Flashbang

Ok.  Denial is the first stage of every neurosis on the planet, of every possible psychotic problem that the world has to offer.  Perhaps I am a psycho.  If I am, well, I’m fine with it so you better either get used to a possibility of me jumping on you with  a kitchen knife or go your separate way. 

I am seriously obsessed with people.  In some ways, I wish someone was as obsessed with me as I am with half the people I know.  I read everything that they let me about their lives…with a voracious appetite that cannot be satiated no matter how hard I try to satiate it.  I’m good at being non-chalant when I have to, I’m an actor, and if it came to the point where I had to act my life away, I could do it.  But that’s not where I am right now because I’m ever the idealist.  Where is this all going?  I’m not sure.

I just had a singular experience, a focused moment where all my fascinations became the most concentrated they have ever been and it was exhilirating and wonderful in a dark and personal way, but frightening in a fully social concept.  I found myself doing something that I knew most people would look at me like a lunatic for doing and admitting but I did it anyway.  I found some random person’s diary, a very interesting, intelligent, confused, messy, deliberate, random, chaotic, structured, bipolar, emotional, heartless, passionate, compassionate, strange being and I just read their entire diary leaving copious notes and thinking about talking to them.  I want to talk to people in general.  I meet these people, mostly women of course because I HATE men, and I want to talk to them and meet them and look into their eyes in some sort of semblance of real life and just connect with them.  I hope to impact their lives with what I do….I want them to impact mine…they do just by existing and that excites me.

It is a strange tragedy that I feel so worthless to the world in general and feel the significance of each piece of the world in my own life.  It is my greatest, darkest, most unsatiated desire in the entire existence of things to find someone that I can lay beside and give everything to in the darkness.  That is why I persisted with Stephanie, because she was the one.  But there is only one real place for that moment, it’s lying in bed in the dark after making-love in a passionate, deep, exciting, hot, errotic, and beautiful way where it is both everything wrong and everything right….an age of absolute innocence and perfection and then I can say everything…I can spill out everything I want to be. 

And interestingly, I feel that if the girl runs then, so then the girl runs. 

I’ve always been capable of giving up my own desires, it’s part of a personal sense of what is harder to do.  Most people are so self-serving and feel justified in it that I can’t help but believe that the true virtuous path is to abstain from one’s own pleasures to satiate the greatest passions of another being.  It’s what I attempt to do but often fail because most people don’t operate under the same theories and disciplines as I do.

I have to stop this.  There are other things I should be writing and I just feel that I’m unsure of who will read this and what I want to say to anyone and everyone who does read this.  It’s just that, that right now, I feel like I’m missing something huge and important that has NEVER been filled properly…that has always been empty…I shouldn’t say never.  This may hurt some to hear, but I feel only Stephanie filled it.  Kate, I want to say, that I still love you and always will, and while you may not have been the thing that fulfilled this dark part of me, what I want to say to you right now is that you’re the most intelligent and exciting distraction from it there ever was.  You satisfied me without fulfilling me, strange but true. 

I want to be overflowingly cornball passionate and honest with everyone.  I guess that’s not right to be.  I need a short nap.