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& i repent all those messages you sent clear as day but in the night- oh i couldn’t get it right

the weather brought me down today- melancholy rain, dreary fog, both characteristics i typically like, but not today.  i was sad, and i remain sad.  i’m feeling anxious, and my therapist for the past 8 or so months has told me in recent visits that she doesn’t like that i’ve become anxious.  i feel bad she doesn’t like that, but its hard for me not to be anxious.  we tried to pin point what it actually is that i’m experiencing anxiety over and in short, sans the psychological jargon, we don’t know.

19 minutes after expected sleep time, i’m laying in my bed, timber timbre steadily playing in the background, multiple candles burning, mind racing, rain falling.  i’m sad, i keep thinking of memories i’d like to bury in the archives within the catacombs of my mind.  the rain is making me cry…silently of course.  i can smell sulfur from the matches i used to light everything burning in this quaint room of mine.  the night has a tint of orange to it, cars seem to be rolling by at a snail’s pace, the streetlights are flickering, and i can hear the neighbor’s bird chirping, this action being the outlier of course.  i loathe this feeling of sorrow, and given my current situation, i have no one to lean on.  even the cats have departed my room amidst the tears.  a friend from the past contaced me today, it was certainly a surprise.  when we talked though, i realized just how jaded i am.  not that i was shocked, just a bit disappointed in myself, i suppose was the primary reaction, with undertones of even more sorrow.  there are constant metronomes in this house- everywhere i go, something is there keeping me on task, something in the back of my mind…all the time.

i hate my tendencies.  how sans metronome, i have no such thing as concentration.  i hate how i have mood swings- frequently, i hate how people call me crazy because my ideas are radical, i hate how often i am perceived in the wrong light.  i hate how i burn bridges when im bored, how i lose friends easily, and make them rarely.  i hate how i get bored, because supposedly, intelligent people aren’t supposed to experience that phenomenon.  i hate how easily musicians relate to my real life.  i hate how my real friends are strewn across the country (oh this stupid nation). i like being rational. i like how easily i am inspired.  i like my imagination and how there are scenarios always playing out. i like how i stay up late to watch the rain. i like how i admire from afar, opposed to alongside.  i like my scrutiny- my sense of importance- how i have a difficult time being comical, how im a cynic, but how i wish i were a romantic.

i don’t think love exists, and unlike most, i’m not sad because of this conclusion. timber timbre is playing at SPACE in april, and Dark Dark Dark is playing at SPACE in march, so that gives me something to look forward to. why am i still up?

why am i still writing? i can’t even contemplate right now.  i want to go dance in the rain, but then i think, for what purpose? well…none seeing as i cant enjoy that with anyone at this day in time. time..another thing that bothers me, and yknow what else really bothers me? falling in love with someone that you know you have no chance with at all. and the sort of falling in love i’m talking about is the worst kind- through prose. someone should inject reason and rationality in me- although the long needles are the ones i can’t look at.

i’m feeling: unfortunate, melancholy, tired, interested, hopeful for a better tomorrow, a sore throat on the rise, and eyes slowly shutting.

let me write passionately sans intereference.

enfin.

as a last minute post-script: sure, I respect death, but I definitely dislike it, especially when it appears in my dreams.

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