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6:32 p.m. - 2002-03-22
I had Eggo brand Cinnamon Toast Waffles for breakfast.
Itís funny how things can change in a matter of weeks from bright and reasonable to dark and ugly and all bad.

It really makes one wonder what is real and what is false. Were we just pretending that we liked each other? Is the importance that we played in each otherís life really that disposable?

Or is this a device to make letting go ďeasierĒ some how?

You look at someone in terrible pain, they have lost their legs in an accident or something, and if you listen to what they scream out in their anguish you might hear some fantastic things, maybe even pleas to put them out of their misery.

On the other hand, you get that same accident victim a few hours later in the hospital while they are doped up and not feeling anything but whatever it is that is killing the pain and the conversation is just as useless, they may not even see where they are or recognize that they will never be the same again, but they donít care right then, right then they donít want to know.

Get a shrieking victim who is feeling every bit of the loss with every nerve doing itís job of transmitting that horrible signal, un-dulled and with excruciating efficiency, get that guy and put him in the room with the doped up version and let the good times roll.

I told Jane that I couldnít be her friend if my feelings were going to get continuously disregarded.

I donít want to be with Jane anymore. I also donít want to pretend that that means I hate her, or stack up all of the fucked up things I went through with her, minus the resolutions and gains that came out of them, in order to re-enforce an idea that stands fine on itís own.

And I donít want to have that done to me either. But that is not my fucking choice to make apparently.

A balance beam gets created when you separate from someone. On one side is the weight of a relationship that is dieing, built out of effort and time and love and pain and anger and mistakes, it holds whatever weight you assign it. On the other side is the new life to be born, full of opportunity and free of the patterns that have haunted you in your recent past. Now you can be whatever you think you want to be again, or so it seems.

I donít buy it myself. If I wanted to, I could pile up all of the ways that I have been fucked with in this relationship, even in just the past few weeks, and catapult myself into a refreshing feeling of new and improved. Everybody I meet is willing to help me heft some big hunks of lead into the latter dish on that balance beam, even people who have no clue as to the reality of the situation.

I don't blame them, I have heaved my share of lead in the name of helping friends move on in my lifetime, but I'm not so sure that it is the best kind of help one can give anymore.

Iím sick of being serious, but if I could figure out a way to control moods Iíd be typing up a best seller right now instead of this entry.


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