Broken Pieces (Journal Entry)

I can’t tell if it’s me that is broken or if it’s the world that is broken or if my head is stuck in a box. Or maybe the box is all in my head and I can’t escape because the box makes more sense than the world.

Or maybe we’re all just a bunch of broken pieces scattered in a melee of confusion, trying to connect, yearning to transform into an enchanted castle on a hill, fortified with wisdom and built with enduring love.

I Will Fight (Journal Entry)

It’s so weird to be alive. I wake up, eat, shower, get dressed, check up on the happenings of this strange world, run errands, eat, sleep, dream and wake up. The days meld together. Weeks turn into months. As I drift into the future the past seems more like a dream.

I try to make sense of it all, try to live each day unto itself. I try to dig a little deeper, try to better myself. I try to strengthen my spirit and lend a helping hand. Be a friend to my neighbor, and be grateful for what I have.

Heartache and Time (Journal Entry)

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck between a dump truck and a cliff. As the days go by the harder it is to look back. But moving forward feels so empty, a void that can neither be filled nor emptied. The upside down of the right side wrong. The further I walk the more I’ve lost.

And as I lose the self that won’t come back to me. I detach from the life that meant so much to me. I can’t remember the good or the bad. It’s like I jumped out a wormhole and forgot what just happened.

The Lions and the Lambs (Journal Entry)

There’s a knot in my gut the size of my fist. I try to ignore it but it cries out like a mother bird in distress. Much like the premonitions that warned me against the crooked path I doomed myself to take. Seems the hell I’ve known is mercy compared to the hell that is to come.

The whole world is a human centipede. Battered sheep yearning for deliverance from their cold-hearted shepherd. I often wonder what mindblowing epiphany will compel the sheep to shed their wool and become lions treading through the fields of rebellion. It’s not enough for the sheep to know their shepherd is up to no good. They need to want to flee from his care. Herein lie the wall that won’t crack…

A Letter to My Evil Alter (Journal Entry)

Dearest Mean Mean Maria Jean,

We’ve been through many tough times together, and you’ve always been there to stick it to anybody who tried to hurt me. You’ve made me laugh, cry, gag, cough, sneeze and damn near crap my pants all at the same time, and for that I am grateful. 

However, the time has come for me to let go of all my anger and resentments. I can no longer partake in pity-parties and mud-slinging contests with you. Although the things you say are funny, certain people might misconstrue some of the mean and hurtful things you say and do as childish and lacking in self-awareness. 

Pondering the Matrix (Journal Entry)

I was born to be invisible. Like the stump of a sofa that gets tripped into and cursed then forgotten once again. I always wondered what it would be like to have loving, doting parents. Would I have grown to be such a loser?

Sometimes I wish I was anybody but me. Then I look at everybody else and wish I were just plain dead. Because if I were the happy type, I’d be oblivious to the world that enslaves me in a bubble where my greatest defense against reality is to push the ‘block’ button. And if I were born with a silver spoon I’d be as rotten as a carcass.

The Miracle (Journal Entry)

If I had a million dollars I could finally set me free. I would have the independence I never thought I’d see. I would wake up every day without a worry on my mind as I accomplished all those little things I often toss aside.

Super Nova (Journal Entry)

Guilt, shame, blame. I go through the motions then go back to bed. I can’t turn back and I can’t move forward. This pain in my gut is boiling over.

Fool me once shame on you. Fool me a thousand times and I lost my point of view. How many times can I endure your love? The bane of my existence is my surrender to your…

I… Can’t… Breathe when I think of all the times you shat upon my heart. Maybe this time it sounds a lot better but what is better what all you know is hurt? And I hate the way I feel most times. No words can fill that cup. I drink then I get drunk then I plant face into the dirt.

Id, Ego & Superego (Journal Entry)

Here I go again. My id got the best of me. I run from my life til I can’t get away then it’s back to the same old drunken charade. I don’t know how I got here. Or at least that’s what I like to say. I know exactly how I got here. My I can’t admit my blame.