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i find it difficult to believe that those that have never walked in these shoes could ever fully understand what this is like. but really...i think it would be impossible for you to not understand certain aspects. it's still strange for me to talk about this. there are very few people that seem to get it. a choice in itself. to get it...is to open one's being to that same vulnerability. perhaps i've been conditioned by the general reaction. there are ALWAYS undertones that this whole process was a choice. alas, to choose misery would be a madness. in some respects...it was a choice. the initial choice. the first time. but at that point...it would've been difficult to imagine the way things played out. yes...i was told a thousand times...by a thousand different people...this is wrong. there's no good that can come of it. but the full appreciation...the knowledge, wisdom...there is just no way to know that...until it's happened. i have been surrounded by people my entire life that refuse to see the person as anything other than the label. as in mental illness...the actual person is not seen. the label trumps all else. yes...it's a generalization...but the consistency of the sentiments is overwhelming. it's a choice. snap out of it. unfortunately...these people do not understand. this...thing...has robbed six years of my life from me. it's reduced me to tears on numerous occasions. it's added a neverending cycle of stress and anxiety to my life. it's robbed me of that youthful sense of vigor...my energy...my motivation to do many things that i once enjoyed. paralyzing. it is...and has been...the last thing i think about before i go to sleep. not in the sense that i need to indulge...but that i've been systematically destroying something i consider precious...and become very adept at driving the full implications of that away. life becomes a lesson in deceit. myself. my friends. decpetion is a friend...because it's the one thing that allows me to cling to a dissipating sense of self-respect. there is no control. the addiction fuels habits. life becomes a means to satisfy that hunger. and the sad truth...is that the 'help' that exists is horrendously out of touch with what has actually happened. if it were truly 'in touch'...the numbers would provide a staggering solution. yes...some people give it up...and lead genuinely happy existences...but they are by far the minority. there are many that have come and gone through my social radar...and there has only been one that has successfully ended this cycle...permanently. one. it's shocking. can you imagine the misery of still possessing the desire...but refraining. one's life would become consumed by that desire. the entire existence becomes about that moment when the need can finally be satiated. this is not a solution. it's misery. and it's real. i reflect on how well we mask our true feelings. i can't help but assume that these 'happy' ex-abusers are skilled in the same art. there are definitely exceptions...i realize.

 

one could ask...why didn't you just stop. it's not a question of weakness. i possess a certain strengh that permeates ALL other aspects of my life. it's a lack of tools. i'm amazed that this conclusion didn't dawn on me sooner. it's really a question of perspective. it's a shift in the reality. that old familiar mental filter...the cognitive trick that keeps so many trapped in a prison of twisted expectations...it's the same. there is no difference.

 

so...just stop. amazingly...that IS the solution. but there is no way for that to happen until the roadblocks have been removed. there has to be some kind of comprehension. there has to be acceptance and acknowledgement. and it's not just one or two little beliefs. it's all of them. one misguided belief...and sadly...the hook remains set...waiting to take hold again. i feel a genuine sense of profound sadness when i've been witness to this. it somehow reinforces the idea that the trap has no exit. it exists to keep one trapped...that is it's nature. so many times...i've been witness to the crushing, demoralizing, dehumanizing trauma that is addiction. it's not a vice. it's not a habit. it's an addiction. and the cumulative lives ruined by this disease far exceed every other killer. strong, intelligent, decent human beings. all walks of life. we do not choose. by all accounts...if we were to go back with the knowledge we have now...surely the temptation would never lead us down it's perilous road. but the knowledge...when it becomes belief...it IS the way out. there is a solution. there really is nothing to give up. there is a choice...because it's the choice we were originally faced with...free of the taints of the mind. free of the trap that has kept us so thoroughly enthralled. there is liberation to be had.

 

we've all been trapped. we all know that feeling. as with all other things...the broken records have never helped. if they had...we'd never have come to this point. so thoroughly dejected. so completely broken by something so simple. left to walk in the shadows of our own inner turmoil. it's a hellish kind of misery that we would not wish upon even our closest enemy. we ask for your understanding. your respect. because sadly...our own is desperately lacking. we're stuck. we have no idea how to get out. if we didn't find it morally objectionable...we would implore those of you that doubt our conviction to stumble down this path. walk a day in our tired old shoes and know it for yourself.

 

it doesn't matter what this 'thing' is. it's the same story. wherever you come from...whatever roads you've been down...we understand. we know your misery. we know your pain. we know the ways in which you habitually stumble. we know your 'weakness'...and we know your strength. this is why we are here. so come forth...step out of the shadows. reclaim that which you feel has been taken. find joy in the simple elation of life. there is nothing else. without it you have nothing. and with it...you have everything.

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dear 'friend'...

 

i'd like to take several moments to enlighten you on the life that i once lead. it was a perpetual state of being lost in a haze. there was a constant sense of unease while we were together. sometimes i reflect on the illusion of sanity that kept us together for so long. as i look back...our relationship was tragically flawed from the beginning. sure...you were there for me at the lowest points. through thick and thin...through the natural traumas of life. but were you ever the shoulder to cry on? did you ever give back? was this love affair one based upon the foundation of reciprocation? i don't blame you. only know that there is no love lost. none. i don't miss you...because the tradegy of our affliction has become so blatantly obvious. there always was...and is...nothing to miss.

 

you were a poison. at times literally suffocating the life within me. your need to be satisfied kept me in a state of self-loathing. i came to know a feeling of utter dependence. although i am loathe to admit this...my life became centralized on keeping your persistance at bay. the 'adventures' we shared...were not ones of mutual enjoyment; however, with effort...i came to believe this to be the case. most notably...the false sense of joy i experienced while on the road...this was the most difficult to transcend. it felt like we were companions.. comrades...brothers in arms. it was a war...but we were never on the same side. you'd have left me to die with all the others. i know this to be true.

 

you robbed me of my composure. naively...i walked with open arms into the trap you'd so carefully laid before me. my conviction became your conviction. my ambtion...your ambition. my hope...your hope. with your help...i was lulled into an existence of misery. your pain became my own. within...there was a part of my being that embraced that pain...made it my own. confused by my apparent weakness...i continued to allow you to drag me down. deception was always at your core. conceptually...the idea of openness was always a farce while we shared our time. my vulnerability was never something you could appreciate; although, i know you understood it well...because it was your greatest ally.

 

today...i know your secret. exposed...alone in your pursuit of anguish. for so long...i felt as a leper. this was your gift. and for that...you have my healthiest respect. to have kept me so completely enthralled...this was your greatest achievement. i do not doubt the skill you possess with your tools...but ironically...this was your ultimate downfall. ever apparent to me your ways will be. there is nowhere for you to hide. your existence has no place in my heart.

 

it's only now...after exhausting every avenue in a desperate pursuit of your defense...that the music of these words rings true. you are foul...utterly foul. and believe me...there was an ache akin to starvation that pleaded with me to discover an alternative to that melody. but the score was written long ago.

 

i cry now...but these tears are not for you. this is my strength. from the shadows, my convictions have returned. where envy once perched...there sits an ally. when i see you in the shadows...have no fear. your strength has become my strength.

 

surely...our paths will cross again. but never forget...i know your essence. i know your deceit. i know of the poison you preach as salvation. but my salvation will never be yours. my path is my own. i go in peace.

 

farewell.

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  • 1 month later...

you're angry.

i've upset you.

it was inappropriate.

i am accountable.

 

and such scathing remarks.

pierced...truly.

i was reactive.

restraint.

 

truth i spoke...

and you know of that truth.

wound of your desire.

was it worth it?

 

victim is the fool who pays homage to this non-self...

but victim is such as one would expect.

noone's fool are you...

you who are but foolish of a whim.

 

beauty lends itself to betrayal...

and betrayal gives way to pain...

pain is the body within...

and within belies the nature of deceit.

 

reaction is not your essence.

pain is not your preferred outlet.

besieged by the foes of your past...

you cling to your false prophets.

 

so...be kind in turn.

kindness to that which deals in carnage.

mock the face of scorn...

and be free of your shackles.

 

in this...we shall aspire...

always...and maybe forever.

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it was the lizard. ha...i get it now. well...actually...i think i got it the first time around...but chose to ignore the implications. no substitute for experience.

 

the funny thing is...i was convinced it would be different this time. so convinced...actually felt that it would be different. and...it was...but not in the way that i expected. as far as expectations go...it was the same. identical. there was literally nothing different.

 

but...

 

this is where it gets strange. the feeling is the same. in terms of intensity...there's consistency. and if we're considering the sensation...well, that's the same too. but there is something distinctly different. does it have a name? form? shape? substance? maybe it does. could it be...attachment...or rather...detachment. good question. seems logical. can logic define this though?

 

catgroove...

 

so...wondering if i've misrepresented the feeling. i gave it form...i gave it life...and THAT is what it became. if the feeling is the same...then why the apparent difference experientially? if it's essentially the same in what it is...in where it's coming from...then why the disparity the effect it's had on me? is this what it's like to feel it and let it go...as opposed to just feeling it, and storing it away for some future feeling...because, well...it feels so fantastic? how ridiculous is that?

 

feelings are reactions to thoughts. thoughts are reactions to situations. situations are entirely neutral. thoughts categorize and define situations with labels. feelings are reactions to the labels. some labels are old...so of course...they feel real...right...just. so...does this mean that the labels have changed? or...is it the notion of attachment again? a label...without the attachment...ceases to hold power. without attachment...there's no need to defend. there's no need to condemn. there's no need to react at all.

 

forgiveness is possible without the expectation of it being reciprocated. in fact...i think it's essential for that to be the case.

 

and what about motives? isn't it possible that when i'm wrong...there's a part of me that knows it...but there's another part that will try desperately to flee that feeling. and better still...that part that flees...is also seeking to justify the wrongness...to somehow validate it...to find rightness. of course...so often it's impossible. sometimes accountability is the only option. so...what about when it's not the only option. what about the instances where it boils down to a choice...and the easy choice is to find right in my own wrongness, and thereby find wrongness in the other's rightness. and how easily do i go along with it? what if it's become a habit? this would certainly explain so much conflict in our world. one could argue that in some cases right and wrong are clearly defined absolutes. but...does this mean that they're absolutes for all of us? pause. reflect.

 

if my own absolutes are governed by my experience...would it not hold true that another's absolutes easily differ due to the obvious difference in experience? an extreme difference in experience would thereby translate to a corresponding extreme in the absolute department. so...what is an absolute...but an illusion from which we draw strength. to find comfort in reality.

 

anyway...it doesn't matter now, but to me. there was wrongness. so...i aspire to remain unseen....to remove myself as a contributor to the collective wrongness that surrounds you...and those others around me. i aspire to watch for 'the lizard'...and know it...and be gentle in that knowledge. and also...to be gentle in the knowledge of my own. may those that know this path find this wisdom.

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  • 3 weeks later...

the idea of happiness without those things which i've been conditioned to believe will bring me happiness is inconceivable...therefore, i choose to pursue the conceivable to the detriment of my happiness.

 

 

 

learn to imagine...and learn to conceive.

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  • 3 weeks later...

all the things that i needed...

wasted my chances.

i have found myself wanting.

when my mother and father gave me their problems...

i accepted them all.

nothing ever expected...

i was rejected.

but i came back for more.

 

and my ashes drift beneath the silver sky...

where a boy rides on a bike but never smiles.

and my ashes fall on all the things we said...

on a box of photographs under the bed.

 

i will stay in my own world...

under the covers.

i will feel safe and sound.

a kiss that will burn me...

and cure me of dreaming.

i was always returning.

 

and my ashes find a way beyond the fog...

and return to save the child that i forgot.

and my ashes fade among all the things unseen...

and a dream plays in reverse on piano keys.

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  • 2 weeks later...

an excerpt from a note on pistachios:

 

"pistachios are available year-round and can be bought at health food stores, supermakerts, and natural food retailers. if you're purchasing them from a bulk food bin, make sure the bin is covered and that the store has good product turnover. if you're buying shelled nuts, inspect them for moisture or insect damage and avoid nuts that appear shrivelled."

 

duly noted.

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  • 2 weeks later...

seven...

 

i was there...and then i wasn't there. and then i was somewhere else completely...but looking at the place where i'd been. and then it was on tv. and then it was outside. and then it was on tv again. and then...there was a game of soccer. shirts vs. skins. i don't think they were oblvious...but they chose not to engage.

 

so...this was the 35th. and that...was very odd. i've always wondered about these buildings.

 

and here...there was much disillusionment. a bit of sadness. but there was also good food...some drinks...and some friendly touches which have a way of lighting one's imagination on fire. but onwards...ever onwards.

 

i don't recall the name of the restaraunt. but there was a man...and his brother. and there was his brother's friend. and...there was also this man's ex girlfriend of long ago...and that ex girlfriend's step brother (sort of). and also...there was a friend of this sort-of step brother's as well. and they called him ginger...but his hair was not red. the brother's friend...oh she was a delight. so engaging. so personable. a little insane...but a delight all the same. and she was very affectionate with ginger. ''ginja'' is actually how it came out. and there were many...many drinks. wine to start. and the food! so much food. and all fantastic. rich. and then there was dessert...oh yes. espresso and grand marnier...and this is where the man's ex girlfriend of long ago began to change the tune of her song. interesting. and she very much enjoyed the company of the brother's friends. what about the olives? yes. one...two...three of them now...and martinis? where did the martini's come from?

 

a turn. two turns. the streets are surreal. subdued...but alive. the air burns the nostrils. there's no anger here...but there's an unidentifiable energy in the air...and it's disconcerting.

 

but now we've come to 'the wall'. and up...up up. and up. this one is 45...and yet another perspective. the lights are intoxicating...and made doubly so by one's intoxication. there's a bed...and a wall of glass...and the lighs...so many lights. and now ginja is in the bed. music fills the room. and the ex girlfriend of the man of long ago is there...and she's reminiscing...remember when she was here last. because this used to be her home, this wall of glass. she was alone...so alone. and this was her comfort. it reminds her of a childhood. and here...in this moment...she is heard. she's here.. completely here. and with everything in this moment that speaks to strangeness...the moment itself is not strange at all.

 

but the moment passes...as all moments do. and now the brother's friend is back. but she's not really here. she's gone somewhere else...and will likely not be back for the remainder of the evening. but it is of no consequence. because the wall is mesmerizing.

 

it was just a dream...

 

 

just a dream...

 

 

romance.

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i like your voice mr. rule #6. you have a narrator's voice...like morgan freeman almost. and it's your voice i hear when the words are spoken in my thoughts. there's something in the energy of those waves that i find soothing.

 

congratulations. you made the wall.

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I've been lurking here, too. Just so ya know.

 

I feel hesitant to post when I'm not sure if I fully grasp the nature of the content. It seems so deeply private and almost...secretive. I would even say cryptic. Very intriguing and yes, poetic, agreed with Silverbirch. I feel it'd be presumptuous to issue comments about thoughts that feel quite free-form.

 

It just makes me feel more contemplative than like posting. But I'm reading, nonetheless.

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Same here....was not wanting to interrupt the stream of consciousness.................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

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Me 4! I lurk in the night watching the stars.....good thing it's 90's journal or that would be just weird! haha Seriously, I do enjoy your journal 90.

 

One thing I love about 90 is that it's totally safe being weird with him. I mean, "weird" as in....just...out there.

 

 

 

You don't get that freedom with many people.

 

okay...i'll admit i'm a bit intoxicated at the moment...but i feel really warm with these comments. really. so thank you. sometimes i question my judgement...but for now...i'm just gonna go with it. i'm not sure what it means to be weird...and to inspire that sense of comfort in others. but...i think alcohol has a way of intensifying my appreciation for such things. case and point...mandy from vancouver. see journal entry beginning 'seven' for further info...albeit ambiguous info.

 

if for even a fleeting moment i'm able to inspire a sense of freedom in another human being...then i have lived a life of excess.

 

please...call me sleepy.

 

 

 

and for what it's worth...i'll offer something completely straight-forward...that requires little in the way of imagination -- although imagination goes a long way in some cases... as it's been said.

 

today...while driving home from work...i was frought with desire!! FRAUGHT!!! what a strange word that is. can't recall ever using it to be honest. but...yes...fraught with desire. although now i'm questioning if fraught is indeed the right word...or if perhaps i've just latched onto to it because it feels exciting. it matters not. desire. that's the true object of attention. i had a vision. a bit foggy to be sure...but a vision nonetheless. a P.I.C...partner in crime...a woman!! ha. god it's been a long time since i lived with someone...or even cared to consider the notion. but today...maybe with summer's kiss on my cheek...and a few beers with an old friend...something stirred in my depths. i wanted. just...warmth. a body to come home to. it's the only thing i've ever missed about any relationship. contact. so simple. but that's it. and strangely enough...they're all measured against the one woman i lived with. as much as her face is an illusion to me...she's still influencial in my thoughts at times.

 

i'm glad this doesn't hurt anymore. because now...reflection is ephemeral...with everything else. i love. there is so much here...and i love it. i...love. can i ever express my gratitude? there was a moment i'm sure...where everything stopped. and in that moment...everything was known. everything. it's not hyperbole...just everything. just...everything. because it is both nothing and everything all at once.

 

but without that moment...i wouldn't love. i wouldnt' be here. i wouldn't love.

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Not sure if Elcie means Nirvana - Kurt Cobain - or the hindu state of Nirvana - the state of blowing out of greed, hatred and delusion. It's meant to be a spiritual thing.

 

lol...

 

but the band route is more fun.

 

actually remember thinking about nirvana the band when i first read about nirvana the 'place' (state of being). to me...it's always meant the end of suffering. stranger still...it changed the music for me when i saw it that way. a whole new element...

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Yes.... I meant Nirvana the Buddhist state of being.

 

Your writing, sleepy, gives me a sense of what that would be like!... Hey, that's enough flattery for now!!

 

....but I agree, the band route is more fun!

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