it is finished

trip planning part 1: Put my crap in bags
trip planning part 2: Put bags in car
trip planning part 3: Pray, pray, pray that many long hours in the car alone with my sister does not drive me absolutely insane.

Driving up the east coast from Florida to Maine with my sister is going to be an interesting time. It's not that we don't get along, we do, but if we don't kill each other by the end of the trip it will soley be by the grace of God. We used to do this thing as a family years ago. Mom and Dad would take turns driving while Stephanie and I would be in the back of our Chevy Cavalier station wagon, seat folded down, playing. The parents would spread an egg crate matress over the back and we could sleep, play, or whatever else came into our small little heads. They would be up front driving on and off, no stopping anywhere for this train, straight shot from Orlando to Centerport, Long Island. A trip of approximately 24 hours.

The memories of years of cross country family travels bring a warm smile to my face... sometimes. Of course being small children the smallest slight by one or the other could erupt into fights of mythic proportions. So what was the elders solution to this, and here is where I think some of my personal problems come from, they doped us up. That is correct, they would give us dramamine to make us sleep. Instead of constructively dealing with issues they resorted to drugs. Ah the memories associated with that... "NO! I don't want to take the bye-bye medicine!" Oh how I fought its soothing effects. As the neural transmitters in my brain were blocked and synaptic activity slowed I fought, with all the remaining strength I had, I fought. I distinctly remember a time sitting in the front seat with my eyes held open staring into the dark of night before us using every ounce of my being to be stronger than the drugs. I prevailed. Mind over matter. I conquered the beast. However, when daylight came I crashed for about 14 hours.

Last year I did this with my dad and we straight shot from Gainesville to Dover, NH in just over 21 hours. It was some of the most impressive marathon driving I've been involved in. We'll see how this year pans out. There are some family stops on the way so that'll slow us down considerably, but it'll be nice to get free food and beds.

only 5 days...

water dripping on my forehead and I can't taste it. That's what it is like.

She called from a public phone last night with a line of people behind her waiting for their turn. I hadn't heard her voice for going on 4 days and all I got was 10 minutes.

it was the shortest 10 minutes of my life.

ok, I'll admit that I may be obssesivly single minded right now. But since I have nothing better to think about what is there left to do. My job is not intellectually challenging, I just sit and answer the phone all day, and nothing interesting is going on at home. So where does that leave me? With a lot of free time to dwell on her.

but that soon will change
every second that passes brings her closer
could this time pass any slower
knowing I'll see her come next wednesday
yet it seemes like a world away

if you didn't get that last little bit it's ok, maybe you'll figure it out.

It's funny, or perhaps sad, how life comes to a screaching halt when the microwave dies (notice the smooth transition away from vulnerabilty). As I stood in front of the blank black panel in front of me, its face unresponsive to my touch, it made me realize how dependent I am. I need what I need right when I need it. The microwave is the physical vestment of my desire for instant gratification. It's death shatters my dreams of living in the perfect world (some dreams, eh?).

Well, that was particularly pointless so yeah...

She. Her. Girl. Mine.

I can’t get her out of my mind. As clichéd as that is, it is the truth. And it is killing me

The reaction is always the same:

Person: “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”
Me: “Yeah, she lives in Maine.”
Person: “For real?”
Me: “Yeah”
Person: “Oh… I’m sorry.”

I have gone for almost three months without seeing her. That is more than one should be allowed to bear.

It hasn’t always been this bad. I have this innate ability to catalogue and prioritize all the crazy things floating around in my head. This means that for the most part I have relegated the long distance relationship to the back of the pack. Not her, just the fact that the distance is there. I look at it as just a natural part of this relationship. It’s as natural as my overly critical view of myself sometimes. That’s just the way it is.

Until a month and a half ago that is.

This little worm of a thought entered my mind and whispered sweet sounding syllables to me. “It’s not that long till you can see her again. There’s more time behind you that ahead.” The damage was done. The frustration began to build. Frustration that took for itself two forms, one in the physical and one in the mental. Mental frustration arising from knowing that I cannot have what I desire. Physical frustration that stemmed from this and also from the fact that I live in a culture that is filled with images and words that show the beautiful people being beautiful together. TV, movies, books, newspaper, even real life for crying out loud all paint this picture. The chemicals in my brain have conspired to mutiny. I am no longer in control. When I close my eyes I see her. I have phantom feelings of her holding me, kissing me. I can smell her, taste the air around her. The dreams of her have returned. Thoughts are interrupted. Incoherent.

I am incapable of stopping it. The incessancy of it all is more than I can handle.

I ache to the depths. Relief is only found in her arms.

I have my own desk for a week. In the latest, and fortunately last, installment in my temp job career I am sitting behind a beautiful reddish oak desk. Not just a single desk, no this is a corner desk...in a corporate office. The only down side is that it is just inside the entry way. Yeah, that's right, another front line secretarial job. But in this case it is not so bad, we don't have any walk-in customers here at "Hospital Housekeeping Systems". No, this is a corporate office and only people who know the place come here. Heck, I don't even have to be polite on the telephone. "HHS, this is Graham" That's it. No, 'Good _____ (fill in time of day)' or 'Thank you for calling...' or 'Hello' even. Nope, I don't have to be cordial. It's great. Plus it's only part time. Well, that has its ups and its downs. Up, I don't have to work very long. Down, I don't get that many hours to get paid for. So for this week I get to sit here and type on the computer and scribble down lyrics and ideas and the like.
_____________________________
it's only eight days till I see her

Don't you just hate it (for those who do this blog thing) when you type something up and post but don't really read it over and then check it later to find a glaringly poor example of grammar or some left out word that makes you look like an idiot or perhaps just one long run on sentence that starts to lose all meaning towards the end and you are just left dangling with your metaphorical pants around your ankles.

_{Today I cried.}

I was alone in a crowd of hundreds. The hot tears flowed down my cheeks this morning and I couldn't stop them. I was broken this morning. And it all started by my jamming before church. Well, I guess it really started the night before when I had a friend decided to keep me accountable to certain things. My life, therefore, was turned inside out and made easier to see how far I've really fallen. Thoughts and dreams haunting me in the night and I cannot sleep well, yet I wake up early the next morning. After I finished getting ready for church I had time to spare, which never happens. The split second decision to chose either to read a classic or play the guitar ended up with me woshiping like I have not done in quite a while. The Lord opened up something and the words came pouring out:

Jesus, you're my Wonderful Savior
Jesus, you're my Wonderful Savior

When I'm tired
When I'm weak
When I fall
And am incomplete

And I am crying out to you
My heart is frozen, Lord, to you
I need your breath to awaken me
Give me strength to fall to my knees
Your cleansing touch frees my soul to sing
This praise to you, Lord, my offering
Your Glory deserves more than I can bring
Your Holiness demands my everything
The cross it bears my sin from me
Your arms, they hold amazing love to me
I cannot express the feeling of my soul
The joy when it looks into the face of love
My lips drip with the praise of my Savior King
Your Spirit holy fire consumes my being

Then I went to church... From song one to the end it was either tears or choking on the words and it was the sweetest thing. I tend to be the stalwart one. The immovable rock. Things do not shake me, do not affect me. I've had enough of that. I plan to spend a large chunk of time tomorrow trying to find myself back to where I'm supposed to be. "From down here it's all distorted / flowing blues and greens / should I hold my breath and wait / or take a chance at finding out / what's on the other side" Something's broken and I hope to never fix it. Can I be as resolute in being as in speech? We'll find out I guess.

Well, the computer thing really didn't work out. Not that anyone really cared. I just frustrated me and gave me about 2 hours less sleep before the CPR class. Thankfully, though, that class was so much easier than last time I took it. We ended two hours early and I didn't miss a single question on the exam. So YES I can save you for another year. And all it took was 48 bucks out of my ever shrinking wallet.

So I just had a major brain fart and can no longer think of anything interesting to write. Am I ever interesting at all? I can't really say. I'm going to stop now

So I'm really not that smart. I have to be in St. Pete at 9am tomorrow, at least 45min away, for a CPR for the Professional Rescuer class and I am sitting here typing on this infernal machine. Why do I think it's infernal? Well, for starters it's sound card sucks royally. I've been trying to lay down some song ideas on my mom's computer, only because it's down away from everyone so I can make as much noise as I want for all hours of the night, but all I get is static. I have half a mind to just set my computer up, but I know that she would not care for that one bit. I have to keep all my crap in order or mom gets a little testy. Me screwing with things just gives me more headaches. So here I am with great ideas in my head that will probably not be there in the morning. My magnum opus, beethovan's fifth to my rocknroll soul, is right now probably half way down the brain making it's way out my anus. Ok, I've made my mind up, I deal with the talk later. For now it is time to rock.

I've been asked by my friend Josh Doody to critique his songs. This is a real honor because he has given me full opportunity to be truthful. Being a songwriter myself I know how personal songs can be and telling someone to be blatently honest can open the door to criticism you just don't want. I know, for myself personally, all I want to hear is how good my songs are. Being my own worst enemy I usually kill most songs before anyone else can here them, so when I play a song for someone I have put my all into in and to hear that it was "ok" can just kill. Well, enough of me, you guys get enough of that on this page.

I've been listening to five tracks for awhile now trying to get a feel of Josh's style and groove. As far as style goes (and here I'm cheating because I know him personally) he is highly influenced by acoustic acts like The Dave Matthews Band, John Mayer, and Bebo Norman. His groove however is much harder to pin down. Josh has only recently started writing and recording his musings on life. As such, though all the songs are acoustic, they all have their own unique voice. My personal favorite is 'It's Not What I Need'. While this song is not the most intricate, nor the simplest, I find that the lyrics are the most personal. Because of this there is an urgency in his voice that doesn't surface in the two other vocal tracks. The praise song like cry of "I need your love" stirs something in me that agrees whole heartedly. 'Letting Go' is a pretty catchy little tune. The guitar work is not that difficult, actually it's rather repetative. But this is ok because the lyrics never really repeat. The hook seems to be "you'll never change a thing / just follow this ring to the end of your life." It sounds like something you've thought before but can't say why. It holds the song together well. Though I must say that my favorite line is "And when hope has left your eyes / Everything's coated in little white lies". I tend to like the darker more introverted lyrics and that just hits the spot nicely. Just like a frosty brew on a smoke filled porch. Or for those underage I would have to say it's like IBC Cream Soda on a hot summer's day. As a complete 180 to 'Letting Go', though being a bit dark sounds upbeat in some spots, 'Monotony' is dark through and through. Both the lyrics and the guitar work never you up. They draw you down into yourself to see things that you probably would rather keep hidden. It is something that must be experienced, you really can't describe it. The other two tracks are instrumentals. 'Jazz Lick' and 'Happy Times' show Josh's ability to do great finger work. While 'Happy Times does sound strangly similar to DMB it still does not fail to make my hand hurt just listening to it. 'Jazz Lick' I believe is a misnomer because it sounds more like a bluesy riff than a jazz riff, but I still enjoy it thoroughly. The harmonics that he does amaze me. Josh has explained to me how he did it, but it still never ceases to amaze me.

Overall you can see a progression as Josh finds his sound. His songs become more coherent, more complex, in music and lyrics. I'm really looking forward to living with him next year. The sounding board of another songwriter I believe will sharpen moth our skills.

That's the end of that review. Well, I've never done a music review before so it probably sucks, but really when it comes down to it who's opinion matters, your's or mine?

finally!
I just spent the past two or more hours working on this template update. I hope you guys read the archives cause they were a friggen pain in the butt. enjoi.

Ah, it feels good to be back to normal. 12:30am and I have no plans on bed for a while. No reason to get up in the morning. Makes me feel like I'm back at school. To bad no one is here to enjoy it with me. Can't finish full thoughts. must try later. ah.

It's my last day at work. Temp job number one is officially flushing its metaphorical self down the toilet. It makes me sad for some reason. I think it's mostly the paycheck. It hasn't been that bad working as a leasing agent, but I really don't see how people do this for a living. Two of my coworkers are in the next room griping about the management and how this place is going to fall apart in the next few years. It's rather humorous because they both just started working here, one within the past week.

I really hope that I never become like that. I want to be different. I want to be creative. I don't want to fall into the routine of being a responsible adult. That doesn't mean I don't want to be responsible. I want to be able to support myself and any future family that I may have, but I don't want to be the man who goes to the office at 7am and gets home at 5pm only to eat dinner and then veg in front of the tv. Is it really too much to ask to be a rock star? Ok, not even a star, just to play the music. I find myself dreaming about such things but then I start second guessing myself. I am my own worst enemy. I can paralyze myself in an instant. People say encouraging things about my music, but I shrug it off most of the time being too shy to really believe them. Then the questions pop up, how do I want to express the music? Do I want to just be a straight up rock band touring the club scene? Will the music be more outright in faith, perhaps even worshipful? Or do I be a full time worship leader? I don't know. Just some of the many questions floating around in my too large imagination.

who knows. I guess it's not so bad that one of my soon to be roommates is going through the same problems. moral support!

I wonder, do I have a central symbol to my life? What would it be?

Questions inspired by 'a river runs through it'. they had the river, a wide montana river running through a valley long cut and smoothed by the incessant flowing of its waters. where nirvana-like bliss is found at the end of a fly rod and men become living art. what do i have? what is that one certainty that i come back to when everything else is spinning out of control? i sure pray that it's not this thing and while the guitar is semi exotic it is not as poetic, not as transendent. what is larger than i that can be that my symbol?

I don't know why I do it. It seems harmless at first, but then upon further consumption it's effects can be hazardous. Why I was allowed to continue I will never be able to tell.

Now before everyone's minds start flying around all over the place let me assure you, this addiction, no not that far out, this... strong liking is of nothing so offensive as drugs. Though it's matter is often times more potent. That matter being love. The medium being the romantic comedy.

It's ok to shoot first and then ask questions. I understand the desire. But for some strange, odd reason I find myself drawn to them. Not as a first time in the theatre sort of way, but more like a library rental or something along those lines. It doesn't make much sense even to myself. The plot is thin at best. The acting, often times trite and overplayed. Yet I enjoy the experience.

and this all when i don't have a girl to lay close with on the couch, the only position that should be allowed while watching said movies.

doesn't julia ormond look a lot like kate beckinsdale? or is it the other way around?

So that being said, I watched Serendipity this evening with my sister and two of her friends. Perhaps it was because I had just hung up the phone with becky and was aching for something to ease the pain. Find satisfaction in the successful tale of another's love, if that's what you wish to call it. The movie had the typical plot: boy meets girl, find special connection, lose each other..... years pass, both are engaged but have the nagging sense that this isn't right, both try to find each other but like strangers in the night pass right by each other without knowing it, both marriages are called off, both resign to fact that they have lost all, and lo and behold in the last 2 minutes of the film find each other, final scene a year or so later celebrating anniversary. Awwwwwwww. I know, it brings a tear to the eye. The performances were not bad, john cusack playing the same character I have seen in other movies, and kate beckinsdale being just as hot, if not more so, than in pearl harbor. There's just something about an accent that can turn you on, well me at least.

so I really just realized how pathetic my life really is, don't be offended by it please, it was a slow day.

one last thought: the music playing over the rolling credits on romantic comedies is meant to be mood music for making out, so where the heck was my date tonight?

blogger fodder: (noun) 1.something interesting that happens in one's life which is out of the ordinary; 2.smooth jazz played incessantly for hours on end without earplugs in sight.

I hate smooth jazz. This is not something new. I have always hated smooth jazz. But I never thought that it could so profoundly affect my life the way that it has.

Today was my first day at work. The hell week of vacation is over. What the heck is that all about? Me, the ever lazy one, hating the fact that I don't have anything to do. When I do have stuff do do I don't do it and when I don't have stuff to do I look for ways to do things. Hmm, sounds like a vaguely familiar argument. You know what I'm talking about.

Today was my first day at work. I got the job through a temp agency, which is an interesting feeling. Me, the college student, using a temp agency. But such are the steps one must take to find a job for a short period of time. That was actually a harder thing than I thought it would be. I had resigned myself to the fact that the upscale agencies that I had interviewed with were not going to work out and I was going to have to apply with the troglodytes of society and work with Able Body. Maybe it was the lowering of my pride, maybe it was blind luck, though I tend to believe it was more of the first. Whatever it was I am now gainfully employed.

Today was my first day at work. I was late. Driving through an unfamiliar part of town and taking a shortcut to bypass rush hour traffic make volatile bedfellows. I drove about twenty minutes out of my way, thus ending up fifteen minutes late. Low and behold, no I am not working at some firm learning something new, no I am not finding out something new about society, no I am working in the front office of an apartment complex. I have spent my fair share of time in apartment offices, just on the other side of the desk.

My job is filled with small insignificant tasks. I filed, I copied, I answered the phone, oh and yeah I rented apartments. It didn't make much sense to me, but on my first day, me, the little two week temp, was in charge of doing all the paper work involved with renting out an apartment unit. Perhaps it was because I was over-dressed in my slacks and tie, or maybe it was their recognition of my innate skill. Whatever it was, I was showing people around a complex I have never seen before, answering questions I really don't know the answers to, and having people fill out forms I don't even know what to do with. It was an interesting situation to say the least.

and all the while the smooth jazz played in the background tearing at each little nerve as it heads to my brain.

While supposing to be background music, there could be nothing more obvious than that god awful sound. I don't know, if it came down to pop or smooth jazz it would be a very close match up. Which one sucked more. I must thank everything that is good in the world though that I decided to bring a book to read during lunch. Homer and I curled up on a couch and disappeared into the ancient world. One where s.j. doesn't exist yet and heros reigned. The world was smaller and epics were a way of life. It was one of the best times I have had recently. Odysseus lived more than I have. I lived somewhere else for fourty-five wonderful minutes, totally oblivious to the muted tv next to me pushing the coaxial garbage of jenny jones.

We'll see what tomorrow brings. Hopefully thicker skin and greater heroic adventures.

It's really hard to write when nothing is going on. I want to have something deep and insightful to say about life, but all I've got is a week spent watching tv and reading. So yeah, some people might like that, and I thought I would too, but that's not the way it's been working. It seems like I've come to see myself as what I do and since I have not been doing anything I feel terrible about myself. Yesterday I went absolutely stir crazy. I had to mow the lawn, a task I detest, to make myself feel better.

Perhaps it's a symptom of my relationship with the Lord. I've defined myself more by what I do than by what I am. Time spent with him is substitued by things done, or even thought about doing. My arm says that I am in Christ, but is that the way I am actually living? I find that I live a memory or even a fantasy more than I live a reality. That's something that I would love to change all at once, but I am sure that that is an impossible task. I did not get here in one step and neither will I leave by one. It's a journey and a process. One that I have not begun yet, but know that I should. If someone would just kick my butt and get me moving. I can't kick it hard enough myself.

It seems like I cannot do anything right when it comes to employment. I'm either not searching hard enough, being lazy, or other somesuch thing like that. It's this interesting relationship my mother and I have. I try as well as I know and she lays into me for not doing well enough. I mean, we get along great besides this point, but whenever work is brought up she gets all in my face about it. It's probably maternal instincts that make her not want her offspring to not survive in the working world, but still, it's like I cannot do anything right. Kinda frustrating. I mean, yeah, there's probably other things I could be doing, but I don't know what they are. Could someone enlighten me please?

why am i awake when all i'm doing is watching tv? i'm really not liking this break so far. lazy ass.

ah, vacation. Yes, it can be as good as it sounds. Vacation. That word has a healing effect on the human soul. Just say it to someone and all things seem not so bad as before.

it just sucks that mine is tainted.

Yeah, trying to find a job over summer vacation is almost like voluntarily having a root canal done. If only root canals paid ten bucks an hour. I think I could sit in a chair long enough to make some good money. That's the real driving factor of this whole situation. It's less than a week from when my so called vacation started and I am worrying that I am not going to find a job in time to make some money before I leave in June. Leave to make absolutely no money at a summer camp. But really, is working at camp about the money? I think not.

I really hate being tied down to this materialistic society. If I could just live, that would be great. Oh, I need something? I'll just go out and get it. Nothing driven by money. Only by need. Honestly though, it could never happen. If even one person changes it ruins the whole system. Kinda like communism.

Oh well, for now I'll just sit around and watch movies all day. There's nothing wrong with that is there...?

lost by lines and shades

the changing is the hardest part
leaving behind a part that i can never regain again
it will all be different when i return

what is another night spent here on these sheets
in tears
when i've spent the last two the same
what is the point of hopeless fighting
of fears
when it will happen anyway

and the day seems as if years
and i'm still here looking at captured perspectives
wishing that I could return

what is another night spent here on these sheets
in tears
when i've spent the last two the same
what is the point of hopeless fighting
of fears
when it will happen anyway

happen anyway and i am unbound
like the books slowly fading on the shelf
page upon page falling like skin
and i am left defenseless
unbound and it happens anyway

what is another night spent here on these sheets
in tears
when i've spent the last two the same
what is the point of hopeless fighting
of fears
when it will happen anyway

and i am awake...

and i am alone...

ok, maybe not entirely alone. The two women sitting in the office next to mine are seeming to have a grand soft time over there, but here I sit. Isolated by a inch and a half think peice of fiberboard from the rest of the world. Behind here I am just a thrall, a sub human if you will. Fairly sure that I am the one who is always incorrect and the person, who's only difference is geographic positioning, is right. 'I'm sorry, let me see if I can find the right answer for you.'

and it never helps that my shorts don't fit anymore...

rolling out of bed this morning at 7:30 realizing that I have to be in the office by 8 meant all I had time to do was to throw some clothes on, blindly fumble with the contacts, and stumble out the door. The feeling didn't hit me until I was walking from the parking lot to the building and realized that I had to pretty much hold them up or they were going to fall off my body. Now I guess for some people they might find incomperable joy in the fact that they are smaller in the mid section, I on the other hand was cursing the fact that my favorite pair of shorts now were not the right size. Or perhaps they are the right size and I am the one who is wrong. That would fit with my existence behind this desk. 'I'm sorry, let me see if I can be the right size for you.'

and i am gone...

well, in a day I'll be gone and all this will be over. It's hard to lose friends. Yeah, people say 'you never lose a friend, we'll keep in touch'. That's great, keep in touch. When what I want is personal contact. Where their lives are an integral part of mine. We do things together rather than send a few over used text lines in email or instant messenger. I'm pretty burned out on the whole long distance friendship thing. I mean, I'm really glad that I can keep in touch with people like a friend of mine who has been in Argentina for the past year. I get all crazy whenever I get the chance to talk with him. But such is life in these times when my friends are growing up and leaving...(sniff).

My brain is going to fry out pretty soon. I'm taking a much needed break after having studied for several hours and that after just geting back from another exam. Oh how I am going to revel in the glory of finishing these exams. Dancing for joy in complete nakedness. Unabashed and unashamed. Ok, maybe that'll only be for a very short while in the privacy (pronounced in the proper british way) of my own room.

And as a pre-celebration (which was actually mean to be a post-celebration but due to poor time judgement by myself is now beforehand) Thursday morning I'm getting inked up. Writing on my arm for all the world to see that I am "in Christ". That is what it is going to say. Written right above an intricate celtic knot on my left arm. The "in Christ" is going to be written in ancient greek so it will take me explaining it to people for them to understand it. Hopefully it will be a conversation starter to share the gospel. That is not the reason I am getting it though, but rather because it describes pretty much in full who I am.

I'm sure the parents will have something to say about it, but whatever. I'm 21 so it doesn't matter.

and now back to the books.

The tamborines of Hare Krishnas and guitars of Christians on campus accomplish the same thing in my mind, to annoy the crap out of me.

Be it the monotone droaning of krishna chants or the, mostly, slightly off pitch wail of worship songs, it all has the same effect. Call me cynical if you will but I don't believe that either of those two were meant as advertisements. "Hey! Come look at our cool group."

I guess it comes down to the fact that worship is too personal to me for it to be used as a marketing device. I have no problem, in fact find great joy, in seeing someone on campus bent over his/her guitar intently worship the Lord by him/herself or with a few others. It's when the person at the table in Turlington or the Union Colonnade is making the loudest noise he/she can to bring attention to the table.

Is that what it is all about?

The Hare Krishnas are a little different in that I am not personally involved with them, but it creates the same feeling. Does standing on the corner of 13th and University chanting really forward the cause of Hare Krishnaicism? I can't say for everyone but it doesn't engender me to their cause.

Marketing and publicity are not my cup of tea. Kill 'em with the love is my paraphrase of the uniquely biblical concept of 'they will know you by your love'. Where else does that idea show up. Many other 'religious' groups preach love to all, but are they known for it. Or is it something else. Say, their garb, or their worship practices, etc.

Now I'm not saying that many christians are known for their love. I believe that we as a whole have dropped the ball on that. While not saying that an exception is made here, but I do believe those involved with crusade here on average probably are more loving than other circles of christians. But is that because we are so wrapped up in a crusade subculture that it becomes easy for us here, yet will leave us as soon as we ourselves leave? I really can't say.

And as I look around now and find myself alone in a sea of people I wonder. Do I stand out? Can they tell? A sickening feeling I have is that I have become just like them. Self-serving, unconscious of all around me, believing that my little bubble, this space that finds itself around me, is somehow more important or more blessed than others.

How can I be so all about this unattractive and ungainly peice of flesh? I can't answer that truthfully to myself right now. I've lied to myself for too long to believe me.