Shut you out.

And you and you and you....

My mom is asleep on the couch still. Part of me pities her comfort right now. I can only imagine what's going through her head. I remember wanting to fully open up to her, and being with her makes me forget the point in that. We should just enjoy our time together, right? Forget the bad things and focus on the good things... In a way I find that unrealistic because there are bad things everywhere all the time especially in my head right now. Everything that comes out of her mouth is Shakespearean in the sense that it is blunt and correct advice. He knew everything, damnit and I don't care what anyone says! She really does not need to know my drug/drinking habits, my experimentation process, my love that is in the background of every dream, every humorous moment, every silly stand up, and compassionate respectful moment. But I can't help but despise him. They do say that you can only hate someone you love. That seems to be the case.

I read his writings and I am blown away by what he remembers and what I've been determined to forget. Hot summer days and breezy nights. Nights that we felt so undeniably connected, on complete other sides of the house. And when it finally happened it was messy. He broke my heart and I fell for someone else immediately. Now it's years later and I can't help but get farther and farther away. "Truly animalistic," he said. I don't even know if that's a word, but it describes perfectly. Shedding of the skin, changing of colors, to decieve you. And now all I want to see is him.

Then there's the other. Someone new, exciting, yet so similar to the latter. Almost too similar to him. And he's a game player, a rock star, a Scorpio, a sexy sexy man complete with the dissipating flutter. I can't help but hate that. Love is too temporary for my liking. Love and everything in between, all forms of it. It's hard to get back into the trusting of other people, compassion, sympathy and so on. When one doens't show the same qualities you wish to exude, the same curtosy, respect, it's hard to give anyone a chance. Then I feel I'm being victimized and I just turn the other cheek for the time being, and I put up with the... (referencing palahnuik...)
"Shit," isn't the right word to use, but it's the first word that comes to mind.

Then there's her. And I feel useful and opportune. And horrible and ridiculous and experimental and Eistein-esque.
And my thoughts gravitate back to him. To my past young soul, naive and hopeful and with the world in the palm of my hand. Now old and wrinlking with the stress of everyday creation, now that it's actually there I can't help but want to throw it back into the sky, recreating mystery. I could make a list of what I thought he'd for sure forget. I could bash myself on the head for falling. That seems to always be the case.

So it goes.