A Pound for Ponderings

funny how i felt something's different when i went to your station last night akin, to what you felt the other day when you saw our mutual friend. i felt shunned by directional default. it is not like me to demand reciprocation of devotion in equal measure. nay, i for one do not believe reciprocal love is something we can expect from this life.

it is most difficult to forego the kind of life you'd rather lead when the beginning is marred by a looming presence akin to alienation. no friendship is ever inalienable in that converged paths always find ways to part. one is meant to pursue the forlorn road.

there is nothing that stays in this life. nothing you can carry with you for all your pained journey of learning more pain, learning how to deal with it simply because it is there.

why is he not coming over here? doesn't he see me? feel me? how interestingly annoying it is, to know that here i am, getting through every protracted second with the thought of seeing him. and there he is, staying at their bay. what's this in between, separating us, anyway? 30-40 yards and an ocean of thoughts and feelings locked up, building in pressure that makes for devastating consequences. maybe it's just me being too sensitive. maybe it is me being smart in figuring out things that should've been figured out long ago. maybe it's just me making mountains of shit-hills out of molehills.

i do not know. i do not know what think anymore.

resolved: just get the hell on with what is there in front, to keep from slacking off by matters of consequence beyond my control.

the problem with me is i am extremely jealous. which is why i don't make an effort to care and love and hope because when i do, i get ever so jealous over trifles. now, this is not something that is generally destructive; for the most part, it is i who suffers from that.
now i'm cold. my lips are chapped. my fingers numb. my eyes needing to close. i am tired. i've had enough of my daily complications.

i don't see any point in doing so. i don't see any point in all this, being someone i am not. living for something that i cannot ever be.

marty has a point. i AM more responsible than this. i have more respect for myself than what i'm exhibiting now. life is more than who we are. how does one deal with the unbearable lightness of being anyway?

don't give yourself away. don't give yourself away.

scarred soul hiding from the world, hide thyself once more.


as of this writing, Jeprox G. Lingamen, 23, is writhing silently on his work station, gazing longingly at the object of his heart-complications, valiantly ignoring the stark lonely seconds drenching him cold like unannounced sleet does to a weeping willow. he'll be alright though, as he so fiercely professes all the time.