It has begun. The annual pilgrimage home.

It started out Thursday afternoon and it was an uneventful trip up to Fresno. Pickles was behaving as I was just listening to some podcasts what not. It was a simple and easy ride.

Friday, the day of the drive.

It was an easy ride, clear sailing and very little traffic. But for something reason, it just felt off, like I was going slower than usual. Maybe it was just me and that I’ve been feeling tired lately, but it just felt like it was a longer drive by an hour or I haven’t been driving as fast as I usually do.

It was just strange.

Throughout the drive, I had to deal with Pickles’ gas.

He is having some stomach issues. He doesn’t want to eat, or he’ll eat a little bit.

His stool is a little bloody and soft, but hopefully whatever but he has will get out of his system.

Eventually we made it to Portland.

* * *

Oh Portland. Portland Portland Portland.

What can I say about Portland and Pickles’ behavior in Portland?

He’s a handful; just a fucking crazy dog.

The first year, I tied him in the yard, he slipped out of his collar and found a hole and ran away.

The next year, I tied him on the patio and shut the door to downstairs, but didn’t lock it. Slipped out of his collar and harness and went around the neighborhood.

Last year, I tied him up to patio with his harness and leash, locked the patio door to the downstairs. He chewed through his harness and then clawed at the screen door, wrecking it.

This year, knowing everything that happened in the prior years, I brought out the metal long leash, wrapped it around the foundation of the patio and put on a really tight harness, shut and locked the patio door, slid the screen door back and put a chair in front of it. I outsmarted him. He’s not getting out. I can go out and rest easy.

I was wrong. I was fucking wrong.

We got home and I was feeling a little scared, yet confident that my plan worked. It has to have worked. I outsmarted this guy. He couldn’t get out. But nope, as we went through the garage and opened the door to inside the house, there he was. I was like, how?

I went outside to the patio, his harness was in one piece. So he slipped out. The sliding glass door was closed and locked. How did he get in? The fucking OPEN WINDOW. He destroyed the screen and jumped through.

First thing he probably did was to go for the open window in the front of the house. He pawed and pawed at the screen, and finally pushed it out. Pickles looked out, too high, can’t jump. Then he went to the kitchen to the other open window. Started chewing on it, too high.

Then I guess he started to sniff around the house for me, ended up in the master bedroom and started to make it the master of his domain. Peed on the fucking bed. Fucking peed on the bed.

So pissed. So upset. So fucking angry that he would do something like that.

What the fuck is wrong with him? I wonder what goes on in that head of his to make him just go crazy and need to get out and find me. Why?

Where did the trauma stem from?

That is what I had to go through last night. That was the last event that happened during my first day of the road trip. Fucking Houdini Pickles.

The rest of the ride up to Federal Way was quiet, me seething in anger and thinking about how I could have prevented it or how what I can do about it in the future. There are options, but they are too much.

Frustrating. Very frustrating.

I give it. I gave up. I can’t outsmart him. It’s too taxing to figure out how he would react. I thought I knew him, and I did, but I didn’t see. I was at fault. I didn’t notice the open window. I should have known better.

I should have caught it. It was my responsibility. I was too wrapped up about him being tied up, he couldn’t possibly slip out of his harness.

I was wrong. I paid the price.

I was so wrong.

Fucking asshole piece of shit dog.

Urgh!

* * *

I need to find a boarding facility for him for when I leave for Glacier National Park.

I thought about leaving him in Puyallup, but after everything that has happened, I don’t want to take that chance of him getting out again and destroying stuff. It might be different since Scout would be there, but I don’t want to take that chance. What if he gets out and takes Scout with him. I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that, that asshole.

So, the research begins for a boarding facility here.

Stiff.

That’s what I was last night. Stiff.

I went out. DTLA. Went to the trendy bars crowded by people that I am not familiar with, with some friends of mine, of which I only know one well.

It was their mission to get me laid. It was their mission to at least get me a number. It was their mission and it was a failure at launch.

Never take an introvert to a loud crowded place. NEVER.

It never works out well, as it’ll always be a night of small talk. Fuck small talk.

It was a night of being in my head, watching whatever was on the television even though I couldn’t hear anything at all.

It was a night of just being out for the sake of being out. It was a night of fulfilling my resolution, to be more social, to go out more.

It was just a night of not fun.

I’m sure the others had fun. They were in their element. They were in their little groove. They like the bars, they like the scene.

It was just too much for me.

I know that I could have been better. I know that I could have made a better effort, but there comes a time when I shouldn’t have to force myself to have a good time. A good time should never be forced. A good time should just exist organically. It should just be.

But it never happened.

It was that.

* * *

Tired.

My trip is coming up and there are just a few more things for me to do.

I need to make a trip to Target to get my usual road trip snacks and treats for the multiple hikes I plan on doing.

I’m really looking forward to this trip.

I just need to get away. I need to get away from people. I need to just be on my own. Me and the open road.

Heavenly.

* * *

Dating sucks.

I think that is all that needs to be said about that.

I’m not meeting anyone. Very little responses.

Blah.

* * *

Like a drum, baby don’t stop beating

Looking and searching. Searching and looking.

Time is slowly creeping up for my yearly pilgrimage home. My little road ventures up north, finding things to do, planning out my schedule.

I’m looking forward to the time alone with my dog, time alone with nature, time alone, walking the beaten path and making my own paths.

It’ll be new adventures. It’ll be new experiences. I’ll be new memories.

Life. It beats. That’s one thing that is constant. It beats. Eventually, you’ll stop beating, but the beat still goes on.

* * *

It’s gloomy today.

The freak nature of heat has turned towards the cool, leaving its brightness with the sticky wet humidity.

It bakes, basting our skin in our own sweat.

I’m in side, typing away, watching life happen as I live my own.

* * *

Empty chairs and empty tables.

Life of a hermit.

These are the times that make it for me. These are the time that makes it bearable. The emptiness of things around me. I’m just here, doing my thing, by myself.

No one is around me, but the people that need to be. No patrons, no loud people chatting, no distractions.

I sit as I just type away, thinking and thinking of words to put down. I sit and type and think of other stories that I can tell. I sit and think about the current projects that I have. I sit and think of a solution.

I sit.

Once in a while someone would come in. I glance up, give them a once over and think that is it.

It is time to play a little game.

* * *

Tall Asian guy in the Green shirt:

He’s a computer engineer working at a development company. He came over a while ago from Taiwan, but not at that impressionable age where he was able to fully assimilate into the culture. His way of dress is showing that he’s keeping his fobby sensibilities while trying to fit in at the same time. It’s too much, but it works. We can spot him.

He’s here for lunch at Tsujita, waiting in the long line. He was thirsty, coming in here for a quick tea and boba while his friends, all with similar backgrounds and that one token white guy, wait for their table.

They are all single, out here to just people watch, maybe hopefully catch someone’s eye, while talking about the latest and greatest in technology and maybe a little problem solving about work.

Tis is his life. Tis is their life.

* * *

Time to brainstorm. Time to write.

I think I have gotten to the point where I’m bored with my prose and want to jump back into some screenwriting.

I want to write an action script. I want to write a smart action script with a female lead. She’s not a gung ho unstoppable female lead, but someone that is flawed and can be hurt. She’ll pick up a partner who’s the same. Someone that is broken.

What is it though? What is the plot? What is the story?

I need to brainstorm.

Brainstorm.

Time to switch gears.

Stretching my fingers. Stretching my brain.

Testing the dexterity of these digits that haven’t been put to the daily grind of letters and words and sentences that transcribe the thoughts in my head. It has been a while where these free flowing thought are what they are. Free flowing. Thoughts.

I am always worried about finding something to talk about, something to write about. I am getting the creative juices again, thinking about new projects, new ideas and new scripts. I just need to stop being lazy and just do it. I need to change the way that I live and just be more active in the pursuit of these interests.

Do.

* * *

Change.

It comes slow, but it does come. It comes when it is ready. When there is a strong and united force that brings it on. Old thoughts slowly die as the new ones take its place. Change.

It’s a gradual process that doesn’t happen overnight. It’s slow, methodical, and sometimes it just explodes onto the scene.

Same Love.

Closer to equality. Closer to being the same. It is an idea that should have latched on so long ago, but it is sad that it has taken so long.

But it is here. A step closer to all. A step closer to equality.

No freedom till we’re equal. Damn right I support it.

* * *

Stirring. It stirs from within.

It ravages and howls with ravage intensity.

Its hunger surges through my body to take whatever it is that I can get for sustenance. It wants to devour all. Me

There’s a hunger for difference. There’s a hunger for a new status quo.

Change.

* * *

He drops.

His head cracks hard on the floor.

Everyone stops, not moving. They couldn’t do anything. It was a slow motion accident to them. All they can do is watch.

The howls of the boy blast through the little shop followed by the screams from his aunts, mother, and grandparents, in that order.

His mother reaches him first, picks him up and cradles him. She didn’t see it, but her sister did, the dark wet crimson that was on the ground. More hysteria.

All is quiet, but the soft whimpering of sobs.

* * *

I’m living on such sweet nothings.

I have run out of words to say. I have run out of thoughts to write about.

It has been really difficult to write much of anything. I have no idea why.

Is it because of the brain fog? No idea.

Riding riding, traveling with many others that I’m not familiar with even though they are family.

Family trips are difficult. Trips with people are difficult.

I’m just use to the solitary journeys between with me and my four legged son. Those are the best. Those are the simplest. But I guess every journey and company has their place and time.

* * *

Niagara Falls.

What can I say about it? What is there to say about the majestic falls that softly mists its tears, drenching us with its sorrows?

It was just simply beautiful to see in person and to experience the rage of the fall. The vastness of nature just makes me feel insignificant. It was definitely a treat for me to see it, as a nature lover.

Sure the area was a little touristy, but it is what it was.

As beautiful as the falls was, the wonderment of being at the bottom just getting drenched by its own precipitation, I didn’t have the sense of wonder that I did as when I saw the Grand Canyon for the first time nor when I looked out at Yosemite Valley after the first time climbing up Yosemite Falls. It was grand for sure, but it didn’t touch me with its beauty.

I don’t know why, but I thought it would touch me more than it did.

I’m not saying that I didn’t enjoy it for what it was. It was great. But compared to the other wonders, I guess I just wasn’t as moved. I mean, going to the Grand Canyon for the second time, I was still deeply touched and in awe by the vastness of it. It just put me in my place. My little problems are nothing. I am nothing. We are nothing; just little insignificant specs of sand in the grand scheme of things.

Niagara Falls never made me feel that way. It was a different feeling. Was it because of the company that I went with or was it just that it didn’t do it? I guess I’ll never know.

* * *

Toronto.

It was cool. Like most metropolitan areas, it’s a city and everything that you would expect from a city. Traffic. Public transportation. People.

It was a very clean city with their different neighborhoods and their little quirks.

The best find for us was probably Kensington Market. It was a very quaint and cute area that reminds me of Los Feliz or even Silver Lake. Very hipster, artsy, healthy, bohemian, crunchy.

I guess I am secretly one of them. I never thought I would be. I’m still in denial. I think I’ll always be.

I did find the city to be very walkable, but in my sense of the word walkable — that I just walk everywhere. I never felt at any time I was in danger of being robbed or mugged or in any danger at all. I hardly saw any homeless people.

It was definitely a nice city. One thing that I found interesting was the amount of construction that was going on. There was a shit ton of construction that went on.

Usually for a city, a sign of construction, for the most part is a sign of a strong economy or a sign of growth. Whether that is the case for Toronto, I’m not sure. But interesting indeed.

* * *

The Storm.

It came out of nowhere. It was probably the worst storm that Toronto had in 60 years. It was very very interesting for us.

After we came out of lunch, the wall of dark gray and black came moving in behind the skyline. It was definitely going to rain. Thick clouds. No breaks. Storm clouds.

It was funny because before lunch, just an hour earlier, it was a bright and sunny day with a little cool breeze to stamper the usual humidity.

We were on our way to the ferries to go to Toronto Islands, hoping to spend a few hours there to see the Toronto skyline lit up at night.

Never got the chance.

As we walked onto the ferry, the cloud kept storming its quiet march over the city. The ferryman said it was going to rain and it definitely did. Almost right when we stepped off of the ferry to the Islands, the rain came and it never let up. The boom boom booming of the thunder with the light dance of lightening. It was almost majestic and beautiful if we weren’t stuck under a gazebo trying to steer clear of getting wet.

We’ve been there for about 30 minutes, waiting waiting waiting. Just waiting for an end that will never come any time soon. I was getting impatient of waiting. I need to be out there, doing something. Whether it was waiting for the ferry or go exploring the islands, I needed to be anywhere but under the gazebo; ’cause either way, we were going to get wet.

So the decision was made to get back on the ferry and head back into the city. Five seconds in the rain and we were drenched. Soaking wet.

We got back onto the ferry, got shelter for a few minutes as we patiently hit the city. After we reached land, we had to figure out how to get back to the hotel, or just figure out our plan of action.

Hailing a cab was pointless. Traffic was pretty much at a standstill. The city was flooded. Water was crashing over the curb, reaching over my ankles.

I haven’t been in a storm like this in years. Years! Instead of freaking out, I was actually kind of having fun in the rain, seeing the panic in some people and just how fucking hard the rain was coming down. The city was in a standstill.

We needed to get out of there (shelter under an office building). All I know was that our hotel was a few miles up the street and over a few blocks. We just need to figure out how to get there. I was prepared to walk. So that’s what we did, we walked a few blocks closer to our destination. We braved the rain, the power outage streets, the traffic, the over-ankle-high flooded streets and eventually made our way to Union Station.

Freedom. Salvation. Fucking awesomeness. We can get home.

But looking at the schedule, I had no clue which train to take.

Speaking with a Transit office, he told us that we can actually walk to our destination. At first I was like, ummm, how can we get there without getting wet, but then he said we can use PATH.

It is a series of underground pathways and corridors that connects all of these buildings downtown together. It was a MOTHERFUCKING MOFO BRILLIANT IDEA.

So, our series of unfortunate events turned into one of the most memorable and adventurous things we did in Toronto. I don’t think I would ever forget it. Just plain awesomeness.

By the time we navigated the maze of corridors and buildings and ended up at Dundras Square, the rain stopped, leaving the city stranded in a standstill of wetness and people.

People caught unprepared without umbrellas or those that were, were left without a way home. Subways weren’t running as they were flooded. They relied on shuttle buses, but they come on an inconsistent shuttle, even though they had replacement relief shuttles for the storm. Floods of people push forward trying to get on each bus, but they were soon filled leaving many to wait again, patiently for the next one, and the cycle continues.

The next day, it felt like nothing from the night before happened, but the pictures and news of the event. The city went on. The subway lines ran.

Life went on.

The city weathered the storm.

Toronto — a memorable trip.

* * *

Annoyances.

There were some annoyances on the trip. Most of it probably stems from the fact that I travel alone. That’s who I am, a sole sojourner, paving a path just for me and no other.

It’s just a matter of dealing with other people and their schedule and what they want to do, whereas when I travel alone, I only have to confer with myself.

Usually, I am go with the flow, do whatever and I still believe I am that way on this trip, but there were times where I do feel hindered and it was just a matter of there being a lot of waiting, of not doing anything when we can be doing something else.

There were some annoyances of health issues and things that came along with the food allergies and finding places and things to eat. Or even the constant discussions of all things health related.

In a way, it gave me the motivation to be fit, to exercise more, to excise this sedentary lifestyle that I am living. Maybe it did. I’ll make an effort.

Hopefully it’ll become a habit.

But we will see.

We will definitely see.

* * *

Change is coming. Change is on the cusp.

It all hinges on decisions and commitments and conviction. Change is on the way.

* * *

Travel.

The next one is planned. It will start soon, in about a month.

Looking for things to fill up the many days that I’ll be spending up north, and hoping to fit in some days of relaxation and be with family.

I guess we will see. We will see.

Tis the season to be wanderin’. Tis the time to walk this earth.

It’s hot. It’s scorching.

The final day is over. The last day is over.

The smooth comfort that we had, never left even though everything was out in the air. Everything went like we never skipped a beat.

We were we and I am thankful for that.

No awkwardness. There’s just a general mutual agreement of letting things go on until it stops.

Our final embrace, tight and long. Holding onto each other, keeping us in our thoughts just a little longer, extending our eventual departure to the unknown forever never just a little longer.

Now our future is no more. Now we are no more.

We have to let happenstance dictate our story. We have to let life happen and forget that we were a part of each other’s lives no matter how insignificant we were a part of it. We just have to let it be and maybe our paths will cross again.

The blank state of our empty canvas look similar now; each empty waiting for brush strokes to form the future that we make for ourselves.

Will our pictures and paintings turn out to be similar?

Will we have shared brushstrokes to mark our similar experiences?

Only time will tell.

But until whenever is whenever the time for things to happen, we’ll go on making our individual brush strokes, living our life into the masterpieces that only we can appreciate.

* * *

Searching.

The search continues. The search for what was hopeful, what was pined for, for that everlasting but always fleeting connection that everyone years for.

I held onto the hope for so long, that I maybe was blinded to some cracking sparks that came along the way. But I am free now, free to see those sparks. I just hope I don’t miss them, so soft and so subtle

I need an explosion to blasts its way into my life; a full fledge force of heat and chemical explosion that just blinds me to nothing but that.

I just need that connection.

It’s more than a want now. It’s a passion. It’s a desire.

This hopeless heart tires easily but continues to beat slow and steady.

Many say that love comes when you are not looking for it.

Maybe I’m just always looking.

How does one stop? I go on living my life, doing the things that makes me feel alive, capturing life, and putting my thoughts into words. Life goes and I live it.

But I guess with my hopeful heart constantly yearning, I guess I am always looking. Therefore love will never come to me.

Should I just stop? All of these online avenues, are they right for me?

I dropped one and will continue with the other until it comes time for me to just stop.

It should be easier than this. It should be better than this.

Maybe I’m just doing things wrong.

Maybe I just lived my life wrong.

But there’s no guidebook for this. People just live the best they think they can, making the decisions that they make and just hope things get easier that these little choices are the ones that are the best fit for them at that moment, at that time in their life.

I lived my life that way. I believe I will always live it that way.

That’s the only way that I know how to live life.

* * *

Options.

Those that are in front of me and those that are up in the ether.

Just a constant search and search and some just work, some are forced, but it is a game that we all have to play.

Am I paying close enough attention to the ones that are in front of me?

What about the Onassis 5 that I catch from time to time. We’ll be passing ships, blowing our horns of acknowledgment and formalities. Hi! Then we’ll be off on our separate ways. Me in my meandering destination of fix it nation and her to her little box of work.

I don’t know much about her. I don’t talk to her much. She’s off in the awkward corner, the one I rarely visit. Out of sight out of mind.

Is it I’m thinking about her and latching on (if I am, which I’m not saying that I am) because it seems I am interpreting her actions as interest?

I just don’t know.

My gut has been wrong before, but it has also been right. I just don’t know.

Ha! Life is a series of unknowns. That’s an understatement.

I guess it is our purpose to make these unknowns into knowns.

* * *

It’s like approaching 90s outside and I’m inside with a hoodie over my head.

There is definitely something wrong here.

* *

A new phase is starting. A new start. A new beginning.

I know now that my heart is not locked and is free to again.

A new start.

Maybe this is the change that I need. Maybe I’ll slowly entertain the thought of a new venue.

My life is officially free, in a flux of finding the right place.

Is this the start of it, the change that I have been feeling a need for?

Is it?

A new look. A new search. A new venue.

Entertaining thoughts of maybe a new city.

New.

Everything is new.

Change.

Thoughts?

Let’s just keep it as thoughts now.

We will see how I do, and what I choose.

No rush.

* * *

I can’t live without you baby, oh baby…

Maybe it is time that I stop listening to these sappy love songs that I love so much.

I’m such a cheese ball.

The highway don’t care…I actually don’t understand what that means.

Is it because the lover is leaving, going away and the highway don’t care about this dying relationship but I do, I do.

I think that makes sense. Maybe.

* * *

A new start. A new beginning.

Change is coming.

Change is here.

Life in flux.

Bring it.

Not sure what it means actually, but it is the literal translation of a song by Twins – the Hong Kong pop duo that I have grown apart from.

I think it is the song that is playing, but I am not so sure anymore. They have so many that sounds the same, but I’m going to keep it that way.

Today will be a day of exercise. It will just be a day of a finger tapping and nonsense shenanigans because I don’t really know what I want to write today.

I’m avoiding the script. I’m avoiding my short stories. I’m avoiding thinking about ideas for a new script. I’m avoiding editing and rewriting.

I’m avoiding many things.

As discussed, it just seems that I have a lot of things in my mind, which I will categorize as my midlife crisis. It’s an ugly one of listless loss.

But there is light. There’s always a light, no matter how dim.

There’s always a way out. It is just a matter of time. How long?

No idea.

* * *

Eyes up.

Long and inviting, daring me to stare. Taunting me, questioning my masculinity if I didn’t.

It teases with each move, a little longer a little deeper. The deep crevice of two opposing mounds tempts even the most pious man.

I fight the urge, but I give in like any man would.

It’s a well fought battle, but I lost before it even started.

* * *

The cold air blasts from high above.

So dense it falls quick, chilling everything below and deep.

I feel it in my bones. I feel it in my soul. The cold ice enshrouds my soul and my heart.

Iced up cold heartedness, that’s what I have become. Unable to feel anything but this deep chill. Unable to move to keep warm for I am frozen in this tundra of feelings.

The chill blasts. The ice hardens.

* * *

The air warms.

The air around me becomes comfortable, livable, melting me from this frost that I was before.

It warms the blood, keeping it flowing and me living. It keeps me alive, urging me to keep this warmth, to live and be.

But I can’t rely on others or my environment. I need to rely on me and my own resourcefulness. I need to keep myself warm, to keep myself alive with whatever methods that I can.

I need to keep moving. I need to keep trying to stay alive. I need to keep living and going on and eventually there will come a natural time when all things stop. I wait patiently for that, not rushing the inevitable, letting whatever life clock tick away at its own standard pace. Eventually will come, but now, life is demands a player to play its little games.

Can I survive?

I believe so.

* * *

Our love was destined. The moon represents my heart.

* * *

Clear. Things are clearer now. Things aren’t so foggy where I can’t see what the truth is anymore.

There are no more miscommunications that shroud my frustrations.

Things are clear.

There is nothing more.

That is all I need to know. Things are clear and there is nothing more.

I just have to move on now; to keep my distance and move on.

Hopefully one day we’ll be able to hang out again, to enjoy each other’s company in a different setting, a different heart. Here’s to hoping, but knowing me, I don’t know.

I never really hung out or kept in touch with many people that leave my life, especially those that I am interested in. They come. They go. Out of sight. Out of mind.

Whatever friendship that we have just fizzle into the ether of history only to resurface when one is forgotten.

I’ll miss this one. I’ll miss her.

* * *

Should I stop asking you out?

And that was all that was needed to get our dialogue done.

Uncomfortable. Nothing more than just hanging out as friends.

Nothing more.

I am uncomfortable with that. It’s not that it is making me uncomfortable, which you don’t. It is just that I’m confused and frustrated. But now I know.

It’s not a matter of being comfortable here on out. It isn’t. You never made me uncomfortable. Ever.

I just can’t hang out with you or see you anymore. I need my distance. I need my space. Time.

I need to get over you and that is the best remedy.

* * *

You knew that I liked you, more than a friend. You knew, and yet you still agreed to hang out. I know it was an assumption on your part, and a mistake on mine, and a general miscommunication across the board, so I forgive and forget.

It happens. Tis is life. Tis is the way that things like this happen.

I like how you did notice that I stopped talking to you for a while. I liked how you made reference to it, and I’m sure you know why I stopped; that Christmas break.

I guess my gut was right. It was a cop out. A way to hang out with me without hanging out with me.

But, tis is the way it is.

Time to move on.

Time to look forward and be open to someone else to fill that void that is slowly depleting not out of want but of necessity. I have to ’cause I’m going crazy.

I’m going crazy.

In a way my heart feels lighter. My brain feels freer, not having to figure out what it is that is happening, fighting the feelings in my heart or my gut.

I’m free.

* * *

Wednesday.

Last day.

Things will have to go on as usual. Us. Usual.

It shouldn’t be strained or awkward. It should be just us.

Let us end things on a good note.

* * *

Lesson learned: Stop fighting my gut feeling.

It tells me that it wasn’t what I hoped for, but I wanted to know for sure. The truth is I already knew, I was just in denial.

Maybe it is that I am too nice. Or maybe it is that I just wasn’t her type. Or maybe it is that she just doesn’t see me that way.

I don’t think I need to know. I don’t think I want to know, because I think maybe knowing the truth why, it’ll just upset me more.

I’ve been through this numerous times. I’ve been through this time and time again. It happens. It’s a broken record, skipping back and forth in different times in my life.

I always manage to get better. I always manage move on.

This one should be no different.

* * *

I don’t want to lose you now.

Letting go. Losing the strength to carry this thing through.

I finally see that dim light at the end of the tunnel. I just need that final catalyst that pushes everything to the finale that I know will come. I know that things will be cleared and the answer will surface.

Answers.

No.

Simple. Concrete.

Just no.

* * *

Falling into the comfort of things. Falling into our nature, our little moments of pitter and patter. Just falling and hoping that it will be eternal, a forever falling where there is no bottom, deeper and deeper where eventually in the end, that listless floating of desire and passion will devastate my soul whenever I reach bottom.

That is what it is like to be where I am. My little heart has a built in pitfall. It latches on. It never lets go.

But from my perspective, the bottom is coming up fast. I’m in for a world of pain.

Maybe it is something that it thrives on. Maybe it is something that it needs to get stronger. Maybe it is just something to make me feel something other than the thing I’m feeling.

Maybe.

* * *

Staring back at me

Maybe.

My life is full of maybes. There’s just so much that could go either way, which is not definite because it hasn’t been tried. It hasn’t been true.

It is just a future of possibilities that can go any way until there is a definite experience. Even then, there are still different outcomes if done again and again. maybes.

There are just a lot of maybes anywhere.

Maybe the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t the glimmer of hope that I am dreaming of but the glimmer of a fading light?

Maybe it’ll just be my faint green beacon that I find through the fog so I’m not lost as to what my envious desire is?

Maybe.

I don’t want to lose you now/ Show me how to fight for now

Maybe I just need to fight more?

But I think I know I just need to know when to fold my hand and take the loss. It is too much. I have wasted so much of my time.

To think if I had made a decision to act on this a lot sooner or even to clear things sooner or even if I was smart enough to heed the signs that was presented, I would have been in a different place than I am now.

Maybe it would be with someone else that I’m going through this crux with or maybe I’ll actually be with someone. Who know?

I just know that there needs to be a change.

This needs a change.

We need a change.

Change.

* * *

Continuing where I left off yesterday.

Mirrors blasting the familiar tunes and laments in my ears.

I don’t want to lose you now

It is just a matter mustering up the strength to get this job done. Once it is done, things will get easier. Once it is done, things will be better.

I need other things to occupy my mind. I need to focus on things outside the matters of the heart.

Traveling. Seeing the world that I know that is out there waiting for me to explore.

Adventures are just waiting for me. I just need to take the first step in the journey.

* * *

It’s Father’s Day today.

Of course you aren’t here and of course I miss you.

* * *

Time.

It’s a fickle bitch.

Floating away, keeping constant.

Beating life’s measure.

Never have enough

When one needs it

No control

When one needs to go back

* * *

It’s gloomy today. Actually it’s been gloomy for the past couple of days.

It has its moments. It has its charm that I do surely miss when it is the usual from around here.

But I don’t know; it has gotten me a little the usual lately. Whether it is because of what I am eating, maybe because I am at a familiar crux in my life, or maybe it is just the time of the month for me. I don’t know.

I’m sure it’ll pass like it usually does. I’m sure it’ll pay whatever respect that it needs to pay me and my heart and just skip along and I’ll be back to myself.

Maybe.

I don’t know. Maybe it is just my diet.

I have been eating out pretty much all week. Food that is beyond my control on what is in it. Sure I could have gone with healthier options, but they were more convenient and I’m a man of convenience.

But it’ll pass as I go on with my life, living it a day at a time, figuring it out a little bit as I go.

That is the story of my life.

* * *

You make me glow.

The story of us goes on like it usually does.

Each day goes by and I am in a wonder of what it is that is happening.

Words spread and opinions are gathered. The verdict is in and it doesn’t bode well for me.

Nothing. Nothing is what is happening.

We aren’t even dancing. I was just never in the game.

But I’ll try like I usually do. I’ll play it to the end like I always do, because that is me. I need closure. I need definite.

I need a sense of concreteness, that final solid solution of “No”.

* * *

We’re up all night to get lucky.

Change. A little more a little less. Change.

I’m making small adjustments here and there. Things that were a part of me that just never really got a chance to blossom because I never put the effort in.

Most of it is superficial; little aesthetic changes here and there in how I dress.

But the heart of the matter is still the same. I’m still the same person. I’m still the same man that I have grown up to be, flaws and all.

Whether these changes are just the natural progression of things because I need to make a change or if they are just some small fundamental changes that I needed to make to get me to the next phase in my life, I’m not sure. But in a way, it does feel right.

These changes in clothing and style don’t feel like they are forced. They are things that I aspire to wear or have some kind of desire to wear. They are a part of my general style to begin with. It was just a matter of finally paying attention to them.

They are me.

* * *

I will wait, I will wait for you.

I belong with you. You belong with me, in my sweet heart.

It so goes the theme for today’s little playlist.

The one that was meant for me. The one that is waiting for. The one that was destined.

Maybe.

I am the hopeless one. I am the one hoping and wishing. I am the romantic with the broken heart.

Here I wait.

* * *

Free

The Heart strings

No longer twisted and tied

Into the jumbled mess of yearning

Liberated from the tortures

Unrequited

Unreturned

Flowing with the motions of free will

To choose the one that returns

Unafraid to share the magical mysticism

Harmonized by the drumming and marching of a running heart

Free to beat

Liberated

To Love

* * *