The point in it all

Something I never understand is if there is a real point in me ever writing down what I feel or think. Sure, I can come back to it years later and understand what I felt back then, I ever do that now but it never really helps me. Right now I am pulling myself away from all people just because I don't feel I can take them anymore. We as humans disgust me with our abilities to lie and play games with others and even ourselves. I hate that so many minds are just filled with fog and the encumbrance of our own stupidity, and that I am among them. I can't handle it all to be honest. I want to become recluse and forget about all humanity but I can't I need their emotions, I need their reactions, their love. I don't know how I could live without them all but at the same time the things they do drive me insane and make me feel even more alone than if I was without them. I try to explain myself and how I feel but my words fly right over the heads of the ones I love and trust, I'm again alone.

The hate I feel, hate is anger. Anger is the opposite of acceptance, acceptance being anger's more healthy and 'good' counterpart. I find it hard to just accept the things I am angry about because I feel justified in my angers. Does this make them worse? Does sin become more of a sin when the one who commits it is fully aware and accepting of his sin? I don't believe in such things as sin but it is a great example to base emotions off of. I get feelings that the only ones I could possibly talk to are professionals but they are taught to be the way they are, to analyze people and match them up to well.. Something that will help them figure out what is wrong with said person. I don't know if something is wrong with me. Right and wrong has become so blurry. I know how to be good to people and how to be bad to people but so many things about life feel so wrong.

My drive to write is finally starting to die out a little bit, my ideas more blurred and my heart now resembles the embers from a flame. Still hot to the touch but no longer in a dangerous state. This isn't healthy, the more ash builds up the more of myself becomes buried under my emotions. How long before I become lost? Numb and or dull and dead...

I may not be man enough to hold back my emotions, but with that being said I am man enough to admit I am afraid, of me.

This

I had a nice talk with myself the other day, I feel like I covered a lot of ground and I understand things a lot better now than I did before. For weeks I was in fear that I had been loosing myself part by part. That I wouldn't be the same man I was before, the man who created countless worlds, that had an imagination that could create countless tales and mysterious things. The one who understood things far beyond what many could grasp. I was afraid I had lost him, but no. He isn't lost just tucked away because the life I live today, right now. Is not a place for him, he cannot thrive here. In a time when money is a huge issue, when where I'm going to live, what my job is, all these very world weary things... James, the real James can't survive here. I needed someone else, someone who could just be a work horse, pave the path to where the real James could come out again, thrive, become better than he ever was.

This is who I need to be, right now.

Rusted

The steel begins to rust, forgotten, rain hits against it's ever strong surface. Drop after drop it touches what once was replied on. It starts to become something else, something weaker, no longer sure of itself it starts to rust. It's color begin to change from something bright to something dull and not beautiful. It's the course of things. We all forget who we are and wither way to become part of something else. No matter the loose. Not matter how horrible the decay death violence and despair. It all crumbles down into something better. No matter how small the gain, no matter how meaningless it may seem... It's the course of things. Life, community, empires, planets and love.

My I'm nuts, or maybe I was back then

Recently I sat down with myself and thought about all the things that have happened in the past year or two. I don't know how much time has really passed because I am terrible with judging large amounts of time.

I realized I had lost much of my confidence. After I had lost many things I have loved my heart and mind began to sink. I apologise now if some of my wording does not make sense. I'm speaking straight from the heart and mind and sometimes I have problems wording things correctly in idle chatter.

It makes me feel like I have failed myself in some odd way because I cannot remember the anniversary of Sam and I. Though I guess to anyone else things like that shouldn't matter considering it's been almost a year now that we have been apart. Almost a year has passed since the last time I had tried to plan a time for us to be together or do something special. It's funny, I would see her twice a week every week. There was even a time she stayed at my home for almost two weeks. Which would be crazy considering we were both only teens. She parents would have filled if they knew she slept in my bed with me. I didn't care. The love was strong. I was 'ignorant' as elders would say. Saying that age didn't matter. But even with how often I would see her I would still plan little things for us to do once a month when that date would come around. I felt it was okay to do so. Life moves so fast you never know when things could just come crashing down. Why not show once a month for that first year how much you care? Why not show it every day? Well I did.Or at least I tried to.

I don't wish to plunge into the feelings I had and the feelings I think she had, and if she ever really had them or not. I've gone over that too many times and each with no answers. It's impossible for me to know when not even she knew. Or at least, she claimed not to know. But things came to a harsh end, I was hurt, so badly I couldn't stand myself. The year we were together was amazing to me. We did so many things. I grew so much.

If it were not for her and her family I would be a totally different person right now. I'm happy with the impact she left of my life and at the same time I hate her for it.Why leave such a beautiful picture hanging on the wall of a place I love so much but can never return to? It's terrible but the memory is still nice.

Once my heart settled I decided I wanted to move on, have some fun but nothing serious like I wanted between me and her. Sadly that wasn't what I got. I fell...hard for yet another and very quickly. I had myself convinced that it was just the build up of feelings I had for Sam flowing over into a new conduit. It was after months that I realized this wasn't true. This woman... Dara... She gave me many reasons to believe I loved her for genuine reasons, not left over feelings. And again I was hurt, deeply. She took a liking to being down on herself, self mutilation... On a very small degree but enough to make me stand up and say something. Time and time again did I say something. It tore us apart. She wanted to deal with her problems on her own. I couldn't do it. I've been taught my entire life to do for others, help whenever you car. Live for someone else, not for yourself. You come second, your loved ones come first. So that's what I did. I tried to help her, I tried to twist her mind to believe she was the beautiful smart valuable young woman she really was. I'm not sure if she did believe it but just wanted to display someone else or if she truly believed she was worthless, or maybe just useless in the eyes of others or unwanted. I partially blamed her mother. She didn't sound like the best of women. That also came to and end.

For reasons I can't understand all the things that made me grow so much through the course of time between these two women started falling in reverse and I was loosing what had made me well... me. So I went back to the people who were always waiting there for me and again I was betrayed and left behind. I had someone or something chosen over me. My self worth kept getting lower and lower. I got the the point where I could not longer outwerdly expresse myself to people, I no longer wanted to. But after my very long talk with myself I finally convinced myself I need to express myself to people and also not care if they care or not. They can take it or leave it, I should not care one bit. A fisherman does not care of the fish that do not bite his line, he cares for the one he does and he works... By god does he work to real in that fish.