Notebook, 2013

If tomorrow is here then so be it

But don’t ask me to say amen because

I won’t believe it I won’t believe it I

won’t believe it.

The Veil

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
--1 Corinthians 13:12

Notebook, 1990

I have a secret words

will never find,

images I tucked

away.

I once heard a voice.

It beckoned me,

singing,

tell me your secrets,

your hopes and fears

and jealousies.

I whispered back in the

safest voice I could

reveal,

my dreams mean nothing

to you.

Diary entry, April 20, 2014

This is evil. 

You think you know.  You can never know.  You will never know anything other than a name that means nothing to you.  You are trapped in the network.  The hallway has no exit.  The bicycle has no wheels.  If you step outside of the red lines there is nothing to stand on.  You will fall.  You will fall, and you will not even remember how to scream, but it won’t matter.  Because no one would hear you even if you did.  You are a story I sold for a million howls of laughter.  For a million screams of pleasure.  You are nothing.  You were just one more born to serve a purpose, and now you are used up.  No wonder you question living.  You know there is no purpose left for you.  I tore you into tiny pieces and gave bits to any who asked.  I did this because you are useless.  No one cared then, and no one cares now.  You are a piece of lint to be flicked away, blown into nowhere.

Ghosts

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again.
--The Tempest, Act. III. Sc. 2
Wm. Shakespeare

School essay, 1985

At one time or another, everyone feels a regret or hurt that they hold deep down inside until it nearly crushes them.  By the time it reaches the critical point, though, the person himself has to let it go.  They may never be totally forgiven for what they once did, but complete absolution is rare.  To release the pain, we first must realize that we are holding it inside.  Many people deny this until it hits them like a sudden storm.

Diary entry, February 1, 2015

Another year, the same question:  how much longer? 

How much longer indeed.