Maybe she has come to realize that she doesn't love me anymore. Maybe all that I have said and done on my own behalf hasn't been anything more than fighting in the struggle to "win." But what is there to win, when there isn't anyone on the other side of the pit? Is that the question that needs to be asked? Is that really the situation that I find myself in today? I went away, yeah sure, I ran off to do what I wanted to do–letting myself float upon the wind–I wasted away in my self: pity, loathing, obsession, greed, and lethargy. But what does it matter today? Sure I guess everything has some sort of value but where I stand today I'm having a bit of a hard time dealing with the "feeling." The feeling of how I feel, perceive and understand this situation. I can't get past the feeling, on to the understanding that might lead one day to some sort of blessed acceptance. Yeah, I'm an addict–today I can say that and know for whatever it is worth and whatever that it might stand for it is all the more and nonetheless true. Where do you go from that starting point, if this is my starting point what am I supposed to do when that person, that other, that external thing is still on the cusp? The sad and terrible irony is that right there above, I admit that I'm on that same cusp and it isn't what I expected when I dreamed of being a man. It's funny though because when I was first setting out before I experience my first real bout of disappointment, dysfunction and failure I had this sort of idealistic way of viewing the path to manhood. Number one, I imagined that it was a path. Number two, that path (like the christian jargon ejaculates) is windy, narrow and full of obstacles. Then I imagined, which brings us to number three, that those obstacles where all obstacles of the self and the internal conflict and challenge that arises when one tries to pull himself out of the mire and on to something else, that something being a functions behavior as it approaches an asymptote or eternity or nothing or blah. But what is better for that? to diverge into infinity or to converge on some thing, some behavior, some person, some belief or some life? Hmmm...who is around to answer that silly question?

But for what it's worth in my rambling, I know that today she is gone, today I am alone, today I have myself, today I have things to do, accomplish and ignore, and better yet I have my health–right? And so goes the steady progression my mind. I start at the beginning with, fuck me I'm alone and somehow I always end up by making some of half-hearted declaration of what I have going for myself. That is unless I get entrapped in the suicidal loop. I could make any recently pubescent teenage look like a the most hard-nosed and heartless ex-con if anyone took two seconds to observe my reaction to rejection.
Tear, blah blah, wain whain, how gives a f* If only I could get over myself for two seconds. That is what we are trying to get at isn't? Getting past the self to look at what is really going on around us. It's funny, since I have stopped drinking I have from time to time those cliché bullshit moments when I tell myself that yeah, things really do seem a bit brighter and clearer these days, and I even seem like I can carry a thought in my head for more than a minute without being distracted by a bird or a pair of tits or whatever you want to fill in as a blank waste of time. That is definitely something to be grateful for isn't? I am reminded of Orwell's the Time machine when the ill-fated protagonist makes his way back through time repeatedly trying to undo the tragedy of the past, in the result of failure. If his beloved had not died, he would have had children and a happy life as a fulfilled father and a complete man. But, that isn't the way that things unfolded is it? No, his lover was first stabbed, then shot, then I don't remember which or if it happened in that order but nonetheless she died twice and he lived it three times–the poor bastard fool. She died, he turned inward and he created the time-machine. He hoped that he could have her again, and yes, I think that it was a noble effort and one that rips the heart in two if we think of the bond that drove him in his desperate humanity to create, to return, and to fail.
Unfortunately, for the state of my pride presently, I, on the other hand, am left with nothing but the biting and relentless cloud of failure. I have lost what I was unwilling to loose and her absence in this seat of my emotions has been replaced by a terrible brick. It is both unyielding, unforgiving, and completely rooted in. I think that if she were to return, not during the day, not in some nonchalant way, but if she were to return in the night, if she were to take the key that I gave to her, open my door and lay herself beside me, those poisonous roots would some how whither on the spot, dry up and break apart, turned to dust and leave me, repulsed, unforgiven and detracted. I wish I could close that door. I wish I could somehow deal with me now, today, with all that I have going on upstairs, and in concert with my chronic ego-centrism it's a wonder I don't throw myself out a window. I wish I could do that with the emphasis on the self part, that old self, the one that I was but no longer want to be. Again, yeah, maybe this is really all about winning, and control and manipulation. F* that would be a terrible truth but a common reality, wouldn't it? I know that in the past she has enacted all three mindsets against me, and the results were varied. I have done my own damage too. But today on the phone, I called her, she was at his house, and she told me that we needed to talk tomorrow. I am hanging on a thread and trying to pull myself back from the ledge but I don't know how and I don't know what is going to happen. But then, sure I do, right? Nothing is going to happen, no matter the outcome of tomorrow's conversation, tomorrow night I am going to end up in my bed, at some point I will sleep and then at sometime on Monday morning–probably later than hoped for–I will wake up, get up and then go to work. The probability of this actually happening is well over 99%, unless I were to fall off something, get hit on the head, contract some virulent disease, or die, right? And then, what is the likelihood that I actually die, right? I am smart, rich and white, again am I right? Hmmm...that is another conversation and for another time, let's shave our heads, strip off our clothes and return to the fields to hunt and forage, F* and wander. Return to tribal roots. Or we could just follow the lemmings over the edge. For now, I will have to content myself in the writing about these things, I'm too engrossed, sadly but true, in myself and I think I am probably here to stay at least for a while. Or maybe not?