My favorite memory of her.

It was a few years ago, when our relationship was still fresh.


I had fallen on rough financial times and my power was cut off. I took it pretty hard. She was supposed to come over the night I found out, so I called her up and tried to reschedule. She asked me why and I refused to lie to her. I told her how ashamed I was at not being able to pay my own bills, quite horribly depressed and didn't want her to see me in such a state.


"It doesn't matter to me. I'm on my way over."


When she arrived it was after dark and my apartment was illuminated by candlelight. I was crestfallen.


She tried her hardest to bring me out of it.


"You're not a failure, jeez."


"Everybody struggles sometimes."


"I still like you"


Anyone who's ever dealt with me when I'm depressed knows how unresponsive I can be and the feelings of utter frustration that particular trait can instill.


"C'mon," she said, this time much less enthusiastically," what do you want to do?"


My eyes quickly surveyed my surroundings. Almost every single thing we usually did together required electricity. Then, I remembered our outing to Borders two nights prior when I had purchased a novel sized pop up book authored by Stephen King.


I looked at her with the most genuine smile I could muster, "I could read to you by candlelight."


"Ok." She said as she smiled back. It was one of the only times I've seen her eyes and lips smile in concert.


So, I removed the plastic from the tome and began. As I read, I'd change my voice to fit the characters and pull levers which brought the pages to life. She sat and listened untilI turned the last one and brought the story to its end.


During the entire course of our intimate, calamitous relationship, this is the only moment I think we truly shared. I also think I enjoyed it way more than she did.

Dreams

I dreamt about her again last night.

It used to bother me, but it doesn't anymore. The only thing I remember about it was taking her into my arms and the sound of her voice as our eyes met. I liked the dream, but that's only because it wasn't real.

See, when I dream about her, I dream about the person I thought she was or wanted her to be. The reality of her is always much more disappointing.

In the dream, her embrace was warm, inviting, not cold and empty like it was all the times we physically held each other. Her voice was soothing and it filled me with a feeling her lackadaisical one could never conjure in the waking world. I could stare into her counterfeit's eyes forever, never even scratching the surface of the secrets hidden deep within. On this plane, however, they were simply hollow.

I've come to grips with the fact that I have to see her every day. The thing is, though, since it's impossible to forget her, I've decided I want to remember her how I always liked her best; the way she is when she comes to me in my dreams.

Never Backpack through Cuba with Toucan Sam.

I dreamed about Allison again last night. I haven't gone a night without one of them in almost a year now and it's really strange. During the dream all those feelings are still there. The worst depression that I've felt awake is nothing compared to that which I experience in a not so peaceful slumber. It's so intense, it makes me want to just lay down and die. That's the only time I get suicidal anymore. When I'm asleep and dreaming of her. When I wake up, though, none of those feelings stay with me. Well, not too long anyway. I don't know what any of that means.

On top of that I also dreamed about Lisa. Then, the neighbors dogs woke me up at three in the morning and I couldn't go back to sleep. I just lay there and thought about the girls I now only see when I close my eyes. It's a hard sensation to describe. Even now, I have no desire to ever be near them again, much less as close as we once were. Then why is it so different in the dream?

At work today I had nothing to do. This gave me hours to just kinda sit back and let my mind wander. My MP3 player stopped on the song "Conversation" by Motion City Soundtrack. It's a beautiful, slow song that has more than just a hint of sadness to it. It was the only thing I listened to for over an hour. I let myself get caught up in the way it made me feel, instead of letting it run its course before moving on. I just reveled in it. There's a very big part of me that enjoys a gentle melancholy.

I thought about how I really feel about being single. For the most part I'm OK with it, but sometimes I miss having someone more than anything. It's on those weekend nights that I'm just laying in bed watching TV, alone. I miss having someone there next to me. I miss the embraces. Conversations. Making out and more. Just all those little things that seem so insignificant when you're in a relationship. The things that you take for granted. They seem like gold when you face an empty bed every night.

I've also been in kind of a weird mood since yesterday. A day with my family tends to do that. I also got my first rejection regarding my book. It honestly didn't affect me the way I thought it would, which is a very good thing. If I couldn't handle it I should really just give up now. I'm going to print it up and hang it in my cubicle. Give myself a little motivation. I don't know how to end this, as I'm just rambling, so I guess I'll just

Oh, that? It’s not a death rattle. There’s just something in his throat.

I was feeling kind of low at work today. It must have been obvious because a coworker aproached me and put her hand on my shoulder. She invited me to her church, and gave me a book about God. Now, I really like this woman, but I HATE when people do this. I've got a box of books like the one she gave me that I've recieved from people. I'm not religious. I don't even really know what it is that I believe in, if anything. I do, however, think that if there is a God, he stopped giving a shit a long time ago. I just don't find the solace in that outlet that other people do, and I don't like it being suggested that I should.

Look, I know I have issues. I've been aware of that for a long time now. I spend most of my days either constantly pissed off, horribly depressed, or an unhealthy combination of the two. I generally like my co-workers, and I can only imagine how I look from the outside. To tell you the truth, even I don't know who I'm going to be that day when I wake up. None of my actions are done in hopes of getting attention. It's not a cry for help. It's just me trying to keep control, and hold myself together. I don't like being the subject of their sympathy and intentions, even though they are good. Most of all I hate the pity. I don't like being the sad little boy in the corner. I'm taking medications to help keep me balanced, but all it does it turn the volume down slightly. The old habits are still there. The desires are still prevalent.

I'm just tired. Tired of whining, complaining, and bitching. I have a lot of time during the day to think. Probably too much. I'll come up with ideas to write about, things that need to be done, just how to get myself back together in general. Then my focus shifts to more negative subjects, and then stay there. By the time I get home I'm too to mentally exhausted and emotionally beat down to put my positive plans into action. Instead, I become lethargic, laying down to die and letting my future slip past me, one night at a time. I need to fix this. I'm going to rebuild the walls, and trim the excess. There are too many distractions.

It's with these thoughts in mind that I have decided to cancel my myspace account in a couple of days. I don't want to put myself out there anymore. At least, not until I am fully satisfied with what I have to display. I will keep writing. The blog will continue, just through another outlet that's meant for personal use. Some thoughts should remain secret. Some journeys have to be taken alone. I will also keep working on all the other projects, and make something out of them. I still have my phone and gmail account if you need to get a hold of me. Other than that, I really don't know what to tell you. I do wanna thank those that have kept up with this blog. It is greatly appreciated. This isn't the end, though. The best has yet to come.

Maybe insomnia’s not so bad, after all.

I'm sitting on a beach. It feels familiar, though I've never been here before. I can hear sea gulls off in the distance as the waves come rushing past my feet. It's such a beautiful day, I can't believe there's no one out here. I watch a sailboat off in the distance, when a little girl comes running up to me. She is beautiful, with long blonde hair and an enchanting smile. I ask her what her name is, and she says that she hasn't been given one yet. Then she asks me to play with her. I look around, find no one, and ask her where her parents are. The smile turns to a heartbreaking frown. Tears flow down her face when she asks, "You mean you've forgotten about me already, Daddy?" She then starts to fade until there's nothing but her foot prints in the sand. I close my eyes, trying to get the visual out of my head.

When I open them again, I'm under a sea of blankets and sheets. I've been in this room many times, yet it feels alien. The only sounds come from the ceiling fan, my heartbeat, and the rythym of her breathing. I look over at her, and I don't feel what I thought I would. I'm filled with the overwhelming desire to leave. Her dark hair falls over her pale face, illuminated by moonlight. I reach out to touch her, but as soon as I do, her face begins to crack. Then her entire body shatters. I recoil backwards, and fall off the bed. I close my eyes…

I land in the chair of a waiting room. I'm not alone, but I might as well be. She's reading a magazine, acting bored, like she's just ready to get this over with. I try to think of something to say, but decide against it. Conversation will only make things worse, like usual. Christ, I'd like to wake up now. Finally, my name is called back and she offers no words of encouragement. Barely looks up from the magazine. The lights in the examining rooms are harsh and hurt my eyes. The doctor sits me down and checks me out. She confirms what I already knew and feared. The full weight and severity of it all hits me, and I break down. She sits down next to me, and puts an arm around me. Her voice is soothing as she tells me that it's all going to be ok. I cry harder when I realize that she's the only person that's going to be doing this. A big part of me dies right there. Soon it will rot and decay, poisoning everything until acid is pumped through my veins. I regain my composure, step into the hall, and walk up to the door that leads back into the waiting room. I close my eyes, scared to face her, and the new future that I have carved out for myself.

I open my eyes to find myself someplace new, in front of a door I know all too well. It's slightly ajar, and I can hear the movement and tiny whines of protest. God, haven't I gone back to this enough? Just let it stop. But I know the dream won't end until I cross the threshold. My palms sweat as I place my hand on the doorknob. The noises within are louder now, and I feel nauseous. I close my eyes as I push the door open, this time with no intent on opening them again.

Haunted

Every evening i arrive home, alone. I hate my apartment. Just too many memories. Her ghost still haunts this place. Every now and then i can catch her phantom scent in the air. Sometimes if i'm digging around for something, i'll find a long black hair that didn't come from me. It's a reminder of memories long gone, and that i should probably clean up a little more often.

If i've got food i'll cook, but i'm left with way too much so it lasts me a couple of nights. I find myself with way too much time on my hands. The isolation gets to me a little more every day. The worst part is that most of it is of my own volition. Sometimes i read, or watch the same tired movies, write, but mostly i think. I think about all the nights and moments that brought me to this point, but i never feel better about any of it. This can't be what my life has become, what i've become. On the those seldom events that i talk to someone, i tell them i'm fine, i've moved on, that i'm doing better. I still don't know who it is i'm trying to convince. I barely smile anymore. I feel like something inside me is gone, has rotted away.

Eventually, i kill enough time to finally call it a day. The bed seems so much bigger than before. I'll lay for hours until sleep finally comes to claim me. Every night i have the same dream. In it we're together, happy as all the plans we made come to fruition. Funny how nothing ever looks even remotely like the brochure. I wake up, and again, every night i'm disappointed by the empty place next to me. It makes me feel sad, pathetic, and small. I roll myself into a ball, curling as tight as physically possible, and pray that when the sleep returns, that the dreams don't follow.

The alarm goes off every morning at 6, and i fight with the snooze button for a half hour. I finally drag myself out of bed, and run through the motions of getting ready for the day. I spend the entire morning commute dreading the moment i walk into work, where the dreams become a nightmare.

Is this goodbye?

The television is on but plays only static. This bottle of pills is empty, offering no relief. In my mind's eye i can see your picture. The edges are frayed and distorted, the result of a long and distant memory. The walls i've fought to tear down are slowly being reconstructed. Leaving only me in this shell. There is only the slightest crack, letting in little light and the smallest glimpse of a world outside my cage. I approach it and look through. On the other side is a hospital room. Monitors and tubes hooked up to a vessell that i once knew. The only sounds emmitted from this room come from the respirator, and a few other instruments. The EKG beeps once. Twice. And one last time before it holds it's note. It pierces through me. The last thing i see is a smile before the light is extinguished.