Salvador

Take it in stride…

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Reflection

September 3, 1997

My only consolation reflects back where the sun was high, the tide low, and age younger than a new day. Choking on salt water up past my neck and looking back to see you with a grin, I was at last content. Remember my first view of that oversized hill and first time to set foot on foreign soil? The air was crisp and fresh, the earth would shine with red tones, and I promised that someday it would be mine as I looked back to see you with a grin, I was at last in peace. Driving past an Indian’s home set back in the valley of pleasure we ventured on taking in the sights and letting out a breath of freedom, I was in love with life again. Remember feeling suffocated by the confines of loneliness hoping that retreat would occur? The year was upon us again pushing for action where laziness once existed. A visit here and there was nothing more than a tease as I looked back to see you with a frown.

Feeling Queasy

September 23 – October 9, 1997

You can’t dwell on it. At times when you think things might end up being alright and maybe a connection was found finally, but it never happens, it can never work out that way. Sure, you have friends and close relationships, but take it from me, they don’t mean shit! Everybody is out to better themselves and nothing will stand in the way, not even you.

I think about Julie a lot. I haven’t dreamt about her in a while, but in everyday conversation she just seems to pop up. September 23 was the anniversary of her death. The day before, I was talking to Jayme and told her that tomorrow was the anniversary of Julie’s death and she had no idea. At first, it kind of got to me, you know, but I expected it. I mean, shit, she can’t even remember Julie’s smile! This semester in school has been harder than shit. I have three research papers due, two of which have to be ten pages long. To tell you the truth, I don’t see the point in it. Fuck college, you know, It’s just something I thought I’d do until something better decides to pop up.

Gwen is living with me now. It’s good to have another close friend in town. I’ve been so stressed out lately. God, I just want to go up to the mountains and forget about all these trifles. Since last January, I’ve been waiting on something or another to make it to New Mexico, but fuck it, I’m twenty years old, you know, the time is now.

Another Drunken Night

I can’t even cry anymore, although I feel more sadness than ever felt before, all I can do is just close my eyes and reminisce about happier times. When nights are spent all alone like this, with me restless and unable to conjure up dreams, and you far away yet still in eyesight, I realize that maybe it would be better if these two worlds didn’t collide. I had everything planned out in perfect detail until another soul was let in causing confusion and irritability where perfect harmony once existed. This is my life, and for you, for you it’s just something to pass the time. I know no other way and there was a time when I thought that maybe you were on the same level, but that was just ignorance. I see the true colors, and black and white is all that I see.

Poem of all Poems
November 6, 1997

Time is mine to fear in the eyes of serene nights filled with playful antics and a loneliness that now seems to be missed. Almost half a moon has passed since our last encounter. Meaningless pages come before you but this is the poem of all poems. 

A forced existence now serving as a blanket where careless sheets of faded prints used to cover. When the sun lets you return to an age of the present’s past, it is not he who plays the fool, it is I, it is we, it is you. Indifference thrives in experience as only the purist of pure can relax in the mind of the knowledged for this contains importance, this is the poem of all poems.

A Letter to You,

The other day as I was driving down your sidewalk, a different view of your village took sight. “How could I have missed this one?” The trees were taller, your window was higher, and the grass was so much more…brown. I thought for a second that your silhouette was hanging in the garden, but a second glance confirmed my suspicions. The sky was dark, of course, what kind of monster would I be to take a look at high noon?

Love,

A.K.A.

Irony

Once when vulnerability existed, an idol stood before me in a blind state of happiness. Years later, the tables turn and I’m not sure where happiness ends and misery begins. It seems that under the same roof we would rather kill that bond in nightly rituals cherished. In that time I loved you more than I thought I could. After everything we went through I thought you let me know what “we” was worth. With the wave of a hand it was gone just like in the beginning, only a different soul was erased, but I have always stayed the same.

Almost a year ago, plans to evolve were freshly planted in my brain, but now I seem to be standing alone as you found your own ground. To be stuck here in the confines of everyday knowing that I was the one who wanted out, and you, you wanted to stay! Here, I sit under this all too familiar roof with you among strangers, and me? I keep moving backwards.

Fading West
November 8, 1997

Fresh into town away from all that stood to be everyday burdens that weighed me down so many times, but out here I can forget all the petty little things that seemed like the end of the world as I awoke each morning with that unbearable knowledge of such hated events bound to occur in the next twelve hours.

Take my hand into the west where the air is clean and the ground is fresh, among everything we are all that’s left, swallow high in the fading west. 

There’s a broken bus just up ahead parked in the shade of a better promise calling out for a buyer that will someday regret the purchase of a lie, but there she waits faithfully growing old in the shade of the sun. 

Take my wheel into the west where a faster speed defeats the rest, and dance and sing before the best into the night the moon is crest and mountains hide the fading west.

(Tis' time to set)

Old Man River

(Excerpted)

“I’ve been on this road before, this is my road…

I need to get input, to broaden my mind, to draw more from characters. They handed me the world to preserve, and so I did. I mean, what do you think I do for a living anyway? You see, if I lie, the truth is printed, it’s reverse psychology, but who listens anyway? Just ignore this message. I had the most amazing day. It was just beautiful. Through pain and through misunderstanding, I stand here, need not I die nor need I drink, for I know that my soul will keep. We live in an incredible time, and if we all came together, we could accomplish. In my mind, I have all these utopias and fantasies, but I believe they can work. The reaction is fear, we’re all pretty much the same. Everything you say, they lie and change. I’m not going to give my truth to the phonies. That was the first concept of reality, there is not just this world of vagueness that you can just bounce off of. Everything is ironic to me. There are moments I find hysterical, but I’m probably the only one. That’s the only time I have security. Myself is nothing! I’m totally removed. Like Old Man River, I had to grow into it, like a face, like a fucked up face…”

Veins

November 23, 1997

I never knew I could be capable of so much hate. More than half my life is filled with pages of distraught outbreaks brought upon by the very roots of my blood. Never could I actually admit the way that I really feel until I heard the words that you spoke. From a non-involved party, I found the truth that was questioned all these years. Yes, you truly do hate me, but in the privacy of my own mind, I despise you with a much greater vengeance than you will ever possess. Your verse was of no surprise for hate is nothing new, and as you know no other way, I am able to enjoy love.

Trivial Pursuit

November 24, 1997

I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. All I ever want to do is just sleep and never wake up. I could care less about school, even told mom that I’m probably not going back next semester. Finally, I have somewhat of a social life and even that is starting to wear thin. Usually my days consisted of sitting at home smoking weed and communicating with no one except for myself. Now, I go out every night and there’s even this guy who’s interested in me. He’s really attractive but I get so nervous in situations like that to the point where it’s not worth it. My life is going nowhere at my expense, and dreams are all I live for. With Kirk telling me I’m a stupid Bitch all the time, and looking at my performance in college, my self-esteem is lacking. I can’t find meaning anymore. Poetry is trendy, depression is overplayed, and honesty is fake.

Identity

December 1, 1997

I’m through with words and meaningless faces that look before me with bitter lies. Tonight my body shakes, my eyes lack the power of sight, and my once charming voice finds pleasure in practicing the art of silence. I’m sick of second guessing and being led astray into the crowded room of half-wits and rejects that now share a common interest with me. The resulting thought always remains to be that one superficial word that crosses my lips so often…whatever. I’m tired of trendy persona suffocating a white face, seemingly vacant when the play comes to a complete halt.

Once, I thought that my stereotype of a nobody was by far the worst way to be, but night after night we come together, and after an hour of babbling on about something relatively and all together stupid, I realize what a joy it is to be alone. I’m missing my cause and the company that shall never vanish no matter how old age is, or how far gone the day is. If I am the stepping stone for another vast cathedral reaching the sky, I must retreat before the base collapses.

Rejected

December 2, 1997

Nobody can know how bad it really is. Words are a far cry from the truth, all they do is lessen the importance of the situation and mislead the ear. I can no longer trust, or love, or feel anything except bitterness and hate. My friendship is selfish and deceiving just as I have been taught by others, in the end I gave in and followed.

All is fake with me tonight, and as I wallow in my own self-pity it disgusts me even more when my own patheticness is revealed. Three months and almost a year I welcome my long-awaited vacation that has been put off since adolescence. Youth is my enemy as fear becomes my breath.

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December 14 – 16, 1997

The sky appears purple tonight as the moonlight reflects through the clouds. The air is crisp while wind blows dry leaves breaking the silence. It’s only my voice that is heard speaking, the sound sends shivers up my spine, and thoughts are even louder than vocal words tonight.

This is what I’ve always wanted, so it’s no wonder I’m terrified at the very thought that my time for farewells has finally arrived. The original plans have changed, but it is still you and me, just like always, two of us.

Bla, Bla, Bla

December 12, 1997

This semester is finally fucking over! Woohoo! I don’t know if I’m going back yet, but I’m thinking probably not. I don’t even know if I passed everything. My English teacher gave me an “F” on my research paper. I did it on Catcher in the Rye. It was a good book, but I admit that I could have done a better job on the paper, though I do not believe it deserved an F! I was thinking about taking a photography class next semester, but everybody wants to be a photographer, you know, it seems so overplayed. I don’t know what the hell to do. I haven’t been writing lately at all, but I’m trying to get back into it. Jaren is talking about moving to California this January, but we’ll see what happens. Of course I’ll go with, but it’s scary to think about. I mean, I have been wanting to leave Houston for so long, and when the chance is finally in sight, I start to have second thoughts. Those are only thoughts, mind you, there’s no way I’m staying here!

Jena and Julie never moved to Georgia so Jena will probably come with us to California. Gwen moved in with the Current Clan because Kirk made her move out once again. Hopefully he will be moving to Austin this January.

Jena and I had a talk the other night. We talked about our relationship and how it feels as though we are growing apart, and like, going our separate ways. Upon realizing this, we came to the conclusion that we weren’t going to let that happen. It was a good talk, no matter what, Jena and I always seem to be on the same level. She always knows where I’m coming from.

I finally made my peace with Jayme and Jaren Douglas. We get along great now. I made it a point to let go of some of my bitterness, and it worked, I was able to do it, and I must admit that I feel much better after doing so. Besides, I have other things to be bitter about. Ha!

Gwen has a boyfriend now and she spends more time with him than she does me. I fucking hate that. Julie and I are great friends now. She, Gwen, and I hang out all the time. Despite the fact that I do have somewhat of a social life now, we throw parties almost every weekend and half the people in attendance have no idea who we are and vice versa, I still feel alone, even more so now. I’m one of those people who hate change. I don’t know, I just can’t handle it very well. It scares me. This next year will bring major changes, I can feel it, and with a positive attitude that is obviously forced, I arm myself to face the next battle. Wow, that sounds like an ending rather than a beginning.

Partners

December 19, 1997

If I could swallow my pride for just once maybe an understanding could be reached. I have this idea, this belief that coming together could mean greatness. With my talent, love, and dedication combined with yours the result would be absolute success I just know it! Proof has already been exposed so why should it be this hard to connect again? I just can’t believe that false statement you can never go back, it’s just not true. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I miss you, and I don’t like taking the backseat in your life. You just seem so out of reach sometimes and my patience is short. But as I have been told by many, I have the habit of blowing things out of proportion and seeing what really doesn’t exist, then again, all I know is all I feel.

With the intentions to actually give this, shall I say, letter, to you, it occurs to me that maybe you will have no idea where I’m coming from. Staying up late every night waiting for the chance to bust out the alcohol and role play until the sun awakens and the drink is gone. Laughing uncontrollably to ourselves as onlookers just stare wondering what the punchline was. Understanding and appreciating company that was all too often denied in the past, but maybe it’s just me.

Relations

December 20, 1997

It’s so easy to let go and literally fall off the face of the earth. The holidays are here and all I can see from my loved ones, who I basically survive off of, is pain. Jaren has been talking about how sick he’s been feeling lately and that he thinks something might seriously be wrong. I can’t imagine life without him. He is my backbone and always has been.

Gwen and I seem to be growing apart which really bothers me, but it seems as though she’s oblivious and caught up in a world full of boyfriends and hanging out at bars until 2:00 in the morning, and I’m personally sick of that scene.

I talked to Jena tonight about what’s been bothering me lately. Actually, I was just going to go home and keep it to myself but she followed me out to the car to talk to me alone. She says that she knows something is wrong with me, and knows that I most likely don’t want to talk about it, but then she asks me if she can at least take a guess at what’s wrong, so I let her. It’s amazing how Jena always knows what’s up with me, it really is, but what’s even more fascinating is the fact that she understands because she’s going through the same thing. I’ve missed her.

Making Sense

December 21, 1997

Well, I got my grades for this semester and surprisingly, I passed everything, barely. Don’t get too excited for me. I only had three classes. I started out with four but ended up dropping religion because I found it boring. Never learn about the Bible in school because it fucks it up. Don’t ask me to explain. It just does. I saw the movie, Titanic, today. Damn good flick, not just because of Mr. Dicaprio either.

When I was outside waiting for Jena to show, I decided to sit down, you know, on the sidewalk and have a cigarette. I fucking hate standing up. Anyway, this asshole rent-a-cop comes up to me and tells me in this stern voice that I needed to stand up. Then he asks me if I’m over eighteen, and if not, to put out my cigarette. I tell him I’m twenty in my stern voice, and then he just walks off. Can you believe that shit? I mean, what, is there a tax on my ass now or something? I can’t sit down?!

I’m listening to The Beatles “Taxman” right now, not because of the sitting thing, it was just on at the right time.

See, “Eleanor Rigby” is playing now, strings only. God, I must be lonely. I’m writing about nothing.

“All the lonely people…”

Repeated

December 22, 1997

This is yet another verse for you, for her, and for me. Everything feels as though it has already been said. There is nothing left to draw from, all has been felt and experience is gained but resented. I touch a spirit from long before and it follows like a shadow, lingering with the light of a candle, dancing. The only answer was to accept, and it came without realization at first, after that it was second nature.

Late Nights

December 29, 1997

From my bedroom window I can see the Big Dipper straight ahead, a cluster of stars resembling a kite to my left, and somewhere behind me the moon lurks over my roof.

Day Dream

January 1, 1998

I let myself become attached knowing that I would be denied. Tonight, I want to play, and sing, and laugh. I want to forget about all that stands in the way and exist where freedom and happiness have always been one.

Nameless

January 8, 1998

I can be everybody in just one day. There is comfort in acting out a role that only you see, but there is also isolation that is too deep to acknowledge.

Letter to River

January 1, 1998

I saw you for the first time when I was only ten years old. Your performance was captivating, and from then on, I watched every day, each time enjoying a little more than before. Adolescence came without invitation and all was forgotten as a new image took place where innocence once existed. I went back now and then to relive what I thought was lost forever. In that last year, you touched me, converted me, and intrigued me. I loved you from the beginning and appreciated you when it was too late. It has been four years since his death and I still can’t bring myself to accept and move on.

Letter to River

January 10, 1998

I want to create my own tribute for the world to see. So much concentration has been focused on “the dark side” and “false identity” that seems so trivial if any of these so-called writers took the time out to look at what his person was really all about. We all know about his efforts to save the environment and the animals, but there is so much more to be said and acknowledged. Don’t get me wrong, because of River I stopped eating meat and buying leather, but I saw more than the nature boy image. I saw someone I could most likely, if given the chance, connect with, which is hard to come by I have come to find out, but he made it possible. He saw the world and captured it.

---

January 11, 1998

After all the fancy verses and depth-filled words, in the end it is all about having fun and wasting away the day. Why give in like the rest of the world and live for a paycheck and a day off? It sounds so unappealing and I prefer an alternative for that is not for me and I refuse to live wishing I were dead. There are other ways. Life does not have to be a fantasy. We can be truly happy.

Doodling

Toothless, antisocial, with gray eyes that turn green in a fit of anger, and blue when the setting is right.

We are standing on nothing while the air thins and visibility is gained as we plunge to our death.

Twins, not of offspring, parade with delight causing chaos among locals.

Not like the rest of them with their translucent frowns and unattractive gestures.  

Therapy

January 20, 1998

Separation is therapy when dependence is out of control. I place importance on making a connection and bonding and experiencing what is private but this all fades and unfortunately forgotten in the long run. My cause is you. I speak of love and understanding all the while despising the very thing that brings you happiness. I am a hypocrite, but only because of pain. If the table was turned, it would be you suffering what I know only too well.

Trendy

January 19, 1998

On our way back from Austin we had a traveling pal. This red Porsche was going the same way we were (Houston) and the two of us traveled together. We met up with him in Giddings. At first, it was kind of a joke, you know, he was going about 80mph and so were we, so I stayed behind him because, most likely, he would be the one to get a ticket since he was in a red Porsche. He started slowing down a bit so I decided to pass him and then he started following me. This went on for a while and then we just stuck together, weaving in and out of traffic, passing everyone up, helping each other out when the other got cut off or something. It was great. We had to split up in Houston. The traffic slowed down to a dead stop and his exit came just in time. We waved goodbye to each other and I was left to battle traffic alone. Gwen and I got a major kick out of it. Jena was asleep in the back.

We stayed in Austin for about four days up at Jena’s brother’s house. Jena and I got our bellybuttons pierced at some place on 6^th Street. Our good friend, Steve, paid for it. The whole thing was his idea. Gwen got her tongue pierced which was a funny sight to see. She was laughing the whole time and drooled all over herself as well as the girl doing the piercing. I was the first one to go because I just wanted to get it over with. It didn’t hurt all that bad, but when I stood up from the chair, I started to blackout. It was probably the adrenaline, but everyone’s voices began to fade as my eyes and ears became fuzzy causing me to plop down in the middle of the room. “I’m not feeling very well,” I managed to mutter, and Meg instructed me to put my head down between my legs and went to get me some water. It was horrible. I felt like I was overdosing on drugs but I hadn’t had anything. It lasted for about ten minutes and then I was feeling alright. Jena and Gwen didn’t seem to have a problem, well, Jena almost jumped out of the chair when she felt the needle pierce her skin.

Inspired By

January 20, 1998

I’m cold and tired. I’m sick of caring, sick of you. I’m sick of looking like a fool and coming home to find the same old shit that never seems to go away even after daily discussions. This happens all the fucking time, but I always put myself in the same situation chasing something that no longer exists. We cannot be one and I will not be third.

Life is growing old as distance becomes a sidewalk for the party left behind. Everything in the past turns to nothing today as I refuse to play the part. I can see paradise in an empty room but there always has to be something more with you. Why can’t you grasp satisfaction? My words are wasted without an eye and an ear to see and hear what this world is all about. I don’t want to be a topic in some meaningless conversation. My voice is forced to be heard but tomorrow I will find the strength to disappear and give a cold shoulder instead of a phony smile. This was a time for happiness and carelessness but anticipation betrayed as the living truth haunts me every day. My verse is not for you, just inspired by.

Watching

January 21, 1998

I can still taste it in my nose sometimes, like a bad memory that can’t be forgotten. I want things to be perfect and done my way. So much passion goes in to what I believe and I guess that my expectations are far-fetched. This so-called game is my life but there is constant change and soap opera antics that lessen the importance and love for these characters that I hold so dearly. I scare myself sometimes for getting so involved in something that is supposed to be merely a scapegoat for time.

In every person I give myself, they are my lovers and family. My only means of true love that I share in secret with only one are constantly belittled and raped. There are times when I wish for death upon myself just to show what life is really worth. Perhaps we are overblown. Perhaps relationships are a one-sided thing. What is the point in continuing on when a whole other world is being played?

Nothing seems right anymore. I hate being apart from the rest just for more knowledge and depth that only I will ever understand. Words are never said as I want them to be for the point is always lost as well as the meaning. I can never grasp what I feel. Nothing is sacred with two.

Mainstream

January 23, 1998

Give more than you thought possible for what is the point in holding back? I have come a long way since the beginning of entries, but then again I still keep moving backwards so it seems. If there shall be an end to this all I welcome instead of resent. Insanity has been discussed in various conversations but the conclusion is always the same. How can we really know for sure? After denial has been laid to rest I came to find out that I probably am in love with you and have been for quite a while. I’m leaving with or without for there is nothing here for me anymore. I live the same day over and over again growing old when the sweet breath of adolescence seems like it was just yesterday. I love more than you will ever know and for the time being I regret to ever confess.

Spring is on her way, and as the winter nears the end, I begin to wonder if we are too late having second thoughts about the dream that has been talked about for so long. My one true follower has grown sick leaving me with the worries of a widow. I am not capable of facing this world alone. My instinct is making claims to a future that is too ridiculous for me to follow but my spirit cannot hear these petty remarks, and therefore chases an idea that seems so far from reality. Old habits return after a short leave of absence, and, once again, the morning is lost as afternoon is shortened into night. There is poetry in nothingness and I am the centerpiece.

I sometimes see in your eyes what I feel in my heart but I know what can never be for relations stand in the way as well as mechanical teachings that have been pounded in the brain since day one. But here is another contradiction for we have always been against mainstream and it is in that two-sided room that we find one. My lesson is to avoid attachment and involvement but the damage has been done, my feet are wet and change has not ruined connection yet.

This cannot go on forever. My emotions are shot and although in the prime of my life, I am left wondering about old age and death. Today I feel as though I can never make it or do what has been talked about. I know she is not here for me, but to be apart is devastating. Fear is to be left behind while the rest move on, which is why I still insist on leaving. Enchantment has been experienced but not yet captured. Follow my lead and forget the mainstream. This is it, now or never.

Slacker

January 27, 1998

So, my new goal is to be published by the year 2000. I’m going to buy a book that explains what steps need to be taken and then just do it, you know? I will keep trying until someone says “yes” to me and sees what I see in my work. There is nothing to fall back on, this is it, my only means of survival, my future, my life. I’ve had the dream of being a successful writer for quite some time, and at twenty years old, I fear that maybe I have waited too long, but then again, we try until we die. I believe I can do it, I really do, and I have so many ideas to work with, it’s just a matter of organization.

I consider myself to be somewhat of a slacker. I mean, I dropped out of public school, graduated a year late, never had a real job, and personally, I don’t plan on returning to college. As far as love relations go, I have never had one. I mean, I’ve dated guys for no longer than two weeks, and most of them dumped me. I think I’m falling in love with my best friend, but that will never be acted upon because of circumstances that are too private for even a pen and piece of paper to reveal.

Jaren says that we will be leaving for Santa Fe in April, but I seriously doubt that. If, by chance, we do make it up there, Gwen won’t be able to go, and Jena doesn’t know if she wants to go, yet I’m pretty sure she will. Julie says she plans on going, but I will believe it when I see it. Jaren found out that he is diabetic which was a relief, at first, because I was worried that he had cancer. Still, it’s not a good thing, but at least it can be controlled.

My intentions were to end this journal when I made it to New Mexico, but by the looks of it, that date will put me behind at least for a couple of years. I mean, come on, we’ve been talking about it for the past year and a half. I wonder if many people set out to write a journal to have it published. Take Jim Carrol for instance. He started writing The Basketball Diaries when he was thirteen, and if I’m not mistaken, he was published at seventeen. Did he set out to have that published or did it just happen? I would love to meet him!

Anyway, this journal thing is getting old, but I’m scared to quit because I am so used to doing it. I find parts of my life interesting, but most of the time things seem pretty dull. Everything said is true, and maybe if I were acquainted with the world a little better, I could decide if what I have to offer is original or just like the rest of them.

Solitude

January 28, 1998

Ritual conversations inhabit a small space, room enough for one. Talk amongst yourselves, I am only taking notes soon to be erased.

What the hell am I thinking? I could never exist without time all to myself for at least five hours a day!

We want until we receive, and then it is no longer desired. The excitement is gone so where is the point?

If I don’t commit myself all the way, than an escape is still visible and there would be no reason for farewells.

The Drive Home

January 29, 1998

Frustration grows with every breath I inhale. I can handle no more than what I already have. Monotone speech inhabits me tricking emotions into nudity one last time. I think I’m feeling sick to my stomach and these turns are following a circle. Do what must be done for this actress has to be known and I’m tired of rehearsal. Words remembered as reruns, actions are perfected, and looks that appear to be practiced are thrown upon me in a manner that cries out for attention. We are on our way and I’m feeling thirsty. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Xanax

January 30, 1998

My eyes cannot find the strength to stay open. I no longer care what happens for breath is appreciated but sleep is cherished. My love is forbidden, and I myself have yet to find total acceptance. Why dwell on impossibilities? Lay this to rest and I will follow behind just as always. There is a feeling of bitter thoughts that pass between taking what used to seem whole, but when there is nothing needed to be done old times are revived.

The weekend drags by seeming like one long day rather than three. We disregard a clock set crooked on the wall and venture out for a walk in the morning dew. My presence has been here before as well as another close being that has since passed. It was here that we found death and gained life for the last time. In these woods, I have memories, and once again I have returned to reminisce and share. Confession escapes my lips, but only after you spoke of secrets first. There is much to be said, but we forget after we speak leaving a revealing conversation unfulfilled. In this state of mind I can see why fear and shame exist, and I have learned not to regret.

Letter to River Phoenix

February 8, 1998

Another portrait plays through reminding me what a sin it would be to forget. I found beauty in each frame put forth, but there was nothing new. Age is passing me by, but you stay the same showing the world what it means to be eternal. I wanted to watch you grow old. I wanted to anticipate your next appearance. I wanted the dream to last. In that split second, you froze time for everyone who was alive to witness, and I return daily to cherish what was soon to be the end. A comment was made the instant the news was loud enough to be heard, but my ears could not define voices, and words were foreign.

My intentions are to reveal the love and concentrate on life rather than death. I have no real material to work with for a personal acquaintance was too far out of reach. Ideas and mouth to mouth references are all I am able to conjure up. Maybe the course needed to be taken does not lie with technical information. Maybe it could be possible to write on a personal level revealing all the emotions and likenesses that seemed to be realistic in the mind of a lover.

There is an image in my head that will forever exist until my words have faded. I hold you in the highest regards, but on a more personal note, you are my obsession and mentor even after death.

Phase

February 18, 1998

Each day turns into one single second as we wake in mid-afternoon to catch the mindless talk shows that steal time needed for more useful tasks. I have been lacking in personal satisfaction that would someday support me until my passing. Much needed goals are once again set back as old habits surface and replace what time used to be productive.

On the other hand, life has been enjoyable as far as I can see. These recent days have brought laughter that has been denied for what seems like forever. Full pages of countless thoughts that seem to repeat themselves but at least it is something. There are those times when all seems well and in my frame of mind what used to seem impossible becomes just within reach. I am able to stay on track and keep the point real and in its original form, but it takes practice and self-discipline which is what I seem to lack.

Security

February 23, 1998

We are still in Bay City. Gwen and I decided that we wanted to stay another day. It is three in the morning and we just got back from hanging out with my cousin Evan and his girlfriend Sue. I have a slight buzz but mostly I’m just tired. I slept all day, woke up at two, and took a nap until about nine, and I’m still tired? I don’t know what’s been wrong with me lately. Every day I feel dizzy and light-headed. I’m down to eighty pounds and my teeth keep breaking off. Sometimes I wonder if I’m dying, like I have some kind of disease that I don’t know about. The scary thing is that all in all it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

I think about death a lot, not really suicide, but just death, and what would I care if I were to die tomorrow. This journal keeps dragging on and I kept telling myself that this entry would be the end, but alas, it just keeps going. It’s probably a security thing since I’ve been doing it for a while now. This is my escape, and for some reason, I feel extremely good about myself after I’ve written a full page. Where else am I going to turn to for private conversations where I am the main topic and everything said is understood?

The Eric Syndrome

February 28, 1998

Did I mention that Kirk moved to Austin? It only lasted for about two weeks. He’s back home now. I missed not having him around, but I must say, our relationship is a lot stronger when we are apart. So far, we’ve been getting along, but we are the world’s worst when it comes to sibling rivalry. That’s pretty much what’s been going on. Oh yeah, the second night he was back in town he wrecked mom’s car again. So now, she’s driving the Grand Am and I’m carless once again. Figures.

While I was in Bay City this weekend I developed a liking for one of Gwen’s friends. He is two and a half years younger than me, which I guess some people would say that there is a big difference between seventeen and twenty, but I don’t believe it. Age means nothing. Besides, he will be eighteen in two months. Andrew is hilarious man. He reminds me of my old friend Kyle. The two of us used to be tight back in school, but he moved away to Indiana a few years back.

Can you believe I still dream about Eric sometimes? I don’t even think about him but he still pops up in my dreams! Son-of-a-bitch bastard, and to think Jena dated his older brother. In my younger days (ha!), I used to think that Eric was like my soulmate or something. I thought it was fate that someday we would be together. Funny thing is, I’ve never even carried on a conversation with him for longer than five minutes. I got to know his older brother real well for a while, and every time he would even mention Eric my ears would perk up like a fucking dog waiting for his master to throw the damn bone and stop talking about it.

It has been at least a year since I’ve last seen Eric. Last I heard, he and Rose broke up and he was in jail for a DWI. I was so obsessed with this guy, I mean, it was bad. I found his number in the phone book and called his house every day after school just to hear him say “hello” before I hung up the phone. One day at school, his girlfriend actually confronted me about my liking for Eric. She starts telling me she’s going to kick my ass, but she never did, she just threatened. I must say, I would have probably deserved it. Wow, I had it bad. In my mind, he was some kind of celebrity. Never again will I fall that hard for somebody, not that I don’t want to, but I just don’t think it will happen again. I think maybe age has a lot to do with it. There is a contradiction somewhere in this entry.

On the Road Again

March 1, 1998

After several hours and many miles of highway behind, you start to transform. It usually occurs after the sun has set and an unfamiliar nothingness surrounds as you journey on falling into a deep hypnotic state. Your body becomes comatose and your mind drifts off into a creative frenzy of thoughts. Your eyes start seeing things that don’t exist.

Once, when I had driven for nine hours straight I began to hallucinate to Pink Floyd playing on the radio. It was the album Wish You Were Here and everything seemed to fall into place. I mean, the trees passing to the side were in sync with the music and the never changing road was initiated into this momentary lapse of suspended time. With my best friend riding passenger taking in the same experience as I, it became understood that this is to be cherished, and for this particular time, we shall never witness again.

Still, with all the magical memories now in the past, places that are unseen will always exist serving as an excuse for further traveling. I am living on vacation as if it were my religion. There is so much out there that is sacred, pleasures yet to be enjoyed and wisdom waiting to be put to good use.

The Back Porch

March 5, 1998

This seems like one of those nights that you never want to end. My creativity is at its peak, and in this state of mind, life seems simple yet uncharted.

My intake of tiny white morsels have killed my appetite and are denying me from much needed sleep. Conversations are easy flowing and healing. Cigarette after cigarette we carry on from one subject to another, each sharing a bit of wisdom that was unknown to each other. All we can feel is life, and at the time of rising spirits, it is necessary to accept these closing words that will soon be lost after tired eyes. I have come clean for the first time, and after tonight, it will be the last.

Hidden Pleasures

March 6, 1998

Everybody has secrets. When I start to think about truth being revealed to fading blue eyes, a sense of doubt sets in stealing a vision of trust. A lie is the epitome of a half-assed confession that is believed only to the dim-witted fool. I have played the part and my downfall is never learning from mistakes. Mankind does not exist in the same world for we all have a hidden place where everyday chores are transformed into perfection. I have seen beyond my realm of fantasy and have made connections with others. I can understand what I hear and live what I myself have never experienced.

Motel Stay

March 6, 1998

The room is small with little space for inspiration. A quilt with green and blue flower prints brings color to the off-white walls that hold nothing except poorly painted pictures that have no real meaning at first glance but I am writing like a madman scribbling down anything that grabs my attention. In the past few days life has been crucial but self-realization set in giving me strength to believe in what I am and what I do. I love the flow of the pen gliding through lines as if a script has been written and all that’s left to do is memorize. It is a nice getaway. My spirits are at its all-time peak and I know that I shall be admired someday.

A Pat on the Back

March 7, 1998

My self-esteem is slowly on the increase and insecurities are well on their way to becoming extinct. A burst of creativity envelops me forcing me into bended fingers that seem to control my intoxicated mind. Writer’s block has been assassinated as I am set free and able to conduct a dozen pages in the period of one hour. Too many days have passed me by and I was drunk with self-pity criticizing what used to be appreciated. But now I can express emotions that were not fit for words.

Tonight I am on top of the world. I am accomplishing the very task that has been procrastinated since the beginning of last year. It is three in the morning and my faithful hand has been writing since eleven. I have what it takes to be successful and the only thing left to do is take immediate action. My dream will come true, and though I have been told that certain goals are out of reach, I know that my talent is needed.

Defending a Loved One

March 7, 1998

He has been there since life began to open up and reveal just how hard it is to survive. Numerous times I have attempted to take my own life, but he would always step in and explain to me what loyalty has to offer. I have heard criticism and false accusations that cheapen the very heart of my soul. I know a sickness exists, but I have more respect and love than to judge a personality trait that cannot be helped. I am dependent on you, and although the future is creeping upon, nothing is in vain and all is worth it no matter what sins have been committed. Nobody will touch my life in the way that you have. Without such company, my life would be extinct.

Friendship Prevails

March 7, 1998

Gwen and I checked into a hotel room tonight to get away from all the bullshit that seemed to build up with each passing day. She’s sitting at the table across from me drawing a wonderful picture that (in my opinion) is her best yet. I’ve been writing nonstop coming up with verse after verse. We have a connection which is rare in this day and age. Related by blood that was passed down from generation to generation, but yet we are not full-blooded, only half. Maybe if we get off our asses and make some money we could get a place together, or better yet, buy an Airstream RV and travel from state to state making a living by published writings illustrated with originality.

Still Going

March 7, 1998

I’ve gone through a pack and a half of cigarettes today. It is now six in the morning and I still continue to write as if morning is still night. My stomach feels empty but the thought of food disgusts me. I am tempted to smoke another bowl and my fresh beer has barely been touched as I sit here thinking about taking a trip to the bathroom. The cigarette between my fingers is burning fast and the ashtray lies just within reach. My face is pale, eyes red, but sleep is not desired. It has been months since creativity and inspiration have possessed my lazy mind, and finished pages have proven that there is a reason for chemical products. My book is halfway through and the night is still young.

Insomnia

March 7, 1998

Ah, Springtime is almost here which means the beach is just within reach. I can’t wait to feel the sea, the sand, and the sun.

My eyes are growing heavy but I keep thinking just one last page, a couple of more lines and then I will be caught up.

Four hours of sleep should suffice until a mid-day nap is needed. There is much to be done tomorrow, or today if you want to get technical. Action has possessed my bones convincing me that I must take control for once.

Little Reminders

March 9, 1998

We threw a huge party the other night at my Mom’s consent. Can you believe that? I actually asked her if I could have it and she said yes eventually. She even went out of town for the weekend at my request. I never thought the day would come when I would be at this point in the relationship with my mom. Anyway, the party was great man. Gwen and I had a house full and everybody was either drunk or stoned or both. One of our friends almost knocked over the China cabinet, he was so gone.

The guy I have a thing for was there (not Eric), and he kept giving me compliments all night and putting his arm around me, in a friendly way, nothing fancy, just a friendly gesture. I swear I never know how to act around guys I’m interested in. I mean, all night I talked to this guy named Shawn who’s gay. He’s a wonderful person and if I could talk to Andrew like I talk to Shawn, I would have it made.

Being shy is a horrible way to be. It is so much easier to talk to someone when you’ve been drinking. Most everybody ended up spending the night on the floor, but we did supply them with blankets and pillows, well, most of them anyway. As Gwen and I were making the guest list, I kept thinking about Julie and how bad I wanted her to come to our party. It’s little things like that, you know?

Compliments

March 9, 1998

There are those who believe in me giving strength to a poet in distress. I can go on with this knowledge.

I have risen above an idol that once inspired me to proceed with a childhood dream. In the eyes of my confidant there exists admiration that is indeed appreciated.

Ignorance. Paranoia. Self-mutilation. Hatred. Jealousy. We all suffer from minor downfalls.

I love to behold what can never be mine.

Boyish Antics

March 10, 1998

To see you now in the eyes of society hiding what was meant to be real, I realize how beautiful you really are. As a child, innocence prevailed even after your elder took you by the arm, pierced the skin, and injected what was meant to be an antidote. Later years would soon darken your eyes and steal a personality that was my only true friend within this circle of tortured souls. I became your lover despite casual differences that are still being talked about. We have recently said goodbye because of lifelong addictions, but this is not the answer. Help can be found without separation.

Conversations

(excerpts from Role Play)

March 10, 1998

I guess it is true that I possess some bitter feelings towards my elder. I just can’t understand why he would leave me behind freezing under some goddamn bridge while he went off to “find himself.” I don’t care how fucking old he was, it shouldn’t be considered a responsibility, it should simply be love.

(Timothy to Karen)

I think about it all the time. Everyday temptation gets a little worse until I finally give in. These things don’t go away, and to live a lifetime fighting your first true love is enough to fall back and surrender all that you have worked for just for an illusion that never really existed. My dreams have come true, but as human nature has it, we always want more.

(Michael to Ashley)

Of course I love him, but sometimes it is all too much! The fighting, the drinking, the drugs, I can’t handle it and I’m not saying that it is all one-sided! Maybe divorce isn’t the answer, but I don’t know what to do, he won’t even talk to me anymore, it’s like we get on each other’s nerves.

(Dylan to Lisa)

We can all be loved. Shit, even Regan is capable of love, she has to be, nobody is that heartless.

(Billy to Sarah)

A Bad Trip

March 10, 1998

Southpark is hilarious man. I’ve watched the same episode three times today.

Two weeks ago I had my mind made up that this journal project was finished, but in the past few days I have been writing nonstop and I think the much-hated writer’s block has once again passed. I get that quite often and every time it worries me into thinking that my talent is gone.

Gwen and I are going to Bay City this weekend and Judy is coming here to see Mom. Can somebody say party? No, I’m just kidding, but at least we will have a place to drink and smoke weed. Of course we’re going to have some people over, but nothing like last weekend. The cops live right across the street anyway.

Oh man, did I ever tell you about the time I shroomed in the presence of my Aunt Judy? Gwen and I were over at this guy Jim’s house, and he asked us if we wanted to eat some shrooms, so of course, we said yes. We ate them outside, smoked a cigarette, and then went back inside to watch Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. Big mistake! That movie tripped us all out. Gwen and I had to leave we were freaking out so hard. She took me back over to Judy’s house and then decided to go home.

Now, we were both thinking that the elders would be asleep, but at 12:00 at night, Judy was still alive and kicking as well as Gwen’s dad, I came to find out later. I walked in the backdoor, saw that she was in the kitchen cooking, and headed directly towards my cousin Evan’s room, but I was stopped in my tracks before safety prevailed.

“Lindsay, come in here for a sec!”

I heard her voice call out to me and knew I must face the inevitable.

“Yes?” I kept my head down.

“Hey Honey, are you hungry?”

“No,” I reply in my most sober voice.

“Well, what did you eat?”

“Nothing!” I begin to panic. A little voice inside my head starts betraying me, calling out the truth.

“Judy, listen, I ate a couple of mushrooms, and I really regret it! I swear, I will never do it again, but right now I’m really freaking out and I just need to be alone.”

Of course I didn’t say that, but I did come pretty damn close.

“I’m tired,” I remarked instead, and headed off into the bathroom. At this point, I just knew Judy suspected something so when I got out of the bathroom (after splashing my face a few times), I headed straight for the couch and proceeded to lie down and pray for sleep. Judy helped me pull out the bed, and as I pretended to sleep, she stayed in the living room paying bills! I heard her finally go to bed and there I was still laying there, curled up into a little ball, begging for the drugs to wear off.

I calmed down a little bit and eventually got up and went outside to have a cigarette. The same thunderstorm was still in progress, the one that I witnessed through the window every time I thought it safe to open my eyes where my aunt would not see. I sat outside until I grew tired and then finally crashed. I kept promising myself and God that I would never take shrooms again, and I haven’t, though I have taken acid since and that was pretty cool. Evan and his girlfriend Sue checked on me later that night, but I just wanted to be alone. We laughed about it the next day, but I seriously will never take another hallucinogen again, not even acid. It was terrible. I was driving myself to insanity for no reason other than a bad trip.

---

There was an unforgettable feeling of chaos that didn’t subside until control was finally possessed, and only then could I enjoy what was anticipated. After this conclusion had been drawn, I then asked myself what the point is in losing control only to hate it and struggle the rest of the time to retrieve it.

---

Watching the Time

March 11, 1998

My opinions change daily. I don’t even know why I bother expressing my thoughts when they’re just going to be contradicted. This twentieth year has gone by remarkably quick, and as I look to another birthday in just two months, I realize that in twenty more years I shall be forty.

Procrastination is one of my worst traits. If I don’t watch myself, life will be just another chore put off until tomorrow.

Eventually I will catch on and begin to live in the real world doing what I love to do.

Still Single

March 14, 1998

Well, here I am back in Bay Shitty. Judy is in Houston visiting my mom so we have the house to ourselves. I’m actually by myself right now which is unusual since there is always somebody to call company. Gwen will be here in a bit.

Man, I can’t think of anything to write about. Let’s see, Andrew was supposed to get in touch with us last night but he never did. Oh well, my feelings are not intense, I just think he’s a nice guy, you know, he makes me laugh. There is this other guy that I could really see myself developing a strong liking for, but I think Gwen might be into him too. That is one thing I will never do. Best friends going for the same person is a surefire way to end a friendship, though I must admit that I would love to get together with Guy (that’s his name). He is beautiful, and he has a great sense of humor. Get back, not worth it, wouldn’t happen anyway, end of story.

I’ve really been in the need for male companionship if you know what I mean! The person I really want is Leonardo Dicaprio, but that ain’t gonna happen in this lifetime. The thing is, I don’t feel nervous around Guy. We just crack jokes all the time and laugh about stupid shit, but it’s fun, and it seems that we could connect. Unfortunately, I really don’t think he is in my range, the boy could have anybody.

Self-Awareness

March 15, 1998

Most of the time I think of myself as some unattractive idiot. I know it’s a horrible thing to say about oneself but I can’t help it. Every day I try to keep up my self-esteem but there’s this little voice in my head that just will not go away. I think somebody just drove up. Nope.

After all this time we still find tranquility in the oddest of situations. There is a distinction in the manner of our being, and though vastly different, we are still able to connect.

No more space to occupy. I quit after the last line.

Short-Lived

March 16, 1998

This is another one of my weaker days. Out of thousands of possibilities, the one thing that is lusted for can never become reality. It occurred to me that I am the reason for my misery, but how can you change instinct?

I despise nights like this. The thought of tomorrow sends shivers up my spine but at the same time I can handle no more of today. My feelings tend to revolve around bitterness, but in the eyes of rejection my emotions fell numb. My mouth is throbbing and tastes like metal. My stomach feels empty but I cannot eat. Knowledge tells me that this too will pass, but what is there to look forward to? Nothing can direct me towards true happiness, and as I babble on night after night about selfish reasons for sadness, I realize what a bore I must be. Sarcasm is my only means of humor and my pride is really the only thing holding me back. I am very much aware of each and every one of my downfalls, that is the easy part. The more important question is how to overcome these bad traits?

Time is running late while a verse from the past carries on tempting me to ignore my voice of reason and give in just as always. My faithful kept repeating the words that threw me over the edge, attempting to comfort my mood. I traded in my shoes for another pair and found pain that has seldom been experienced. After my appointment I shall apologize for any harm done, and as it is only fair, I shall expect the same. Once again, I find myself fighting disappointment, trying to find peace in an empty space that was supposed to be filled with beauty.

Technicalities

March 18, 1998

I have to get oral surgery. The other day I went to the dentist and found out that I need to get five teeth pulled, four of which are wisdom I believe. They are going to have to put me to sleep, thank God. There’s no way I would have that done awake. Man, I’m gonna get a shitload of pain pills. Kick ass!

Well, the thing with Andrew didn’t work out. Gwen talked to him and it turns out that he is really in to me, but we just wouldn’t be able to spend time together since we don’t live in the same city. I mean, Houston is only a two hour drive to Bay City, but we don’t have dependable cars. That was a real let down, but this guy Dravin is in to me, and we get along great, but he lives in Bay City too. In fact, all of my potential mates live in Bay City. Mates. Sounds British.

Why is it that every time I come back to Humble after being out of town for a few days everything seems to go to shit? An IRS agent came by the house today looking for Mom. They are putting a levy on her paychecks. Jaren is in Corpus, Jena is in Austin, and I’m stuck in Humble for the next few weeks until I get my teeth fixed. Well, I’m gonna go watch Twin Peaks. Bye, love you.

The Flu

March 19, 1998

My throat has grown raspy from constantly inhaling chemicals. The tiny box-shaped room sits calmly in a smoky haze. Next door an uproar of laughter invites ears to listen in and define voices from one another. My nose burns sending a sharp pain all the way up to my forehead. The morning is early and medications have taken over. This is when my best work is done. When nothing else sounds appealing and my body feels weak it becomes a responsibility to keep up with a hobby that is usually denied. The air goes back and forth from hot to cold but neither come at the correct moment, the timing is always off. My hair remains untouched becoming more and more tangled and matted. Vitamin C is beginning to taste like cough syrup. On days when my health is good I spend most of the time in bed or on the couch, but as sickness prevails a sudden urge comes over me to become active and accomplish what needs to be done. My condition becomes worse and any energy that I once possessed vanishes. I think it is time for sleep.

Verses
March 23, 1998

There is grace in animal instinct. Vanity does not come from an outside appearance, it shall be found with age and wisdom.

Stumbling upon a stopping point expecting to come together again soon. Starting over following the same story line that never seems to grow old. Believing that this can last a lifetime where forever is one day.

It disappoints me to know that I became so excited about meeting with the forbidden drug. When will it occur to me that the pain is not worth the pleasure?

Lightbulb

March 24, 1998

How is it that three short months can have that much of an impact on one soul? It is not fair that my love suddenly means nothing after all that has been said and done. Ideas must be brought to life by another character, but it is one in the same when technicalities are dismissed. The method to my madness is an ongoing talent that brings meaning to a nobody. My roots have finally found length and when the weather is pleasant, I am able to advance. What does it matter if an understanding can never be reached? The past will always be remembered, therefore it is irrelevant to dwell.

Nothing Important

March 25, 1998

I’m feeling better today. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten that upset. Everything just kept piling up until I finally lost it. I need to talk to Dad. It’s been a while since we last spoke. I’m so bad about keeping in touch with people and calling them when I say I will. It’s four in the morning. I’m going to have a cigarette and go to bed.

Letter to River

March 26, 1998

I grasp as much information that I can. I remember at least three times a day. I dismiss time and enjoy what was left behind. New words take form but the point is left untouched. Something will always be said about that famous intake, and maybe this is a good thing. Maybe we need to be aware.

I consider myself to be an extremely shy person. In most cases, my mouth will stay glued shut and my eyes refuse to leave the floor when unfamiliar company surrounds me. I hear that you will not judge my defaults or laugh with mockery as soon as my presence is absent. Without a personal meeting, I feel as if I could reveal to you all these secrets that weigh me down. I could see you as a best friend that I connect with on a daily basis, and in my own private way, I do.

There is a new face that graces the cover of Hollywood perfecting the roles that you were entitled to. In my opinion, a resemblance does exist, but let’s be clear, there is a difference between having similarities and being one in the same. I saw the likeness well before it was publicized and sensationalized. This is true, that he is an obsession as well but never will he take the place of the one who converted me without evening knowing, the one who intrigued me and spoke to me as if we were physically acquainted.

It is a bit embarrassing for me to openly express how painfully affected I was by River’s passing. I mean, it was all I thought about for a long time, and even now as a matter of fact. I dwell on it, as much as I dwell on my best friend who died of a heart attack three years back. I guess now is a good time to explain to future readers that this is just a personal collection of thoughts and sentences strung together by one main topic. It is nothing more. I have no real facts or firsthand references, and for the time being, I don’t even know where I’m going with any of this. Inspiration is a onetime deal, and if any idea comes off as being total nonsense, it’s probably a good idea.

Teaser

March 26, 1998

Have you ever noticed how somebody is always willing to tell you their story or their problems? Nobody wants to listen these days. We’re just sitting back waiting to express what’s on our mind and ignoring what is really important. I just go off sometimes, mainly because I can think of nothing else to say. As always, life is repeating itself and I’m living today just as I lived yesterday.

Okay, it’s time to confess something. I’ve gone back to my old ways, you know, smoking pot and drinking all the time. The other night I almost had the chance to try crystal meth but the deal didn’t go through and I was left fiending for a taste of something that has never been experienced.

Wow, my lava lamp is doing weird things!

You know what the crazy thing is? I quit getting fucked up every night for a good six months because of school, and I almost failed in all my courses, but the first semester I was taking more hours and still getting fucked up and made a 3.0 average! Pisses me off! I really should get back in school but I’m so bad at committing myself. I’m just not a good student. Jena and Jaren are talking about taking a trip but they are going to be gone for a good month. Of course I’m going.   

Killing Time

March 26, 1998

I’m killing myself. I can feel the weakness, the sickness. There are many sides to human beings and what comes as a shock is meant to be predicted. At the ripe old age of twenty I have come to find out that my talent is not for me, nor is it about me. Everything revolves around outside happenings and how they affect my life. What would I do without society? As the morning creeps by I become more indulged in my creativity while sipping on Seagram’s and hacking up phlegm. My allergies are at an all-time high and my voice is unable to sing along with CDs. I lost the point again.

March

March 26, 1998

The air is mild but the wind blows strong and a cool breath of serenity sweeps past persuading me to leave the safety of my bed. The window is wide open and where stars usually exist are blankets of clouds moving at a steady pace. These are the times that I cherish, that I hold onto as long as possible. I am putting off sleep for nature.

Looking In

March 27, 1998

I long gathering with my longtime loved-ones reminiscing about the past and in the meantime making new memories along the way. We have been through it all, from revealing our darkest secrets to not speaking for months at a time. I know what to expect in any situation. I know what can’t be seen to others. A smile is like second nature to us all. Nothing needs to be explained. We are understood and accepted. My many phases could indicate schizophrenia, but it is not analyzed. I am not being read. I am heard.

I Don’t Know

March 27, 1998

I have got to quit thinking about it. It’s driving me insane. For as long as I live I will never forget, but I feel as though the incident was just yesterday. Four years means nothing.

Optimism

March 28, 1998

I finally called Dad. He’s coming to see me tomorrow. Grease is in the theaters again so hopefully we can go see that. Dad and I are both quiet people so we have to go play a game or see a movie when we get together, it’s not a bad thing, we just don’t talk that much. I’ve been really proud of myself lately, well, in some aspects, but I have been handling my emotions a lot better. My brother and I have been getting along great. We’re both making an effort to show each other more love. My life is so much happier when I’m not fighting with Kirk all the time.

When I feel that mood come over me I am actually able to overcome it. Depression is a big thing in my family, it is a learned behavior. No, I’m not going to therapy, I’m just sick of being bitter and unhappy all the time. Hell, I probably do need to go to therapy! Today was a bad day, but like I was saying, it could have been a lot worse.

Jayme broke up with her boyfriend yesterday. They had been dating for almost three years now. We used to be extremely close until what happened, it’s in the past but I still have a hard time trusting her. Thing is, Jayme and I have a great time together. I love hanging out with her. It just saddens me sometimes, but it’s getting better.

Motherly Instinct

March 29, 1998

My mom quizzed me about drugs tonight. She thinks I’m doing something because I keep getting thinner. I told her the only thing I did was smoke pot, and that makes you hungry. I don’t know why I keep losing weight, I really don’t. It bugs the hell out of me. People think I’m anorexic. Just today, I was taking a walk outside with Gwen and these little kids in the playground stopped what they were doing and just started staring at me. Finally, one of them came running up to me and said, “You’re skinny,” then she just continued staring. I said, “I know, it runs in the family.”

“Do you eat?” she asked.

“Yeah, about once a month.”

Gwen starts cracking up and says, “Usually she only eats once a year.”

This little girl is believing everything we say, and eventually we told her we were only kidding.

Mom asked me if I have ever done anything besides smoking weed. I told her I’ve taken acid once, but that’s as far as I went. Who wants to talk to their mom about their experiences with drugs, especially when they already suspect something? I’m not a druggie. I haven’t done acid or coke in over a year, and I’ve never really tried anything else, granted, I do smoke a lot of weed, and I do drink quite a bit, but that’s not why I’m so skinny. Hell, I’m trying to gain weight!

Self-Mutilation

March 30, 1998

I sometimes get this feeling that something is seriously wrong with me. I don’t know if it’s instinct or just paranoia, but something doesn’t seem right. My family and friends are worried about me, mom in particular. You know what? I’m a really bad person! I was just thinking about it. I talk shit about people, I lie, I have horrible thoughts sometimes, and I swear like a sailor. There are no explanations for my “bad side,” but I’m not the sweet, innocent, loyal person that everybody thinks I am. I can’t change. I’ve tried and it doesn’t work. Nothing works.

Self-Awareness

March 31, 1998

There are times when I can see nothing. No visions of the future, no happiness from the past, and nothing to be proud of. I am a coward. I am a slacker. I am ignorant. I am afraid of the world as well as myself. Today was interesting but at the end of the night when I found myself alone, for a split second I began to panic. Why can’t I learn what I already know? Anything of importance that is gained is forgotten a minute later. I am never in control. I am going nowhere. I am deceiving.

Speculation

April 1, 1998

I doubt myself more and more each day. Twenty years we have spent together so why is it that one little comment, one remark, can do so much damage even though it was false? That’s just it! Nobody reads the whole story, they just scan through pages looking for a climax and disregard all that speaks the truth. Why can’t we listen and stop assuming that what we hear is nonsense? The world is constantly looking for a savior, a messiah to come down and rescue us all from pain and misery, but why would we believe even if it occurs? Why would we trust something that is unknown?

Wake Up Call

April 4, 1998

Tomorrow we shall head for home where time seems suspended with or without. I have danced with happiness while holding the hand of popularity in my grasp, but a dance must come to an end. What was thought to be important became trivial after the need to worry was put to rest. My concentration is out of focus and although a pat on the back is well deserved, so is a slap in the face. Any news is bad news but even in this late hour, I can’t help but assume that the outcome will be positive. Then again, there is an unnerving feeling that taunts me every time I let myself become vulnerable to the current situation.

This is the third time I have come home to find an absence taken from myself. I am starting to notice a pattern of occurrences that have taken place in the last three years. There is a feeling of doubt that engulfs me. There is a feeling of doubt in the tendency of life and in the cycle of nature. My belief in the spirit is strong, the spirit of the land, the mind, the creator, but I cannot grasp the purpose of anything. I understand the balance, but in the eyes of a skeptic, it is difficult to accept. It is difficult to find peace among constant chaos.

Lost Dog

April 7, 1998

I can’t believe my Loui Boy is gone. When I got home yesterday from Bay City, Mom told me that he had been missing since the night before. It’s been two days and no sign of him. We put up pictures, went door to door, looked in animal shelters, nothing! Our flyers that we put up last night were taken down by this afternoon. I just got back from putting more up. We will find him!

Last night, I prayed for the first time since I was a child. It was heartfelt, honest, and sincere. I believe in prayer whole-heartedly, but I guess I just never knew how to go about doing it. I wept like a baby and I knew that I was getting through. It was healing, and afterwards, an unknown feeling of peace crept over me giving me faith at my lowest moment.

I want to build a stronger and closer relationship with God. I’ve always believed in him, but I have had my moments of doubt. I’m going to church this Easter Sunday with Mom. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been.

Tomorrow will be another day spent looking for Loui, and until he comes home, I’m going to keep looking. I love my little poodle dog. He’s my best friend.

Missing Link

April 8, 1998

It is difficult to imagine what it would be like to never see that face again. The number of days greatens as a feeling of doubt becomes harder and harder to ignore, but I have faith in what I believe, and I believe in prayer. It is easy to turn to religion during a crisis, and although I am new to an age-long ritual, it is easy to distinguish the difference between what feels fake and what you know is real.

When the day is at end, I find it impossible to hold back the long-awaited tears that seem to heal the pain temporarily. I thought this to be short-term, but the passing of a week has played on my spirits and killed my optimism. Surroundings are constant reminders of my recent encounter with loss. I cannot think, or laugh, or sleep, or function without having visions of an unsuspecting victim. My actions become desperate as another hour goes by chasing me into hiding, but I have been strong, as hard as that is to believe.

Once again, I am living through what I thought would kill me a month ago, but unfortunately, we go on, and what was once a common figure in your life, becomes a missing link in the years to follow. I break down frequently, but hope is all I have, and if that is lost, I might as well give up.

Stay in Bed

April 10, 1998

I had the weirdest day. Gwen picked me up to go see if Loui was at the pound, and on our way there was a transvestite sitting on a curb in front of Long John Silvers, dancing. It was odd. I don’t even think there was actual music playing.

On our way back from the pound, we ran out of gas and the next station was about ten miles away. We walked half the way on the side of the freeway, but we ended up getting a ride for the rest of the journey. He was a nice family man so we didn’t see the harm. He gave us a ride back to the car, we filled it with gas, and said goodbye to the nice family man. What’s so funny is that we saw about five cars with their hazards on speeding down the freeway and we kept making comments about it being so unusual, and the next minute we’re turning on our hazards as well, speeding to an exit.

Earlier, I got a call from this guy who saw our fliers, but he wasn’t calling because he had Loui, he just saw my picture with Loui (it was the only recent one we had) and decided to call because he thought I was sexy. Weird day, huh? Loui has been gone for a week now. This is a nightmare.

Coping

April 12, 1998

It doesn’t feel like home anymore. I hate this feeling of not knowing and waiting around for that one person to say the magic words. There’s always that emptiness that will not go away no matter how occupied the mind is. I now see the difference between sadness and depression, but even in my time of distress, I love the life I have lived.

There is a place where I find comfort that can never be lost, or stolen, or killed. My trademark is sarcasm with a smile, and with my goal nearing a beginning, I keep in mind the purpose of this atmosphere. I lose a little more every day, and these items are never gained back. They are never seen again. Now I know how selfish I have been and I can see where my weaknesses really lie. My understanding of each and every position occupied by an ally becomes my compass in further travels. Words are dismissed as pathetic attempts to catch the attention of a sympathetic ear, and when my mind is well, I am able to listen. Too much energy has been placed on the importance of dependency, but many have since moved on, and, I too, have finally said my goodbyes. There is always time to start again for something new is always found along the way.

Recovering

April 23, 1998

I’ve been in dreamland for the past four days. I had oral surgery Monday, and since then, I have been knocked out on pain pills. Last night was horrible. My stomach was empty because I hadn’t eaten anything in a day and a half so that the pain pills turned on me and I became nauseated. We called the doctor to tell him how much pain I was in, and he called in a prescription for different pain killers and nausea pills. Well, the nausea pills were actually suppositories, and after I took them, the inside of my ass burned so bad that I ran to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and pushed as hard as I could to get the damn things out. Suffice to say, they didn’t help the nausea and I spent the rest of the night throwing up different kinds of medications (I could taste them) and dry-heaving. I feel a lot better today. I just hope I don’t get dry socket.

Loui has yet to come home and I miss him more than ever. I keep having dreams that I find him, or he just shows up in the backyard or the living room.

I’m not sure, but I think I’m going to be leaving for another summer vacation in about a week. I’m not moving there yet, but Jaren is going for business, and Jena and I are going with of course. I wish Gwen could go, but her state board test is coming up. She’s never seen New Mexico, Arizona, California, or Nevada before. I know she would love it.

In Stride

April 23, 1998

There is not much left to be said for all has been spoken again and again. My heart is heavy and my reactions are delayed as another year approaches. But there is going to be greatness, for only the future is left to behold and I have the strength to heal. My wisdom is limited when it comes to romantic likings but loyalty stays true in any situation, and this bizarre triangle is not worth betrayal. For the first time I realize I am not alone, and with a little help from my friends I can be the better person and step away.

Off Course

May 4, 1998

My creativity has once again disappeared leaving me suffocated with the need to express and irritated by lack of inspiration. It is much too easy to let a month or a year pass without even blinking an eye. Youth is gaining a background and with enough memories to publish a book, I have accomplished very little and goals are evidently just something to humor me. As highly as I speak, I realize that I have no direction, or experience, or wisdom. My theories are contradicting, my mind is slow, and my claim to a newfound existence proved to be false.

My Side

May 5, 1998

Half the time I just sit in my room thinking of ways to get the hell out of here and grow more bitter with each interruption. I am always the one left behind in any situation, yet when my spirits are down, allies are forever asking me “why” when the answer is clearly obvious. I hate coming home, and fear that someday my ability to hold back will fail leaving me with no choice but to come clean of all my hatred and act in the way I have always criticized.

He taunts me like a fucking dog. Why should I feel guilty for feeling pain? But nobody even asks, they just get pissed off because I didn’t return a smile or kiss ass when expected. I don’t want sympathy. I just want to be respected and understood, but the almighty king is once again taking advantage of his thrown, and at the risk of my beheading, I take what is given and pollute my soul with more rage that must remain hidden.

P.S. Where would I be without you?

Restless

May 6 – 8, 1998

Since that day, all has been meaningless. I choose not to write when my mood is in limbo. There are relics hanging just above my head reminding me of their habitat, my habitat.

I can’t seem to get it together. Every day I start over in my head knowing that there is no need to backtrack. I am aware of what needs to be done, it just doesn’t sound appealing. I hate change.

It’s time to take off for a while. I need to feel something different, find inspiration again.

The Groove

May 8, 1998

I can see it. I can always see it, but sometimes it is blurred by insecurities and chemicals.

In the Groove

May 9, 1998

I keep talking about how much I hate this place and how much I need to get away and move to the west, but Houston is no different from anywhere else, the weather and scenery may tend to differ, but modern-day life is the same. It’s the memories that haunt me and they cannot be left behind no matter how far I go. If it wasn’t Houston it would be somewhere else that I would want to escape from.

When enough time passes and we are still sitting in the same place, anything can seem like hell. Don’t get me wrong, my plans to move west (wherever that may be) have not been cancelled, I just came to the realization that I probably won’t find happiness there either. My surroundings would be much more pleasant, and the excitement of living in an entirely new place would inspire me in all aspects, but I can’t assume perfection.

I have a bad habit of building things up in my head and painting a pretty picture predicting an unknown outcome. It is too simple to say that happiness comes from within even though it truly does. Maybe happiness isn’t what I’m looking for. I love traveling, going from place to place, experiencing so much in so little time. No matter where I settle down, I probably won’t want to stay.

Something New

May 11, 1998

I took a rib laced with heroin tonight. I’m still feeling the effects even though it’s been a good four hours since I’ve taken it. My thoughts cannot form sentences and even when they do, I’ll forget the main topic seconds later. My eyes are heavy with sleep but physically I don’t want to stop until I collapse. Four in the morning is disregarded as a foreign language. The hallucinations are kicking in and I feel paranoia touch me on the shoulder, but it is overcome by this feeling of acid in my stomach.

How long have I been out here leaning against a wooden porch vulnerable to any hidden presence that might threaten my state of being? Cool air finally finds his way into my skin. It comes and goes, and for now, it has subsided. The quick fix of my one-hitter over-powers the effects of the pill taken just moments ago, and as I finally lift my eyes I can notice my disappointment. This is a feeling known all too well but it is not a bad thing, it is comfort, for disappointment was my landmark leading to normality. Once again, the stranger returns leaving me somewhere between absolute confusion and anticipated chaos. This was not to be expected.

Falling Behind

May 12, 1998

Tonight I would rather be alone. I’m in Bay City over at my aunt’s house, and Gwen and Julie are playing some video game over at Guy’s house. Nothing sounds appealing. Weed, alcohol, pills, they do no good at times like this. To top it all off, I came outside for some privacy and, lo’ and behold, about five preteen girls are practicing their cheers right across the street. I hate cheerleaders. I wish I could cry, or scream, or laugh, or even talk, but I can’t, this mood won’t let me. I’ve been giving Shawn the cold shoulder all weekend, and when I was forced to face him, all he talked about was his ex-girlfriend.

Okay, so now the cheerleaders have gone inside, but now there is a train blowing his fucking horn continuously as if he knows my nerves are shot. I need a shoulder to cry on, someone to grab me by the arm and take me some place quiet and stay with me until I am able to open up.

Julie and Gwen have been asking me what’s wrong all day, but you know how it is, the only word you can conjure up is “nothing,” and everybody knows you’re lying, and even when they do call your bluff, you still give no information. I don’t even know what my problem is. I’m just extremely sad. I keep waiting for Gwen to come check on me like she usually does. I mean, I left Guy’s house without telling anyone I was leaving. I know, I’m acting like a sympathy junkie, but I just can’t fill in the circle, it has to be one on one. Why is it so hard to admit to weakness?

Julie and I were talking about getting some more of those pills, but she’s been addicted before, and I don’t need another vice. I must say, we did have fun. It was just between the two of us, not even Gwen knew at the time. We bonded. Julie is like my older sister, she’s 28, I’ve known her almost all my life. The four of us (Gwen, Julie, Jena, and myself) made a pact that no matter what happens, we were going to stick together. Now, Gwen and Julie are talking about getting an apartment in Sugar Land, Jena is thinking about moving to Austin with Jaren, and I’m going to be stuck in Humble alone. It’s not like I don’t have the choice of moving to Sugar Land or Austin, it’s just that I’m torn between both parties, and besides, I still don’t have a job, and I doubt that I’ll be able to find one that would pay enough money for me to support myself. Who wants to hire a twenty year old (21 next month) who has no experience in the real world?

There’s just so much to say, but I don’t know how. I can’t think it, or speak it, or write it, I can only feel, and I feel completely numb. Once again, there is acid in my stomach and my freshly lit cigarette only reminds me of my thirst, but my drink has gone flat and my ride is parked across town. I think I’m going to climb the roof and visit the stars for a bit.

My Time

May 14, 1998

There is no place to go. If I stick around for much longer my sanity shall no longer be mine. I know that my sadness is obvious to others, but I really do try to hide it. To put it simply, I am a bitter person. Happiness pisses me off when I am not included. I am jealous, dishonest, vindictive, judgmental, and deceiving. The worst part is, is that I actually claim to be a good person. I actually wonder why I get shit on all the time! Then again, I seem to be no different than anybody else. I mean, when you think about it, everyone is an asshole. Nobody is a saint.

I just think it’s ironic that every time I overcome some obstacle in my life and I finally find acceptance and understanding, something bad always has to happen, something worse than before. I shall forever be that person sitting back somewhere on the sidelines watching all the players take their lead while I just keep getting hit in the head with the ball.

I’m really starting to hate Bay City, and to think I might be living an hour away in Sugar Land. You know Gwen and Julie are going to be dragging me here all the time, especially since Gwen just got back together with her ex-boyfriend. Yup, I just lost my best friend again.

Shawn talked to Julie and asked her why I haven’t been hanging out with him since I’ve been here and if I was mad at him because of what he told me the last time I was down. Then he told her that he really didn’t mean it, that he loves me as a person, and would love to get together with me, but he didn’t think I liked him and so that’s why he said it was too soon, that he still wasn’t over his ex-girlfriend. Okay.

I was supposed to see him tonight but I left Guy’s house to get something to eat with the intention not to return. Oh well! Guy is the one I want anyway (that’s smooth, his freakin’ brother) but he has this thing going on with this other girl. It’s complicated. He and Jena kinda had a thing, so that’s another reason I can’t go for him. Last night, we were flirting hardcore, and I knew I shouldn’t have taken it seriously, but I’m just too damn vulnerable.

It’s one in the morning and I’m sitting outside in the back of the house being anti-social again. Everyone is inside watching Southpark, but I needed time to think, and cry, and finally, write. This is my time, and without it, I am a bomb waiting to go off.

In the Dark

May 16, 1998

I am going to talk to Shawn about what Julie told me. We will see what happens from there. I’m going to try not to expect anything. Gwen and I had a long talk about the near future and I told her just about everything I’ve written. She listened with an open ear. I think I’m going to do it.

Next week we are going looking for a job in Sugar Land and a four bedroom house, I think. Jaren is still moving to Austin, but he will be staying with us on the weekends so just about the time we start to miss him, he will be back. Julie and Gwen are going to help me until I can get on my feet financially. They just want me to move with them. Jaren will be paying Jena’s rent so she’s got it easy. I’ve got quite a bit to think about. A lot of planning to do.

Dawn

May 17, 1998

Fuck Shawn. Partying with Steve and Gwen right now, having a blast. Life is good tonight and Steve says “much love.”

Bad news travels fast (so I found out tonight), and with confidence in mind, I refuse to dwell on what can’t be helped and focus on what I need to do. The next week will be spent alone with friends finding life somewhere else, and me absorbed in a passion that needs to be fulfilled. Who knows what the hell I’m going to do? New Mexico is growing distant but not yet out of sight. All I really do is talk, and dream, and wish, and bitch. I don’t know who I am or where I’m going because it changes with every page. Nothing is long-term.

Country Village #214

May 22, 1998

I can hear the bagpipes in the distance rising to a climax and then descending into oblivion. I withdraw my hand from the curve of the phone knowing how quickly it takes for importance to vanish. In a faraway land there is two of us but these reservations have been cancelled, there is no room left. My fears are nothing more than reminders giving me the intensity that I need to make it, but at the end of the week, tonight, this polluted shelter sits empty with only one tenant visible.

This forgotten heap of shit is my answer. I can grasp what I have known since the beginning only for a short period of time before faith subsides and insecurities set in. I can do anything. To hell with complications and boundaries. A vast island with crystal blue waters and soft white sand lifts up her head and sends a smile my way. She is a friend indeed. To hell with limits. I cannot carry a weight heavier than myself. I am on the way upward because of rejection thrown back at me with the twist of a shoulder. I can laugh on my own. This is not about placing blame, seeking revenge, chasing a dream, or being alone. I can see beyond these city limits a different breed of species. There is nothing but memories in this shack. Take it in stride.