"There are moments here:
only dots on an endless timeline.
All the motions of ordinary love"*
It's hard to find meaning,
but it's harder to excuse meaning.
It's harder to deny that these simple routines
of waking up and continuing
are meaningless.
Things happen.
More specifically,
today a boy told me that
people like me give him the energy to keep living.
I've thought a lot about that
and I'm still not sure why he would say that
but I am sure that he meant it
and even surer that if I all I can claim
to have accomplished in life is giving this lovely boy
energy to keep living
than my life will be worth having lived.
I am sure the endless monotony
of repetition will cease
and things will seem new and fresh soon.
I've tried to bring about these changes
by doing simple things;
I've stopped eating meat
and using painkillers,
I've bleached my hair white
and have been on dates with a very pretty, if not comely, girl.
The only way to change that which bothers me
on the inside is to change those things around me
that bring upon the molestation.
It's amazing how I can sit down and begin writing with no clear objective or outline and as I feel the energy of writing leaving me,
I feel as if i have accomplished something.
I look back on what I have written and feel
that I have helped myself achieve some sort of clarity,
I can turn the zeroes and ones into comfort,
I can turn the digitally remastered music into love
and I can feel it.
My uncle once told me he couldn't believe I could be sad,
that I wouldn't believe the things he's seen over seas,
both on and off duty, both as a soldier and as a traveler.
Maybe he's right,
maybe I shouldn't be sad,
but it's only when I'm alone I feel this way,
and even then it's only some of the time.
Three years ago I was close to taking my own life,
and I remember that then I was only happy when I was alone,
and even then it was only some of the time.