i v e

even e l i s e.

i would a c c e p t.

i would a l l o w.

after being m a d e fool of,

i would .s t i l l. hold,

t e n d e r l y.

i don't think they understand...

to be truly alone. none ever were.

they don't have that p a t i e n c e.

to be

alone. o p e n.

w a n t i n g to be held.

knowing .H O W.

to h o l d & 

.be. h e l d.

trying to meet with death

five thirty am. the only woman ever to show me loving behavior, asleep in my bed. i am not able to have her with me as long as i would prefer. selfish. i know it. five thirty am. she is in my bed and i am in my bathroom, fingers pressed against my neck, seeking a carotid artery. once found, fingers resting, pulsing up and down with the beat.

i didn't want to cut my vocal cords. i didn't want to dig. i just wanted to find one simple spot to open up and sit down to bleed out.

i fell to the floor.

ill.

cried.

thought of the
woman in my bed
cats, family, music, photography

cried.

i couldn't physically end my own life because it made me ill.

and this is where i am. i did not seek this. i did not choose this path.

and this is where i am.

laying at my side as i type, the only person to treat me in a loving manner. crying at each other.

it is not revenge i seek for those who have lead me to this. it isn't even justice. that's not possible. this is not what life is supposed to be. not what i should be doing at five thirty am, or typing at three fifty-five pm when i have loving kindness next to me. but it is what it is. and those that have lead me to this "place" in "my life" are many. no doubt several of them, females, have sought a meeting with death themselves.

from them, i expect nothing. what i want or wanted stopped mattering the moment they exited that space between intimate and foreign.

from the collective known as my employers, i expect the same: nothing. but i know what i want. this is not a desire for revenge. i desire to punish my victimizers. not like spanking a child. but that does have a sort of sweet sound to it when considered. physical acts are pointless. all they know is one thing: money. the only way to "injure" cruelty and greed is to take away some of its toys.

knowing the chances... i've been courting death.

if life springs forth from "woman," why wouldn't "death" be female, too?

i hear the ocean calling

outside my third floor window
cracked an inch to cool the studio
the sounds of waves crashing
on a rocky shore that isn't there

the shade flutters in and out
wind blows with intent
if i don't look, i can see it
the ocean calling me

you brought me here, now
throw me over the ledge

i want you to see me smash
at your hands, on the bottom

outside my third floor window
no air flowing from the opening
the sounds of waves crashing
on a rocky shore that isn't there

watch my blood run down the edges
along the cracks in my skull, lapped
your wolves of desire and possession
thrown to, by your haste and cruelty

see the ending you wrote for me
watch my water turn clear in earth tears

you brought me here
years ago now,

finish what you began

weak forces

you identify me,
become the synonym to my heart,
my needs...

i am everything to you
for a moment,
an unmeasurable fraction of time.

i enter your event horizon,
yours forever... then,
you reverse polarity

return to your origin;
the antonym of my heart.
i have no needs before yours

foreign matter,
you are immune to me,
eyes closed, deaf to my sounds

i was everything, and became-
...
yet you still remain everything,
to me.

each and every one of you.
forever, till death and beyond
if there is such a thing.

"the catch" turns 32

yeah, "the catch"
as in "catch 22"
"you're great, but you're not worth my effort"

she actually said this bullshit...
"jace, you're a catch,"

as she was snipping the line,
tossing me back into the salt water,
her hook still embedded in my torn flesh.

"a catch"
"a real man"

you know what this "real man" wants to do?
spit in elise's face, just like pat did.

another year of my life gone and
all i have to show for it is the bullshit lines
the erratic, selfish and cruel behavior
handed to me by women like her.

if this is what you are,
and how you've treated other people,
you deserved getting spit on.

all i am, today...
naked, cold, fearful, traumatized.
as you, and those like you, have made me.

i'm a tool

and that's all i'll ever be to women. a mascot. a target for projection. play thing. toy.

same goes for authority figures with their assholes where their heads belong.


the people who have hurt me the most are the ones i fell in love with or trusted.

fuck that.

the ones who say it the most know it the least

love
friend
flexibility
acceptance
working for it

SO MANY MORE!

fuck you. you don't know the meaning of the fucking words.

how about:
traitor,
user,
abuser
and cyclic "personality disorders" like
borderline personality disorder, and
sociopathy

some of you are even supposedly educated, self aware, lucid and introspective...

well fuck you, because you're full of shit. you're uneducated in humanity. and why is it that so many of you are females? oh, stupid me, because i SEEK OUT YOUR COMPANIONSHIP.

you don't know shit. except something to exploit when you see it. like myself. free validation. money, paint, cat, love, respect, tenderness, valuation, my life, my job, my sweat and tears... oh and free custom porn. free loving sex. free to nail against the fucking wall when you need to project the things you hate about yourself onto someone else instead of DEALING WITH YOUR OWN SHIT.

YOU'RE DANGEROUS, HEARTLESS, SELFISH AND CRUEL OPPORTUNISTS TAKING WHAT YOU WANT WHEN YOU WANT IT AND GIVING NOTHING OF YOURSELF IN RETURN BUT LAYING BLAME THAT YOU DESERVE ONTO THE CHESTS OF OTHERS.

and at heart, deep inside you, the place you hate being the most,
YOU FUCKING KNOW WHO YOU FUCKING ARE

and

YOU KNOW i'm RIGHT.

FUCKING TRAITORS.

this is my childhood santa

(click to enlarge)

people ask me about my childhood. i usually have nothing to say. a lot of the positive childhood sensations comes from my Nana. she spoiled me well on xmas and my birthday. in later years, we conflicted because it was now adult to adult. i eventually understood her and we made peace. at her death (which i personally do not feel was peaceful, and i will never know), i again said my words of love and admiration for her presence in my life. the thing that always confounded me about Nana was that she lost her husband at such a young age and never accepted the idea of ever having another man. "I had a husband. He died." she would say forcefully when anyone would suggest she make a male acquaintance. i don't know if this is her upbringing or her heart of hearts. every year, and this i admire, respect and love about her, on xmas eve night, she would burn two candles in memory of her husband. i never met him. He died when my mother was 16. This was terrible for all involved, especially my mother who was not expected to "need a father" as much as her brother "needed his father." But every year, every xmas eve, the candles. When i asked my mother, she explained why. i was in awe. it is giving me painful tears just typing this. so i will stop. but i will add one more note: if not for the heartless bastards at KU, i would have had more fortitude to include Nana in my life before she died. this is another thing they stole from me and my family.

more wasted tears

on things that people never meant to follow through on.
the harder i try, the more they reject me.
if i don't try, i'm called a quitter.
mixed messages, as always.
i know everything, and
nothing at all.

the key:
i MUST stop trying to reason
with those who are unreasonable.

but since i'm wired that way, i'm terminally fucked.

(listen)

image vs. reality vii (disappointment)

there is a great difference between
being disappointed by someone
and
being disappointed in someone.

the former hurts,
yes,
but not as badly as the latter.

windowsill

unlike the rain,
these tears fall silent
as the snow
beyond your window

as you never look close,
never will you know...
defenseless and open
i appeal to thee.

all facts and all figures
to know me, have been here
but you only wanted the happy parts;
(the rest is, to you, unappealing)

too much time
to accept what i am...
...two minds alone,
one within me.

you block out the unknowns,
make unknowables undesired;
complex and estranged, i am alien...
i am foreign...

(xenomorphology...
...meaningless to you)

i am not what you think...
you expect the unreal
the romance, the drama,
effortless, perpetual bliss.

but,
responsibility... no,
not for you
no, not this lifetime.

but, you only get one
and you miss,
i am this:

knowable
truthful
simple.

yet, complex you see me...
i've been shaped to conform;
expectation, socialization,
application of sin.

though, if quiet, walk softly,
listen you, and see...
in this little cage, on your porch
you may find me.

metal to cement,
blankets obscuring,
cold wind and snow
blowing through...

have a heart trap, set
with bait to attract me.
it sits, you must wait...
...with some patience.

awakened at night
in dark and with torch,
checking the trap
before cold becomes death...

and i am... and i see you,
through double glass doors
and i see that you see me, too...
(what should i do...?)

a hunter, monster, a fighter... i am not, as
timidly i appeal to your graces,
i caress you, i lick the gloved finger extended
in between bars you ventured, to test me...

Look!
i am friendly,
don't hurt me...
...i'm hungry...

by these simple things
you should have known me.

yet still i gave all,
dedication ever after,
patience beyond all i've known
my gentle touch and my love- but,

you felt nothing.
in the end,
when you were done,
you felt... nothing.

now here, with sleeping feline,
and otherwise alone,
i find myself thinking of you
(as always, i will)

at the glass,
watching tears
falling from the sky
without sound.

panic, because i care

i have a friend who is being abused. abused in a similar way to how i was abused by jefferson. subtle, mental harassment and torment. judgments, distortions, twisting of reality.

i told my friend: get out of there asap.

the description of the whole thing brought someone else to mind. someone who has been in my heart for some time. someone i had a very high opinion of...

... until she abruptly pulled the plug and deleted me from her world, citing MY judgment of her as the reason for breaking it off.

as usual, it was her assumption of my judgment. her abrupt solution to a discomfort: project the emotion to a target and cut it off. (and no, sairuh, this is not about you, though you did do the same)

why do these two people connect in my mind?

feelings...
respect.
attraction,
identification,
care...
love?

fear and worry are paramount, at the moment.

i am feeling panic.
first, for my abused friend.
second, because i decided to break the silence with the other;
i responded to her disconnection.

i asked questions.
because i wonder...
what abuse does she allow herself to suffer?

people don't think i care or feel for them, but that's the central motivating factor of my behavior with them. the selfish bit is that i like these people and want them in my world.

i have enough fear, uncertainty and doubt about myself and my motivations. but, damnit, when it comes right down to it

i never pushed anyone do to anything.
i never subtly intimidated
or harassed or
pushed and pulled.

i have always been, and always will be, open and direct.

and so i panic.
on the whole, society doesn't like honesty.
people don't like truth.
they do not like questions

they especially dislike being seen through.

what shitstorm will i suffer for these latest acts of
honesty,
out in the open,
blunt and direct?

time will tell.

i love {EDITED]

i love my family
i love my ladies

i don't think anyone understands that.

[EDIT]

so now my family can rot in the hell they condemned me to.

as for the ladies, they never believed it anyway.

for Nana

a love story

For those who are empathetic and thrive on the bittersweet truths of the lives of others, please see someone who has moved me to aching heart and moist eyes:

Bruce Hastings, aka, Josh Slavin, is a brilliant and troubled artist with one of the most compelling and honest flickr photostreams i've ever seen. Start at the beginning (page 43, currently). Go through it all. Images, words and comments.

If you are an art buyer or gallery manager, go through this photostream with care. The art will triple itself in value to those who see into it and get to know this man.

Josh is also online here (with his own self description), here, and here.

what i'm owed

i said i'd never hold money over your head...
...but you said you were going to be there for me.

now, thanks to you,
kutztown university
and these betrayals,

i have nothing.

so, you owe me
(among other things),

$379.78

for plane tickets that you wasted.
tickets you told me to get refunded
when i told you not to cancel.

tickets i told you could not be refunded
as you canceled.

to which you said...

nothing at all.

i didn't ask for it.
none of it.
and you quietly allowed it to stay that way.

all i wanted was what you advertised.
that version of "you" that you withdrew
after five months of selling it, full force.

leaving me to watch it wither and die
for another full month
as you changed

180 degrees

i fought with you
tried to reason with you
were driven to madness by you
and i stuck to my promise.

but love is not enough.

you dicked out on your promise
so i'm dicking out on mine.
you owe me.

i have a fucking mortgage,
cats, health problems, debt
damage, disability

and no fucking job.

responsibilities, you know?
no, you don't.
but you should know "damage."

you know damage because you
were already damaged goods
and it isn't within you to be better than those who hurt you

is it?

apparently not, otherwise
it wouldn't be this way

sitting in my email box,
for years, this gory reminder of
you dicking out on me

Total trip cost: $379.78 USD
Total life cost: without measure

i can't believe you did this to me
after i treated you,
in your own words:

"better than anyone has ever treated me"
"you treated me like a princess"

because i was,
in your own words:

"a real man"
"a catch"

and my reward was to be taken;
how you wanted it,
when you wanted it,

and ditched
when you were done.

"i got scared"

tough shit.

life is scary.
live it, for real,
runaway.

is your life still fun and games?
how many lives have you ruined?
do you even care?

i can't believe i allowed you in
especially when you had told me about Treg.
what you did to him...

i became the new Treg.

what a fucking fool i am.

wishing for angels

this is Ana Crisan. known as Spirited_Away, at flickr, which is how i "met" her. she is one of the first people to communicate with me when i joined flickr. she was one of the first kind people to share with me her experiences when i was bleeding my own onto my photo pages. she gave her words to help me persist.

she is dear to me for that kindness...

...and because she knows the kinds of truths about humanity that few ever see, let alone seek. she is dear because she lives on through experiences i would not survive. she is dear because she shows us, those who look at her photos, what the world is when you stop, remove your blinders and see it unfiltered.

beauty, humanity, survival, fear, death, disease, loss, the little things, the lost people, the size of the world from the position of being pushed down into the cracks... and even then... the beauty that is there, in those cracks, between the stones, the broken cement, in the mud, in the dirt, under the refuse, at the water's edge... in death and vibrant life.

my empathy drives me to help... when i had my original account at flickr, i left her this testimonial:

"a human soul i wish i could shelter, she demonstrates an eye for the lonely and abandoned, the sadness of humanity and the physical beauty she has at her command, in contrast to the darkness within. an inspiration and a reminder that some things are too precious for the suffering given to them."

that was the best i was able to offer. if you can do nothing more, visit her photostream and blogsite. be witness to her living documentary of humanity in its highs and its lows. be witness to her existence and see through her camera's eye.

if you can do more, please, do (offer gallery space, purchase photos, etc).

please note that she is very protective of her personal space and privacy. do not force. do not judge. do not coerce. i post this looking to ensure her existence goes noticed for the work she does as a humanitarian, animal lover and photographer. to ensure she goes noticed as a person.

any harassment will be dealt swift and brutal blows by myself personally and by others who try to watch out for her. so be kind.

i know nothing about what she wants, and this is me wishing for her to be protected from harm. i can do nothing more than this. people can save each other, but it takes more than one or three people making wishes and i am fully aware that i cannot even save myself.

now go see.

(Photo by Spirited_Away)

i fade... they do not

it's been...
what?
four years?

more?

7:16am and
i have slept six hours
without medication.

i just...
felt...
...tired.
needed rest.

Mona purring beside me...
a friendly telefriend voice said "good night."

"i hope you don't dream."

irony and prophecy as one.

eidetic memory:
some call it "photographic."

photographs don't stand up and cut you on their own

my curse while awake,
invasive awareness
without merit.

my curse while asleep,
scripts, players and parts
remixed.

more than four years on,
i still relive jana's casual abandonment

the new love interest,
there in front of me...
i am expected to be friendly and "reasonable"

these strangers, in the place i used to call home
stolen from me while still there by girl known as "life mate."

mated till something more convenient and exciting comes along
an act elise swore never to do... and then did... within months.

7am, i break free of this restless sleep world
the sound of my own voice
screaming at peter's cluelessness:

"i asked and asked and asked, and i
tried and i tried and I TRIED!!"

apparently she'd been depressed for years...
so finished with me, my things were ready...
plastic bag to take with me as i ran out,
drugged for sleep and still unable.

fleeing
being pushed out
to drive away... where?

i needed emotional validation more than sleep

and this is my sleep.

reward for seven years of
loving, mindless, stupid flexing
for someone who didn't want or need me

probably from the word "go."
once they have me... well...
there is no "next."

six months later, and then six more,
brutalized by the best lie i ever believed,
my all,
given,
refused, and

the more i offered,
the more firm elise's refusal

she, the destroyer...
my ability to trust women, hanging,
a trophy on her transitional walls.

how many since?
three? four?

self-focused, self hating, narcissistic nihilists
"wanting," but not having the maturity to "do."

the ability to let go of,
and deny any potential of,
responsibility.

yet demand entitlement to
whatever they can get away with

they can remember...
about as far as i can throw a 25 pound cat...
seven steps forward - nineteen steps back...

i know and see all of it:
their history, now and future
and i am just a role to play.

a part i cannot forget;
every scene is exactly the same.

etched with blades and acid
into frames, parallels,
patterns, branches
fatty tissues called "brain"

it stays F O R E V E R and i get to relive it
E V E R Y night

for the rest of my darkened, embittered existence,
the tease they have given, my crown of shit
worn lying down, in my bed of repetition.


and people tell me to just get over it.
fucking ignorant, antisocial assholes
with the gift of ego-reinforcing memories,
thinking that they are the baseline for normality.

two tracks uploaded to music page

go there

to those who care...

...and who actually behave in a caring way:
thank you

to the rest:
fuck you very much.

eidetic memory is worse than cancer

i will NEVER have you
but i can remember your beautiful lies like they were now, and
want you, still.

i will never be able to convince myself that i'm better off without you
and it will forever eat away my insides, until i am dead,
inside or out.

you cannot surgically remove a malignancy if it is memory.



[and a big FUCK YOU to the doctor practicing ECT at St. Luke's Hospital in Bethlehem PA for having the fucking arrogance to tell his patient Dana that "it will get rid of all those bad memories." You sociopathic FUCK. You electrocuted her ability to have a personality. YOU are the biggest cause of turning her from a human being with feelings into a borderliner, or another one of YOUR kind.]

imagine you did it

i stood there, arms open
back against the ledge, inches from loose soil
eyes to eyes, waiting to receive you

racing to me, excitedly
everything you thought you wanted
"a real man," you said proudly

the closer you came, your angst pursued
feet pounding harder, like your heart,
blind to my vulnerability before you

suddenly
promises nothing
meanings reframed

fearing for your OWN survival

almost there, but not slowing down
your open arms swung front, a barrier before you
you arrived with full force

stopping yourself, palms against my chest,
throwing me backwards, over the ledge
down and down and down...

you watched impartially
as i fell, arms still open wide
shock in my eyes

you turned, ran away
distracted by something new,
missing the death you sent me to

on the ocean smashed rocks below

.

the most beautiful lie

a seed
potential
jewel

planted within me
mind, body, heart, soul
promises and more

still there
and so vivid that
i'd be stupid enough to give elise another chance

i loved a lie
the most beautiful lie

she will forever leave it that way.

yes, i do miss you

speechless

.
A message that you sent could not be delivered to one or more of its recipients. This is a permanent error. The following address(es) failed:

s[...private]@yahoo.com

[...]
delivery error:
Sorry your message to s[...private]@yahoo.com cannot be delivered. This account has been disabled or discontinued [#102].
[...]

------ This is a copy of the message, [...] ------

Date: Sat, 18 Aug 2007 22:39:50 -0400
From: jace <[me at]dysamoria.com>
To: H[...] s[...private]@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: needs, desires and action to attempt fulfilling them


as you wish

------ [...] ------

"This account has been disabled or discontinued"
.
[there is no emoticon for this emotion]
.
i feel like a disease
.
non-entity
.
non-entity
.

(old) dedication to elise

these vocals were created for Red Light Ballroom's vocalist audition, years ago, at the time when elise was just about done pulling her cruel and heartless 180 on me... and frankly, these words could apply to several other girls too... cruel creatures that you are. lyrics available for the first time. sorry for the delay, those of you who asked.


some boys are fools.
audition 1 MP3
click here for lyrics

i chose the stars, she chose the sea.
audition 2 MP3
click here for lyrics

last confession.
audition 3 MP3
click here for lyrics

Words/titles/vocals by me.
All music by the amazing band Red Light Ballroom.
(Their URL is defunct. if anyone knows where they are, let me know.)

happy birth day

congratulations, you've made it one more year into your life

you are alive

you have options and choices

you will survive

be patient

find something good
something kind and
cherish it

make it grow and
care for it

be the unicorn

happy birth day
dear young woman

love is not an emotion;

love is behavior.



(-Andrew Vachss)

the more things stay the same

the sicker i become

anxiety

can't eat

heartburn

can't stay asleep

nightmares of unfair, uninvited, cruel abuse
and my inability to deal with it any more


i know what love is


more importantly:

i know what love isn't.

chaos

To: Jace
From: Traci
Subject: Re: COMPLETE Change in travel plan for Monday (that 1% mattered)
...[edit details]...

What chaos.

life is sometimes nothing more than the self-aware organ in the skulls of animals attempting to turn chaos into order. it is an untenable goal. better to pursue the eddies, streams and currents of chaos towards positive goals than to attempt to order them into an unnatural linear comfort. the more "intelligence" and "desire" we have, the more we fight. this is why i think the best life of all goes on under our feet or near them. sometimes curled up on our chairs or beds, napping in beams of sunlight, waiting for dinner, a toy to toss around or a friendly touch before the next nap.


dedicated to my girls

relief and kitty care in one package

Dear Sairuh,

Thank you for coming to check on me and for taking care of my kitty when he needed help i could not provide.

the big hug is waiting for you
and i think Kyaa loves you!

Next... Harri!!

-jace

the more i like you, the more i put up with & the more you get away with [edited]

As ever with my blog, the title refers to the "you" that is the "universal you." You could call it the "you" that equals "all you people who've fucked with me so far (and all you people who will fuck with me in the future)."

past girlfriends,
friends,
bosses
teachers, even ...

But, it also applies directly to you:

Dear [name],

As i have expressed to you about a week or so ago, my capacity to love and empathize, to accept and forgive, has grown leaps and bounds since jana ditched me. The problem is, it's just "capacity" (as in potential capacity of a tank or battery) but not actual "content" (as in fluid in a tank or charge in a battery).

For illustration purposes: People have coping tanks. Imagine the tank to be filled with nutrients that buffer against negative experience and keep us functioning when we'd rather crawl under the desk at work and cry.

The tolerance tank sits on the left-side tray of a weighing scale (as used for weighing the mass of objects against brassy metal "reference weights"). The right-side tray is where the "reference weights" go, only these weights are actually our "daily stress and toxic experiences". The more toxins on the tray, the more nutrients and supplements must be taken from the coping tank to "keep us going." The coping tank becomes lighter and unbalanced.

When the "amount of coping" in a person's tank is low, the tank's effectiveness is decreased and needs to be replenished. It can be replenished by positive experiences.

When this imbalance occurs without the requisite refilling of the tank, toxic experiences outweigh positive experiences and people feel used up, depressed, slow and maybe even defeated. To supplement and replenish the coping tank, some people turn to friends, lovers a god or dog/cat for soothing and escape.

Other people turn to suicide.

Some people have nothing left in the tank (or the tank has a hole in it). Empty tanks are to be found in the hearts of suicidal persons. When someone pulls the trigger or leaps in front of a train, the very idea of coping with another toxic experience is more intolerable to them than the loss of their lives.
:
:
My personal experience is that the same weighing scale analogy holds true for tolerance of people in our lives. The "tolerance tank" is fuel for censoring ourselves around annoying or toxic people. Fuel for getting ourselves through the animal responses of hitting, biting and scratching and instead trying to understand the things that have made such persons toxic.

When the "amount of tolerance" in a person's tank is low, the tank's effectiveness is decreased and needs to be replenished. It can be replenished by positive experiences with different people or, better yet, having positive experiences with a formerly toxic person (the relief to feel a fundamental change in a person from toxicity to empathy and loving behaviors is a real thrill - redemption is a beautiful thing).

The problem is, negative and toxic experiences weigh more than the positives. It takes at least twice the amount of positive to outweigh the negative. To make matters worse, the more imbalance, the faster the tank is emptied (maybe because we've opened up a new outlet hole to get more, faster).
:
:
i am comfortable stating that my "tolerance tank" is rather large and spacious, with a potential capacity that puts to shame the capacity of many other people's tolerance tanks. As i am confronted by irrationality, rudeness, cruelty, arrogance, aggressiveness, being shat on, blamed for the personal problems of others and just generally trying to give people "the benefit of the doubt" my tank's contents are drained away. Sometimes the contents are burned hot fast like lighter fluid. Thanks to my historically toxic experiences, my tank is nigh empty and the tolerance is used up quicker than it is replenished.

i "lose it" sooner than i think i should. i'm idealistic and naive.

But i'm only human, right?

Sub-human, at least?

Wasn't it you who declared me as "(mostly) harmless?"

i thought i could deal with your damage, but the more i give, the more your damage seems to need making a statement out of itself.

i'm sorry for picking.
i'm sorry i lost my cool.
i'm sorry i can't give more flexibility.
i'm sorry i allowed my intolerance of cyclic and toxic conflict to push me into hiding this last weekend. i was all alone and still am right now.

i'm sorry i overestimated my ability to cope with things that i believe you will eventually conquer (quitting smoking is a fantastic change).

As you sadly pointed out, the blame belongs to the toxic people who came before you (not concurrently - and i told you i did not want you to involve yourself with the phonesex terrorists because escalation is not a solution - something our government has yet to learn after how many wars...).

i have been naive; your self-awareness is less than i had hoped. You seem to actually gain visceral pleasure from admitting to being passive-aggressive, as though it is a power you can wield against your enemies.

i'm deeply saddened that you chose to make me your latest enemy.

Blame me, if you must, but i'm not the cause of the freakouts, breakdowns, insecurity, jealousy, rants and passive-aggressive behavior. If you study your entire blog and email correspondence over the last 365 days, you might see the forest for the trees.

Thank you for the good times. Your presence in my life has helped immensely and i wish the good times would continue.

Since you christened the "Friday Night Fight," the negatives became increasingly heavier than the positives, tipping the scale to dangerous disharmony.

i'm pretty sure that no matter how much i care (and your refusal to accept that i care makes me feel a compulsion to prove it to you), you are blocking any potential improvement between us. In fact, it seems that you were itching for a confrontation so badly that you had to engineer it so that you could stop waiting for it in anxiousness.

i feel i have done much more positives, made many more compromises and adjustments for your comfort than you acknowledge... and, yes, i have limitations. The tank is near drained and i am sinking into medication and self-injury fantasies... which is the total opposite of our agreed-upon goals of our relationship.

Did i attach? Yes. Can i just write you out of my life? Fuck no. Never have. They all still linger inside me.

alas...

i am like the frail baby starling, confused, lost and nesting in your apartment. You knew how to care for the bird. That's something i value, even in the face of your lack of caring for me. Quixotic, but then that's what attracted me in the first place.

My door is still open for a while, yet, but not for long. i have to stop giving so much "benefit of the doubt" to people. That's my own pathology: i try so hard to be accepted for the real me, that i fall down very hard when dropped.

-jace
...

i, nanite

from the outside, i seemed like you,
maybe somewhat quixotically variable...

my blog entries...
a merry-go-round
with action horses


the horses on the wheel go up and down
up and down
up and down
the horses on the wheel go up and down

- please insert another quarter -


build me up, draw me in
i filled you with substance
but i got too close

i knew too much

push away
away
and away

push me down
reduce me
make me smaller

i fall small, and then down
and down-down more again,
between floor boards, dodging dust mites,
past the dust, and still falling

i wave at bacterium
on my way through
(they don't try to eat me,
i shrink too fast to pursue)

molecules come into sight...
polymers and zeolites...
cotton, silk, wood,
proteins, starches, cellulose

i can almost fit between the atoms...
hydrogen, oxygen, carbon
beckoning and inviting me closer

suddenly, i snap into place

the new molecule has become

i am the brain
nervous system and
pilot's den inhabitant

a limbed Buckminster Fuller molecule,
with motivation and thought,
an intelligent organic machine

i, nanite, have become.

i could repair the smallest tear
heal the most corrupted of cells
and build diamond stairways to the gods

but, then,
you wash your hands

the surfactants attack...
amphiphilic organic compounds...
...heads and tails, teeth and nails

anionic, cationic, non-ionic
zwitterionic
soap, detergent, cleanser

again, reduction...
puncturing my surface tension,
my water-oil intersection

but no mere surfactant you use...
a solution of pH less than seven...

you're cleansing with acid,
exothermic disaster,
pitted, oxidized, my structure collapses

my atoms a scatter,
separated, unmade...
strong force... now weak

once a person, now massless matter,
i am flushed, expunged, i am purged

a drain, a hole, a theory
quantum tunnel, mouth agape,
away it takes me...

turning me, from your world,
into theoretical mathematics

.

crackle, pop, burn, ow

stage
frying pan

spotlighted, in your scope
oil leaps out
shots fired

little holes, small spots
plausible denyability

can't see the wounds
wont believe you can make them


kindness or unsugarcoated love
nurture you
escape from you

no matter what i say
or do

i am just a player on your stage
and you will make me out to be
whatever your fear and ego desire

it was always your show
and will only ever be

i am not allowed
speaking parts

nor to place my hands upon
my own puppet strings

the best i know to do is just keep taking the blows

multiplicity

Cross and extended post from my "MySpace" blog
Current mood: awake
Category: Romance and Relationships

• do you put artificial limitations on how many different types of food you enjoy and only pick ONE?
• do you love only ONE of your children (if you have multiple)
• OR (for parents of "furry children")... do you love only ONE of your cats/dogs/reptiles/etc? (i know, reptiles are not furry)

What makes people think that one love,
one mate, companion or friend
is enough to meet all needs in the area of intimate human relations?

politics? religion? practicality? fear??

Yes, it's more effort to manage a more complex personal life, but if you have the ability to love and be loved (and you're able to choose to, and act on, being loving), you're already outdoing the majority.

i've been told "i love you," (or it's been implied) by unloving people so many times it makes me ill. They don't know me at all; they never did and never will because they're incapable of follow-through. The most sensitive, empathetic and peaceful person i am involved with has read/studied my online user manual (this blog, my flickr account, etc). If only that were more common. So few really bother to get to know me at all. They just want fantasy and assume all their ego demands. But then, they usually don't know themselves, either, and are annoyed when i reflect to them a more accurate image of what and who they really are. It's a talent, skill, brain oddity. 80% of the populous, say my doctors, are less capable than myself.

If you're unable to love or be loving to more than one human being at a time, maybe you're not really able to truly love at all.

Love is a feeling, but it's also a choice.

the flirt

i give out directions to my online manual

i don't really know how to flirt
like a "normal"

after the fact, i realize behavior of mine is flirting
but i don't seem to do it well and ...
well...

i'm just kind of abnormal to begin with

i've flirted with death
but her attention was elsewhere

i've flirted with danger
but i'm no thrill seeker

now i try to flirt

with potentials
attractions
beauty
art


flirt back, if you like
i assure you i'm harmless
and i enjoy human contact

be animal, be human, be real, be kind

fear not the desires
the needs
and wants

we are made as blood for blood
skin for skin

we eat
drink
piss
shit

we lust
we fuck
amongst that, lurks something called
love

or the potential for it
if we stop building walls

but again, sometimes not
sometimes we're just animals with needs
and we ARE animals
all the time, from birth to death

either way, it's valid
our overdeveloped fore brains say otherwise
mostly from religious programming
social [ab]norms that build inhumane societies

fuck shame

shame is for embarrassed, sexless gods
and the repressed followers of such

be animal
forget walls of foolish nonsense

be alive
forget ego and id

be you
not what you're indoctrinated to be

feel
because some day
you will die

make it worth the time
but be kind

all the other animals feel just as much as you do

have it your way

i'm the bad guy

again

always

you can have it

you win

fucking end me

why did i bother trying?

"We finally decided boys had feelings...

... so that we could hurt them."

still open, 24 hours a day

top
bottom
unlocked

you are welcome to visit, girl

if you want to



if you want to


.

trust

trust includes not going wonko on a friend when you experience fear and jealousy about something you said you would be okay with.

trust isn't something you force or declare.

you earn it.

you want something positive?
don't stomp it out prematurely and defame it.

you want out of a bad life cycle?
step out and do things differently.

you want someone to care about your feelings?
care about theirs.


you want trust?

earn it.


and for some meaningful reruns...

the blackest heart

you can never know what lives inside
until it comes spilling forth as bile
in dreams of hate and betrayal
my teeth fall from my mouth like my mind

crumbled, shattering, splitting, bleeding
drugged to suit the ignorance of the mundanes
dying a death worse than any i've attempted
my loved ones laugh as i cry, and i hate them for it

i voice my pains and suffering
spitting forth my lost love and trust, with teeth
they ridicule and pass judgment, same as always
as my blood turns dry earth into clay

their hate for my existence shows no bounds
not even the mindless autolove of family
i cry, i scream, i damn them, and they know nothing
then, like crushing a fancy pastry, i have torn open a throat

the ridicule, suggestions, to overcome what has gone before
a final knife into my mouth to stop its toothless laments
threat of hospital and doctors ignorant, sense and reason fall to the floor
like leaves, with blood and death in the wind, blow it away, forget it all again


Erika speaks of a vacuum; i just dreamed of mine again. impossible horror, unbelievable suffering, and no one ever learns. i have never had such sickness come forth as this, the most fucked up dream i've ever endured. the cuts run so deep i don't want to sleep any more.

i have feelings

it needs to be repeated.
over and over.

for elise, rachael, jana, john & tammy, teachers, doctors, etcetera

i have feelings, you know?



this is a link at the right, but who's actually clicked on it?

always the asshole, never understandable

defensiveness.

it is the key poison in all my relationships.

and, for the most part, it's not mine.

it's theirs.

somehow, i'm always the "judgment maker"
the one "looking down on."

and so, instead of acceptance and understanding...
i am rewarded with antipathy and defensive assaults.

wasn't looking for a fight. it finds me, though.
getting called on my lack of giving people a chance...
just spotlights their utter lack of seeing that i have.

yes, i have feelings, too.
but they never count.
whatever's been done to them,
they will do to me and defend it.

retroactive revenge
self determination

blah blah blah

been there, done that.
thanks for not understanding.

i'm supposed to be used to this now...
the inferiority complexes. the insecurity.
the way i am always the badguy and never the bride.

or something.

this is exactly what i was not looking for.
apparently i still have massive problems with expectation management...
hope is a fucking shithead.

whatever.

doesn't count what i think...
except as a weapon for judging me to be a judgmental, self-limiting cunt.

all that really matters

human contact
respect
honesty
kindness
being real
actually trying

follow-through

it feels pain

i cannot even give my FAMILY the better part of me.

why should i even try to give anything but the raw truth of how i feel to those who have squandered my love, my friendship and been utterly destructive to me and my relationships?

you fuckers stole my life
and i still want just ONE of you to come back and make good on your bullshit promises.

i am reduced to snot and sea water seeing photos of family i haven't talked to or seen in over a year, yet i don't have in me enough energy to be with any of them.

why do i still feel any connection to YOU PEOPLE who still poke at my insides because of how you treated me? why do i still want you to be what you claimed when you clearly never intended to be and never will be?

why do i still feel bad about wanting to tell you to FUCK OFF for fear of pushing away some stupid fuck all fantasy that someone like elise would come to me and make good on all of the shit she fed me or that jana regrets her choices or whatever the fuck else

this is fucking stupid

i am alone in every way and all i have are fantasies about the people who made permanent rejections of me and fantasies about the people who exist on the other side of the glass.


i hate this.

it hurts and none of you ever take responsibility for a fucking thing.

what the fuck is wrong with me for still wanting what i clearly will never have!!???


i have a heart. literally and figuratively.

it's fucking broken.

it feels pain.

in the dark with myself

and my cats

they don't know what the fuck i'm doing. no patterns or routines being followed today. cold sweats just got to be too gross and i just couldn't stay unconscious any more. so here i am. out of bed. sitting downstairs. where i never am. doing something i have been hiding from for a while.

this, my only connection with the world. this thing. this internet thing.

it feels good to connect to people, but the connection is so small and so ephemeral.

glass wall.

i've gone on about it before.

i miss people.

but i fear them.

and i most fear what their fears do to me.

their fears and their casual insensitivities

i have a 20+ day-old email in the old email account from the best friend of the girl i thought i was going to grow old with. a waste of seven years. friends and all. and this guy keeps trying to be my buddy with an email once a year or so.

"this is life, nothing is certain..." is the title. i have not read it. it already smells like a lecture. or a "get over it" kind of thing. i fucking hate those kinds of things. yet, my character is to not ignore people outright.

just as i made eye contact with and acknowledged tammy at border's... but, it wasn't enough. she had to pursue me to the checkout line and stand there just off my peripheral view with body language of expectation. as though i'm supposed to react in some specific way. what do you want me to do?

and then i get the "well, hi"
with that tone of "what's the problem?"

i make eye contact again and say hi.

i can't remember the rest. i just know that i am tired of the same old shit. some people don't seem to ever evolve or grow up. usually the ones who slam me for not accepting that people change.

same old shit.

just like the same old shit i had to deal with at Dave's wedding reception. i had to hear that same arrogant "better than" attitude from john about something that i dared make an expression of interest in... to someone else.

"...oh they're just the pussy form of..."


always has to be some complaint. something wrong with... everything. anything i like. anything i show interest in. always something has to be not good enough. i wasn't even talking to him when i answered the question that someone else asked me. i was more polite and friendly with them that day, but ever since then, this has just gotten more and more sour.


nothing is ever enough

well you know what? these wounds don't heal by the time you take to forget there was ever any conflict. these wounds do not heal by repetition of the same attitudes that drove me away from you.

in fact, with you, these wounds do not heal.

they can't.

you don't do your part.

it's all on me, as it always was.

Expecting jace to APOLOGIZE




so at border's i gave tammy the eyebrow acknowledgment. it wasn't good enough.

last time pete emailed me, (about 9 months ago?) it was "wanna talk?" i thought i was pretty clear about things in my response.

each time i responded to each of his emails.

that last time i even gave him the address to my site. isn't the blog enough? do i have to get "life lessons from pete" in emails?

your best friend stole seven years of my life with heartlessness and carelessness. what more must i give? what is there to say between us? nothing was ever important enough to any of you, if i cared about it. nothing was ever acceptable by you, if i did it. you never acted like a friend should act.


in the dark with myself.

it's better than the continual brow beating and psychological shrinkage that my "friends" and my "lovers" offered.


and still.... i feel obligated to read and reply to an email that i know hurts me just by being there. something they will NEVER understand.


what more is there to say?

Sara said

"stop messing around with girls and
find yourself a real woman"

i tried, Sara

one used me to put on the show of
becoming a real woman

the other was false advertising i bought,
hook, line and diving weights

one told me that age didn't matter
and disproved it over seven years of interpersonal childishness

the other was just going through a phase of adulthood
which she shed the moment it seemed she might actually have to grow up

both the same

two more after them, but by then
my heart had stopped working quite right

and now...
after suicidal ideation,

after self destructive acts,
to prove i exist, in my isolation

games played with suicidal gestures...

i am right where i started:
alone, needy, and wanting

women, love, attachment, togetherness

idolizing those who impress me...

am i ever destined to get
that which you (and elise, and jana)
claim i so rightly deserve?

one refused age discrepancy as any reason to worry

the other claimed she wanted me... for i was "a real man"

i want and i pursue
those i will never have

either because i am pursuing my stupid romanticism
or because they are pursuing gratification of an ephemeral phase

some beat on my door to be let in
when i can see they are just as the others
and i am not fooled, for a change

but where are the real women?

i think i am living in the wrong world

this is not my life to live
this life is not for me to enjoy

i am just the phase
the example

the curiosity that loses its shine

the gold coin that becomes a copper penny
once she dives down to snatch it up

she will swim with sharks, and bring them to bed...

but me?

i am just too much responsibility
too many demands

where are the real women, Sara?

i only know the same girl
over and over

and she is the only one who lets me in...

...for a set amount of time and then i'm OUT again, and
i don't matter any more [never did]

where are the real women
and how would i know the difference?

i needed you, elise

to be a grown up
as advertised

a life that's more than just you
running from yourself

distracting you from you
by seeking the next new thing

doing what you want,
owing none to anyone

being that woman...
the complete adult...

more than just a set of goals for your image
working, professionalism, travel...

but you're not compatible with relationships
anything personal that asks of you, isn't worth the effort

responsibility doesn't mix with desire
your desire for convenient and exciting connections
that have no need of maintenance or work

you talked it up,
"i refuse to give up because it's hard right now"

but you only said it to influence my perception of you
for some reason, your advertising words still mattered

and then, they didn't
not worth it

you lied to me, retroactively
greedily consuming the quicker route to gratification

convenient desire

your claims of adulthood, responsibility to relationships...
you chose to rewrite: "later, not now."
as was convenient

you never needed me
you needed me to need you

so you could believe you deserved long term desire
true love and dedication

but,

fearing actualization of what you claimed to be,
you needed me to not need you any more
the job was done, you were over your dry period

it was time for escape again
fast sex, homeless abandon
nothing to tie you down
or hold you to what you claim

you chose to reinterpret your words,
and mine

easier to have no responsibility to it

no guilt in dicking out on others
like they had so often dicked out on you

"jace you have no idea how many people pulled out on me too soon"

because it had been done to you,
it was okay for you to do it to me;

you justified it and said it without remorse:

"it's self preservation, jace!"

i needed you to be what you claimed
during your advertising campaign

the complete and true woman
personal life and professional goals integrated

a real person in the real world
sticking to your word

not a childish, selfish runaway girl...
not like those who had mistreated you

or those who had mistreated me...

which you had actively campaigned against
and eventually just became,

with bravado and hollow words:

"i didn't want to leave you right back where you started"
but you did and you chose it

"you're a real catch. you'll find someone, just get out there."
a catch you chose to discard

a lie you wished me to believe
to make it all easy

easy for you

tall, modelesque beauty
loved by any man

when she wants them to

in place of your promises,
you left hollow words to ease your shallow guilt

to disclaim responsibility

"i can't deal with having ruined someone's life.
it's too much responsibility!"

but you choose to create your debris anyway

like jana,
you dirtied me with your use of me

right back where i started, only

hurt worse, faster
damaged more, longer lasting

once the excitement was consumed and gone, and
so you could easily move on, appeasing your fear of growing up,

you just needed me to conveniently need someone else.

i needed you, jana

to grow up
with me

into a life that's more than just you
doing what you want,
in the easiest way

becoming a woman...
a complete adult...

...you portrayed it in your acting world
working, professionalism, travel...

none of this belonged in your personal life
i didn't belong to the new you

responsibility doesn't mix with desire
your desire for convenience

you did the least possible for home and mate,
and then lied to yourself, greedily consuming the other boy's lies

because they met your need for convenient desire

your self interest blindly poisoning your professionalism
which you chose not to see; it was inconvenient

you never needed me
only belief that you could be loved and desired

having an easy replacement
you needed me to not need you any more

you chose to be blind to how i loved and cared for you
easier to have no responsibility to it, no guilt

i needed you to be complete and true; integrated
a real person in the real world

not your mother's daughter...
but that's who you became.

once used,
you just needed me
to conveniently fade away

be my temporary valentine

pretend, for me, that
love is real, and
that i matter

use me
to self satisfy and
validate your desirability

dry my tears
make love to me and
fool me into believing

.

we will never marry...
nor explore those fantasies, together

.

you are certified to dive deep,
teach non-natives to speak,

to make me cry, a fool
who, despite your violation,
loves you, still

just call me "Treg"

just as a "toshi" is a willfully selfish thief of
someone else's life love...

a "Treg" is the debris elise leaves behind
when finished violating a lover needed no longer

phantom love

the only evidence of sleep:
dreams i don't want.

they're either repeats
or false answers

.

almost 12 years later
haven't seen these people since...

there's Becky,
another foolish crush i had

but now she talks to me
shares with me about her life

i admit to always having been attracted
surprised, she takes a liking to the idea

someone else, who had been claimed as interested
takes my existence as an offense; jealous?

words exchanged to cause hurt
i defend myself, and then Becky

first, a hand on shoulder
then, arm wrapped around

she turns round to make it a hug
and i feel desire for me and,
for the first time in years,
a feeling of true bonding

.

as i lay on my back, i step forward
from sleep and the comforts of phantom love

sensations that will not stop,
though the connections have been severed

the bonds broken and
potentials long lost

.

just a dream
of people i've not seen over the last decade, and
what i need to feel and cannot have

phantom love syndrome
though limbs long since amputated,
my mind will allow me to awake to the bitterness
of disappointment... reality:

nothing has changed and
i am still alone.

this is how it is,
how it has been,

as it ever will be.

my foolish fantasy

is to reach out to you
for us to touch

to find that fantasy
and foolishness
are not so

and that love can be

if we choose it.

whitewashing my childhood

My mother wrote:

"After you brought me that tin-type picture yesterday, my wheels got spinning. Rather than to look for photos representing childhood distress to you, to document crisis, I would recommend that you stir up your memories of good times, activating those brain cells instead. I have been reluctant to open Pandora's box enabling your ruminations, by giving you free access to all photos."

i had the following to say about it:

i knew something intentional was going on. i wish she would have been direct about it before. i don't like being "delicately redirected." i sense the reality and it annoys me. But this is prime example of what i refuse to allow be done to me. i am not at all interested in sugar coating and focusing on the happy crap. Frankly, there is very little happy crap. Worse, it continues to allow people to hide from the reality: i've been fucked over, repeatedly, throughout my life, because of something that's not my fault, that i've been fighting my whole life. It's time for reality to be insuppressible about this topic. i wont have people running round "pretending the holocaust did not happen." i'm sure people in general would take my analogy as supremely self centered and offensive, but i feel this offended by my experiences at the hands of most of the world i've dealt with up to now.

This came up because i was mentioning that i HAVE taken positive actions to heart, only to have them be drowned in the quicksand that is everyone else's treatment of me. Tonight i had to make an all out slam at [my father] for complicating things for me with the car and the medical coverage and i HATE that it has to come to the point where all i have left is to respond in a pissed off manner. i love my parents. Yet it drives me mad when they GO TOO FAR. i don't have patience and delicate tolerance left any more. Especially not for those who have been the closest and still refused to accept what i've been trying to tell them for ages. The facts should speak for themselves, yet no one lets them in. i've been RIGHT about way too many things to continuously fight with everyone on my credibility when i say something informational.

This then lead me to my artwork of the last year or so. It is me saying "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!! STOP TRYING TO CLEAN UP THE TRUTH!!"

crying like a fucking child

i wish i didn't feel. i wish i didn't need. i wish i could just be a fucking asshole sociopath. or a scumball guy. just get my kicks any way i can. fuck. fuck you all for fucking me up. and i still would hold you in my arms lovingly, despite being fucked over by you childish girls pretending to be women. i'm such a fucking fool. i want you still. i love you still. kristin, jana, elise... treat me like dirt. use me. fuck me over. abandon me. and i still love you. and i still want to be held by you.

i am such a fucking fool. i should be killed for my stupidity alone. i don't belong here in a world of users and abusers. i don't know how to be like you. i just want to be loved. i'm a fucking retard.

are you out there Ruthy?

we met in hospital
primitive medicine

you intrigued, and confused me, but
i tried to be as respectful as possible

i knew when i handed you my contact info
you were not likely to use it
(thank you for the kind hug)

but i think about you anyway
and i wonder

i hope you are well

one day left

another fucking friday
known to me as
"go home alone day"

as

everyone else
has something
waited for, waiting

places to been there
things to pretend
people to have (or take for granted)

hopes and dreams
all laid out
bright shining futures

for me, nothing

a lot lost in ten years
now, one day left
31

decade 4 begins
32nd year of...
pointless suffering

three decades
nothing to show for it
but pain, breakage, fear

no career
no dreams
no hopes

no one to go home to
no one coming home to me
those belong to other people

but who cares... i don't need
careers, dreams, hopes or love
they're always lies

ALWAYS

for me.
i don't exist;
you don't believe in me

you don't afford me
the same humanity
you so righteously demand

yet, i wait
waiting...
waiting for godot

no experiences along the way
worth writing about, but
this thing in my head records all

for later analysis
replay
forced feedback

just to remind me:

i will always be invalid
in the eyes of humans
the so-called normals

the selfish ones, too lazy and heartless
to think about how i must feel
when they change their minds

or lie

what's the difference?

none, and
so what?
fuck that.

i want no waiting
no fucking birthdays
empty life lived for others

constantly having to prove
justify and explain...
defend my existence

i have given of my mind
of my heart
my blood

in return?

"INVALID"

one day left
nothing will change
there is nothing to change

i've done my part

flexed
bent
broken

tolerated you

your palpable
thinly veiled
hatred and scorn

your disbelief
betrayals and
invalidation

you want me to be happy

so you berate
scorn and
vilify me

she doesn't understand
never did, but pretended
she will never understand

when there is something to take
i belong to everyone
when i need... no one is there

i'm supposed to smile for you

as i'm used and binned
move along, open arms, cheery smile
for the next needer

i'm supposed to be happy for you

be attractively positive
when i am left, repeatedly
empty handed and broken

well fuck you then

you don't know me
nor ever will you, for
i'm not worth it

"if it takes effort, it's not worth it"

tired of this
waiting
trying

some people fight to live
suffering disease and tyranny
i suffer life itself

i'd rather die laughing, i now know how
no one will ever regret what they've done to me
so i choose to die laughing at my own exit

i don't need to justify myself to you
it's my party and i'll die if i want to
(anyone want a cheap fuck before i go?)

you have to justify life to me
go on, please
give me a sign


one

day

left


if it hurts,
stop doing it

it's that simple.

meat for fucking

find me
fool me
fuck me

again,
again,
again,

forget the fucking lie called love
give me something i can feel
hot and sweat, a pleasure, real

no words, no feelings
for just this moment
fuck me like you hate me

because we're animals
animals, all
that's all we'll ever be

just fuck me

permission given

lure me
trap me
rape me
trash me

girls & boys vs women & men

"... a little word of advice from me to you...quit fucking around with "girls" and find yourself a WOMAN. A woman who can recognize that you are a man who is worth so much more than any of these other jerks out there."
...
"Everyone has their faults...but the thing you have to remember is the positive has to outweigh the negative."
...
"If you ever find yourself in the same situation with a girl, don't hang on..let her go. Its not worth the time or the heart ache. Find out what YOU want from a female and get to know them. If they do something once...more than likely a girl, will do it again.

"A woman won't. There's a big difference

"...same as boys vs. men.

"Men/Women accept responsibility for their actions and apologize with a true heart. Girls/Boys...say..get over it."

(my emphasis)

thank you again, Sara. i wish it were so easy to tell the women from the girls. i thought i had a woman once, but she became just another girl a few months later. i keep being fooled... and having a fool made of me. but i much appreciate you stating something i have been feeling. especially the part about girls and boys saying "get over it," instead of taking responsibility.

what a relief it is to cry

i haven't been able to feel much at all lately. at best, fear, anger, loss, frustration, anxiety. these aren't the feelings i want or need. they're what's been left to me.

today something different happened. a friend told me about her son. she told me something about him that made me cry so much that i'm still crying now as i try to write this. it's such a relief that it hurts.

but it hurts well.


she told me a small story about her son, crying, while she was driving somewhere with him. she asked him "What are you crying about?" he replied "You honked at that person. You don't care about other people's feelings. You just hurt that person's feelings."

i started crying

she said to me that she is constantly surprised at how intensely sensitive and emotional he is. she has described her son to me with several of his unique traits. i find myself repeatedly lit up with a fire of identification and understanding.

i told her "i'm glad you told me that. i'm crying right now."

we had just previously talked about how some people's parents teach their children not to cry and i expressed how terrible that is. she said to me "I'm sorry, i didn't mean to make you upset." i said "no, this is a good thing. then i explained.

all my life i've been told to control myself. that i'm too sensitive. i finally find the name for my condition. a form of autistic disorder. finally! answers! YET: one of the most common misrepresentations of autistic people is "they cannot identify or empathize with the feelings of others."

it's plastered around everywhere. in so many of the books that claim to help. in the magazines. in the television spots. in the news. on the internet. saying that "we" cannot feel emotions or empathize with others.

it's a horrible slander. because... IT IS THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE.

I
FEEL
EVERYTHING.

i told her, "it's so horrible, because it's not true. i feel so much for so many people. i often get more upset at their problems than they do, the empathy is so strong."

it was such a beautiful thing to hear that there is another human being on this planet, even in this country, a few states away, young enough to still have the chance to grow up without the abuse i had...

WHO FEELS THE SAME WAY I DO.
EVERYTHING.

thank you Sara
no one can possibly understand how meaningful this is to me.

all i can do is cry in relief and sadness, hoping that your son will be treated better by the world than i was.

thank you for letting me cry

beauty reminds me of you

and it hurts each time

reruns

it's been since at least august 28
since i repeated myself with the phrase
I'M FUCKING LONELY

yes, a spate of "wise words"
and i'm back to this bullshit
I'M FUCKING LONELY

i hear you, echoing me, mockingly
playback that my shit brain forces me to take
"i'm lonely, jace" as an excuse to make me lonely

how nice for you to tell me how great i am
it eases your guilt, assuring me i will find someone else
quick (because you already had)

how dare you say "i care"

all those fucking words... nothing but bullshit
i was told everything i needed to hear
the real you lurked underneath but i was too fucking stupid

no tolerance or empathy when i was suffering at work
(after all the drama about how angry you were at my former mate and friends)
sarcasm, indifference greed

like a fool, i am found naked and empty handed
you've taken it all back and handed me salt

how dare you claim caring

i can't pay my own way
my home will become someone else's
and i persist for three cats

who fucking cares

the only people i've ever been able to rely on
people who have actually BEEN THERE for me
are the people i will hurt if i kill myself

family

that should be enough
but it's not
there is no joy and i refuse to search again

one word reminds me that there are those like you
the damaged goods, leftovers and reruns
who will do it to me, all over, again

i have no drugs any more
and i can't get out of this fucking thing called life
enjoy your fucking paradise and your fun

"sorry" just doesn't cut it

the cycle (note to self)

...desire >> hope >> confidence >> shock >> disappointment >> disillusionment >> resignation >> distance >> dispassion >> desire >> hope...

(and sometimes you'll see people go through the whole cycle before you've had a chance to start really diving in deep)

share my sleep

lay beside me, please
save me from my solitude
do me a kindness

forgiveness and redemption...

i fall for such things...
...in fiction...

"Did i love you enough?"
-WTC

"LOVE YOU - WIFE"
- The Abyss

Fearless...
The Crow...
Please Save My Earth...

even Kai's story in Lexx

i, a fool, still care deeply
for the women who ruin me

for their health
that they make good choices

that, somewhere
in their heartless stone
they really do hold me dear

fantasy

they push me further
'til i tell "leave me!!"
"you kill me more, each word!"

and then silence
broken
and i scream "LEAVE ME, YOU KILL ME!"

then real silence
no hopes
no fantasies

yes, fantasies
forever always
fantasies
.
.
.
i adore beautiful people
sharing their beautiful lives and art
on a global community of electrons

dreaming, again, fantasy lives
lived while i wait to hide
in sleep i cannot keep

i want to save you, and you and you...
though you wont save me;
you lie and you change and you leave.

forgiveness... redemption...
forever invisible to me

so

i feed on the elated, euphoric sadness of fiction
i continue offering me...
my stripped, torn flesh and soul

those creatures who push knives in
deeper, more predictably than previous
each time i try... again...

...and again...
... and again ...

where are my wings?
my redemption?

only whips and glue

i persist

in pergatorial hell
the floor drops further
deeper, darker

between my repeated subjugations
i wait

for my savior
who lives not within me

she never comes

i am expected to forgive
allow redemption
their false friendship

my wings, made not of feathers
but knives, driving into my body
each time i try

to fly
.
.
.
redeem me
forgive my birth

wrap your true love round me

save me
.
.
.
no
i wander
like this

singularity
wingless
addicted to fictional fantasy

blurred
rained
lost
.
.
.

i am so fucking lonely

big fuckin' surprise, aint it?
all i ever get is, at best, one month
better than wasting another 7 years, i guess











but i'm FUCKING LONELY
and it's FUCKING PAINFUL

i'm done with you now

i wont continue to suffer your offensive disrespect
you want your fucking ring back?
i want my fucking CDs back.

i also would like back all the time, emotion and money i spent on you
i was there for you in the hospital, twice
supporting you, caring for you

and because the anxiety you caused me
i lost a fucking week of my life to a hospital

where the FUCK were YOU?

NOWHERE

just using and toying with men
you don't know what love is
don't say it to anyone ever again

especially not me

opportunist child;
grow up

you're just like the rest

you had your chance
i even started thinking maybe i could love you
what a fucking asshole i am

another hole forms

where a girl used to be

i don't think you read this blog
but just in case:

i'm still here
with this

where are you?

when the father makes the son proud

My father said something the other day in regards to racism, politics, nationalism and religion that i wanted to quote. i can't. So i will paraphrase it here because it is too beautifully truthful and expressive of how i myself feel... and because it made me proud:

"I can't tolerate anything that makes you and I, two human beings, have to be different from each other. Anything that says I'm better than you or you're lesser than me makes me sick."

This was something he said to a pastor(?) at a church picnic who happened to be Vietnamese. My father was one of our government's weapon-toting meat puppets in that "old-day Iraq" we call "The Vietnam War." Luckily, my father did not "die for our country." Our country had no fucking business being there, so it would not have been "for our country." Same as today.

He explained to me once that the soldiers were trained to think of "the other guy" as "the enemy." Worse: the enemy was less than human. Anything the government could do to dehumanize what they wanted you to kill, they did.

Sound familiar?

So, recently, he met with and had the chance to have conversation with, a human being from Vietnam. My father was so taken by the fact that it had taken 30 years to really be able to sit down and talk to "an actual Vietnamese" and say "I was in your country" and really talk to them. One person - one human - to another.

So i repeat what he said when they talked about socially devised differences:

"I can't tolerate anything that makes you and I, two human beings, have to be different from each other. Anything that says I'm better than you or you're lesser than me makes me sick."

There are times when my father enrages me with our familial misunderstandings and fundamental differences (he the farmer, i the painter), but when he said this, i wanted to cry. Cry for the amount of sheer beauty and humanity he expressed so elegantly (i have not reproduced his original words as they hit me so hard i lost them).

i wanted to cry because my father made me proud.

There have been times where fear and social programming obscured this beauty. But here he is, today, open eyed, open minded and expressing his true humanity.

This is who he is at heart and why i love him.

i wish we had "met" as the people we are now, 20 years ago.

brothers and sisters of pain

join me
maybe together
we can fulfill our needs

i quote a new friend, sreya:

"it is cliche to say misery loves company. but it is true, just not in the sense that most people think. misery seeks shared misery, for in the other we see ourselves, reflections of our own pain and thus the understanding such pain brings. and in that understanding we find comfort, solace, validation that we are not alone."

Better said by her, than myself, for the beauty she brings to her words and the meaning carried by that beauty

the value of "now"

right now,
there's a connection
it is meaningful

"now"
is better than it was
"before"

thank you

brief periods without misery are beneficial to survival

even the "professionals" have stated
a relationship based in pathology
need not be considered a terrible thing

so long as it isn't outright harmful
it may perform a healthy function
(relief and growth are good things)

but, hey, don't listen to me, as usual...
do your own damn research,
or keep your mouth shut.

if you really cared about ME as a person...

...you wouldn't try to censor and hide the reality of me.

"can they find your blog and your website?"
"can you take it down for a while?"
"why can't you show something nicer?"

nor would you ignore your responsibilities in forging the chains
attached to the hooks
the events pulling apart my life right this fucking moment.

which of you can look the real me in the eyes, anyway?

certainly none of you who have made me.

you say you care. but in the end, you just want me to be "normal"

fuck you.

i am what i am
and now i am what you've done to me

your autistic roadkill
unknowing animal
cannot comprehend the difference
between green grass, soil, safety
and the death crush of that hard colorless zone

i wish i could send out for you

have you delivered

one day long hit of peace and rest

disproving the existence of sleep without woman

maybe the missing chemical in my brain is the female pheromone that i should be taking in from the presence of a charmed female... how can i feel sleepy in her presence and terrifyingly awake when separated?

as i look back on my relationships... i see a pattern...

- charmed, desiring female... atmosphere of erotic comfort, peace and sleepiness.

- bored, displeased, disaffected, paranoid, hateful female... atmosphere of bitter remource, the desire to self injure and the inability to find restful sleep.

made to soothe or kill each other.

i think the last few left a lethal stain to accompany the insulted injury of the sociopaths and bullies. now i crave the cravings of the sick for the sick, by the sick, both hoping to make two sicknesses into one health.

it doesn't forget, no matter how much you drug it

how many have you gone through
since me?

how easy is it for you to forget
everything you said?

i remember

my brain is a tortuous thing inside me
no matter how much you drug it

it doesn't forget