(no subject)

jesus its been years since ive written in this thing. i can't even begin to explain whats been happening in my life, so many things. jobs, online relationship with a crazy woman, relocating several times.

i dont know why im even writing this.

it's ridiculous and i have no plans to keep writing in here i just needed a place to vent about how terribly lonely i am.

the kind of lonely where you feel it in the pit of your gut and it just overflows your heart with longing and makes you sick.

i think im the lonliest person in the world. :(

my ex finally met someone else, someone she genuinely cares about. its fine... im glad for her and everything but it really reminds me of the fact that she never genuinely cared about me. she never read this live journal. if her current gf had a livejournal like this, she would be obsessed with it. she never cared truely. kim, the crazy online ex from utah, she never cared either. not in a genuine way. i existed as someone for her to control, thats about as much as she cared. she wanted a pet to tell what to do, and i did it for 4 months until i just gave up.

she is sad and a crazy person, completely mentally unstable and i cant deal with it. im not someones pet.

but where does that leave me?


i want to have a baby but... mabye i shouldnt even consider it. perhaps im not cut out seeing as how i cant even find a woman to genuinely care.

i have very little friends.

im just sad. 


this carnival ride of an existence trip im on is quite the excursion. i am finding myself to be divergent. inexcusably out to lunch as the other bask in their specific hands dealt. i'm not here. im in another place. im thinking about art but art is a luxury and i need a trade.

the winds are all encompassing and my journey is half naked, scattered about old roads... dangling off of the edges and just so delicious to onlookers. they ghasp, shock shock horror. im a cranium warp twist, my brain in a cajumbles.

and so i listen to KID A like its the year 2000 or something, like its the past... and the past is just so furtive, just so sneaky it makes like its the future. the future is past.

kurt cobain would have been 46. today.

my eyes are melting from the insides outward, and im getting jittery and not focusing too hard on all of the soft spots spurting about us in a casual way. i am not here in this place.

the people in this town liked me until they got to know me.

and i suppose thats how i happen upon everyone, and everyplace.

my cat is doing crazy dashes all along the carpet.

i am torn to shreds and no one wants to read my book or dig in deep enough to understand my utter remnants.

i should have known.

and perhaps no one ever will.

i write poetry from a shelf as i expell and expunge the mess. i take photographs of atmosphere,