Monday, March 17, 2008

i don't do st. patrick's day, i'm welsh...

i was creating this analogy, and i realized that it's perfect, cuz now it's technically monday, so it's st. partick's day. here it is:

i thought i found a rainbow and i was trying to follow it to a pot of gold, and when i finally got to the end it was just a little handful of brown stuff covered in yellow foil. and then i went to take a bite and the brown stuff turned out to be dog crap instead of chocolate. because apparently it wasn't a rainbow at all. it was just a mirage. but neither exists anyway...just a trick of the light... and i was definitely blinded by it.

sigh...

realizing the truth...or rather, forcing yourself to stop running away from it... is strangely exhilarating... like skydiving. you'll never feel freer...you can scream to the sky everything that you've had pent up inside you, everything that's been whirling around in your mind and heart, both of which were long since broken; because you know it's the end and in a second you'll hit the bottom and it will all be over. because, unfortunately, sometimes the screaming was just because you realized that the person who was supposed to be loving and protecting you had actually handed you an empty backpack without a parachute, and the truth you're finally facing turns out to be the realization of all your worst nightmares, and when you wake up you aren't dead and instead of just the pain of a broken mind and heart, you have a broken body too.

and your friends tell you you're brave and you agree and say how happy you are to have it over with, and how great it felt to jump and be free. sadly, that plane and that person were your world and now you're lying in a field somewhere you don't even recognize, not knowing which way to go, and wondering if it even matters. but you have a vague hope that somewhere out there is someone else who can make your life worth living, so you just have to get up and keep walking around on your broken legs, holding your broken head with your broken hands, and the bloody trail left by your broken heart leaves you wondering how long you can possibly make it alone...

sofia says i'm melodramatic... and she's obviously right. but hey, that's me. it's funny how a person can tell you, even as he's pushing you out of his plane, that you need to be yourself. and how come they let you get in the plane in the first place? that's a dirty rotten trick. if you aren't interested in running the whole marathon, you should enter a shorter race, and if you realize you can't finish whichever one you started, then don't pretend that you're training to try again unless you mean it. nobody likes a quitter, but don't pretend to stop and take a breather and send your running buddy ahead if you're just going to try and sneak away. at least be man enough to call yourself a crappy quitter and send your buddy home too instead of letting them waste time and effort on someone who obviously wasn't worth it to begin with.

thinly veiled i know.

i have a headache.

i think it's the same headache i've had for the past four months.

the ones that originate in my heart never seem to fade as quickly as i'd like.

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