Leaving so i can arrive.

Today. I leave for Japan today.

Holy shit.......i leave for Japan today. The worst timing for a glorious adventure. This day should have come some 10 years ago. Six at the latest.

But no matter, i leave today.

Oh my god, i'm leaving.

Encroaching reality

Japan.

It's almost here. Jesus....how long as it been since i last thought i would actually get to see it. My Atlantis, my Xanadu.

Nearly fourteen years worth of dreaming coming true. i think i finally understand why some guys get the way they do when they are about to talk to their dream girl.

At this point i'm not even excited about Japan, i'm just nervous and fearful. What if this doesn't work out? What if i can't find a job? I couldn't even get a job in a country where i speak the language to scoop up dog shit (and i mean that literally).

Japan might be the most fun i have anywhere in my life, but it's the after portion if everything goes to shit that has me not even excited. Mostly because the month of April is around the corner. That old sinister witch to come and ruin my plans, what does she have in her cauldron this time to ruin everything. Granted for the last two years she has left me alone, but it's when one comes complacent that life chooses to fuck you over.

Sweet Jesus, please just this once, just this fucking once, please work out for me.

I have grown too old, tired, and wary. Could you please, just work out this once? I've actually worked toward this, i really have. And the entire way i have met road block after, "life got in the way" road block. I aint asking for a soulmate like some of these stupid assholes out here, i aint asking to win the lottery, i'm just asking for this one thing, an actual small chance to get a job.

Soul mate: 1 in 7 billion.

Lottery: 1 in 10 million

A job where i can do what i want: 1 in 1000. The numbers are there, i can only carry me so far, just share a little luck. I'm so tired of waiting.

Walking to San Elsewhere

I moved to this tiny town in 1992 at the age of ten. A few thousand people in 5 square miles, even then it seemed like there was nothing here.

Now 20 years later as i walked home from my friends place i spotted houses in places where a near 6 years ago there weren't. Just spans of dirt fields with large toughs of spherical tumbleweeds dotting the land, As i walked past the memory of one particular field that no longer exists; in the low orange hue of dusk i suddenly felt old and tired. Memories have that odd ability of transferring from only a thought to a physical pain.

I think what made the pain have a hardened edge was a song from my childhood came on my ipod at that time. In that instant i might have believed there is such a thing as time travel. It just takes an extreme set of circumstances: the right music, the correct coordinates, and bad timing.

I walked the rest of the way ignoring the music, my surroundings, and my age. I wanted to go home, but not this one, the one from 1999. Knowing that was impossible i suddenly wanted to get out and go back home to San Diego which was also impossible.

It was a weird day.

One of those.

God damn i woke up feeling weird today. I can't stop sighing.

Everything is good too. I cooked myself a nice meal of chicken and rice, i got plenty of sleep, got a decent score on my last test to finish up my Learning and Using Stand English class, the weather is gorgeous.....and i can't stop sighing.

Something is just off.

Anyway, it coming down to the last couple of weeks before i move from San Diego and return to my hometown, in hopes it will soon be time to move to Japan. It's hard to believe i have been writing in this thing for four years, i think that is the longest i have kept up with one of these - what would you call this? A journal?.........................................

I did it again.  I sighed.

I need a drink. It's been a long time since the last time i drank.

Some comfort by anything would be nice.

Just There Part 2

Feeling unexpectedly empty i started to drink. This town where i live isn't so bad, but the night calls for an aria of sirens; police, fire, and other, it can be peaceful, but on warm dusks they go on all night.

Maybe it is the music that has me feeling askew. I flipped on a channel of music i used to listen to nearly ravenously when i was younger, like it was part of a misleading ceremony that i couldn't live without; i would take the notes offered and let them fill me and shape my level of regard. My mid 20's were an exceptionally odd time; maybe that's the feeling this music conjures up; all my misunderstandings of myself.

Oddly relaxed, and confused, such a strange combo to feel. It's nearly hollow, this feeling. Like the beginning stages of when one knows they are about to have a headache.

But i came to here to speak of my second trip home. I was kissed. How, why, or who is not the part to reflect on, but where i didn't flinch. In the last 10 years a few girls have tried to kiss me and i have recoiled; not in fear or disgust, but in avoidence. Kissing, to me, always feels charished. And when it's done nearly prefuncatory it twists to an empty gesture. That's where i turn away.

The girl was drunk, which isn't surprising, no one tries to kiss me unless under the influence. I was tipsy but no where near close to drunk, hell i am drunker sitting typing this out than i was then. The kiss wasn't deep, long, or even sensual. It was........friendly. The first one left me stunned, and totally confused; to be honest it kinda pissed me off. There was a point in my mind where i felt taken advantage of, she was sad by her life and i listened, responed, and even gave some advice. At one point to calm her held her hand, which felt like a different empty gesture, and then later she kissed me as if that was a thing to do. It felt like it was my payment for being nice, it made me feel cheap. As if anyone, not me spicifically, but literally anyone else would have received the same "gift". I felt as if i had wasted emotions, my words, and my time only for this act to make her feel better.

But this doesn't even spark the fire of confusion.

I asked for another kiss. And was given another, just as quick and shallow. Immidiately i questioned myself why i did that. Some would say "Because you like being kissed." Thats the thing, i don't when i know when it's an emtpy gesture. When i know it will lead nowhere and it has nothing to do with who i am, i sincerely do not like it.

But i asked for another. That's like a person with a hatred of lizards getting a pet Komodo Dragon.

Just there.

I, in the time it took me to came back here and tick these keys to chart my life again, managed to visit "home" twice. The first visit was a burst of cool, welcoming bang; with friends quickly huddling to the spot i was to see, greet, and laugh with me. There was a momentary fear on the drive up that somewhere the area would have a negative effect. To my luck there was only one, and it so brief it made me smile.

The negative happened the night i went to visit Josh and Stephanie to see their new baby, i made it a point to make it to their home, where i even cancelled seeing another friend because i knew i needed to be there. I have very little interest in babies, as all my friends know, which i think made Josh a little surprised when i mentioned i had to see the little one. I figured when you have a friend you literally known for half of your life, seeing their new child is an unwritten obligation even i can't ignore. i met the newest addition, had some fun talking to her and watched her interact with amazement at everything in her world.

Later when Stephanie put the baby to sleep, Josh waved me over to his cluttered kitchen table and picked up a photo and handed it to me. Before i even looked at the photo i glanced at the table and noted the hodgepodge was all photos. Nearly every scrape of "paper" was a picture; a bedlam of memories. "My mom found these," Josh said, as i looked at the pic in my hand. My eye was drawn to three things; right off was the bean poll himself: Josh, standing arms folded, his signature half smile gleaming on his face, leaning on the still together wreaked Chevy Blazer he bought from my dad. The second was the Blazer itself, it was still partially smashed when my older sister crashed it years before the pic was taken. The last was myself. Beardless, less fat, and all smiles of a 17 year old who knows nothing. It wasn't the collective youth of the picture, or even the scene itself, it was my spring-tide smile that drove a point in me: "What have i been doing?" That was the first time nostalgia had a hardened edge, i nearly winced outwardly, and i felt old.

And weak.

I thanked him for the picture when he said i could keep it if i wanted. When i got back to my friends house where i was staying i placed the picture of us between the pages of a book (an absolute for me when i travel is to have a book) so it wouldn't get wrinkled.

My second trip wasn't as eventful. The excitement of my absence had waned, as all things do and i has a relatively calm stay. But one event on the second trip was so odd and surprising i might talk about it.

But for now, it's getting late and i feel i need a drink. Hopefully i'll write again soon.

The Home Visit.

If things pan out as they should for once, i will be back in my hometown for a few days to celebrate the New Year. Before i get into that, i should talk a little about my Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas: i did nothing, for all three. I sat inside the apartment and watched tv.

I digress.

There are no expectations of what i might feel when i get back "home". It's an experience i have seen played in many different forms; movies, but most often in novels and i can see myself reacting similarly. From the "glad to see you again", to "i love you guys but i am happy i moved away", and finally, "a miserable place for miserably like-minded people". The latter being a bit of a stretch considering i don't imagine they or myself have changed to such a glaring, unrecognizable degree where we can no longer see each as our peer.

But that's for the people. As for the land itself; the place i have memorized all the summer sunsets, to the chilly winds in fall that hurt my nose. Can scenery really provoke my nostalgia to have enough lament in my heart as we drive back? It makes me a little nervous, but i really wish to find out.

Midnight Pictures

i dreamt of high school.

That sentence along with the actual circumstances that orbit it can easily be deemed as ridiculous, well for me anyway. I can't say for most, but i don't really reflect on my 4 year tour of limbo. Mainly because there was only one year that was amazing (junior). There are a few i imagine would describe it as either of the usual spectrum of "good" or "bad", for me: i floated through.

Mostly, if i ever really say i do, i like to think back on the years after high school, almost the year directly after. So to find myself considering or even weirder yet, to dream of that time is truly odd. The odder part was i had all my knowledge, my 32 year old self placed into my (i'm guessing) 17 year old body. I remember thinking i wanted to make sure everything would stay the same for when i returned to my time. Which meant i would make sure that all my mistakes were redone in proper time and order and my resolve to purposefully redo some of those questionable actions did not falter. To make sure i would be friends with the people i know now and that my life with my family would go unchanged i was more than willing to do wrong.

I purposefully cheated a few times and strayed from the path i walked all those years ago and went to go see people i hadn't in years. I spoke with my friend's sister Bobby for no other reason but to say "Hello." I searched for Mike, whom i didn't really know in high school just to see what he looked like then, he actually had hair. After school was out i ran to my usual meeting place with Genesis, the old grump was there begrudgingly waiting for me so we could walk home as i chatted "at" him, not "to" him, but "at" him. The boy at that time very rarely spoke. As we headed home i think i was uncharacteristically quiet for G asked why i was being quiet. As i considered his question i realized i wanted to tell him everything about his life for the next 15 years. That his road ahead was not going to be easy, that everything from then on was going to deliver him to the brink and not often would he be able to come back. I wanted to warn him, shield him, do all what i felt was reasonable to save him from himself. But lessons aren't learned that way. I decided to trust his future self when i got back to my time that he would/will find his strength. i wanted to pray.

Sometime after i met up with Josh, Billy, Aaron, Betty, James and a few i can't remember (or at least my dream self couldn't) and old times were had. Again i think i was uncharacteristically silent; they asked me "what's wrong?", i was busy studying them, remembering the future them and my place with some of them 15 years from then and watched as their usual mannerisms and idiosyncrasy's played out as i narrated their patterns right before they did them. Strangely seeing them was bittersweet at this age, i missed them from my time. They were good here, i am/was glad i knew them then, but they were/are great later.

Lastly, i saw Ashley again. This was shocking considering i hadn't expected to see her, hell even my 32 year old brain that had been calling all the shots knowing exactly where we had to go, do, and say, wasn't ready for the blindsiding that was this event. We could not remember if we had actually met with her at that time, it wasn't on the itinerary to get back to ourselves.

We spoke as i walked with her to some place with no destination. Well, she spoke, i listened and of course was asked "what's wrong?" when my silent studying seemed off to her. i have no hang ups for her, i remember thinking. She was a pleasant girl that had the misfortune of actually dating me. She was another with a hard future, but considering i hadn't spoken to her in nearly 5 years from my time, i truly don't know how hard or pleasant it is/was. We walked along a park near her home (one i think that is still there to this day) and we took a seat on the mini merry go round and a song that i wouldn't hear for 13 years but was made 20 years ago played in my head. That very thought of knowing a song i would hear much later even though it currently already existed made me feel very old and scared for my future-self. Did knowing this song mean i was on the right track? If i did something that wasn't quite right would i start to lose my memories from my own time? I would i not meet Sarah: the water bringer of my once dry soul? Telly: the appointed sister, fellow comrade in sarcasm. Irene: the watch-guard, always being distant but loving; forever eyeing my best interests. A multitude of others leaped into my head, Lil'Sarah, Kyle, Kali, Brady, Carla, Natalie, just so many jumbled into the dark spot behind my eyes.

Panic filled my stomach, sweat poured from my temples and i could almost feel the blood rushing around my body. I breathed off the pain and continued on.

I broke off the conversation here and walked Ashley back to her (then) home. I didn't kiss her, somehow her being 16 and my mind being 32 it felt odd, plus i think that would still play to my then character. Younger William would have stayed the polite route, well polite/inexperienced, either way it wasn't going to throw off the time line.

Much later i woke up in real life feeling old and even though i haven't had a drink in almost three weeks i felt what could have been a hangover. I got on the rest of the day glad my life had returned and that it had been a dream. i never bother questioning dreams, i think of them as nothing more than nighttime movies your mind comes up with to entertain itself. But this one, this one in particular i considered far longer than i do on most.

I mean, hell, i took the two hours to write it all down and place it here so i don't forget this one. This one showed me that for all of the bullshit i went through and put myself into, so far it has all been worth it because of the people i met, know and love. There is a part of me in the corners that i could easily take the role of the villain to maintain my loves; that is both monstrous and comforting.

As i sit here alone, but not without some occupancy of loneliness, i read my book on the floor underneath the cool breeze of my window. As my Venetian blinds gently sway and thunk against the glass i can faintly hear violins; Ode to Joy, in fact. I stand in the opening of my window to look down the hill to the apartment below, and in the off-center of the parking-lot stands two people rhythmically undulating with the notes they were creating. They play in the dark facing each other producing soothing vibrations for sometime. When the song ended i clapped; they didn't hear me. Which is just as well, who knows why they would play this late, those two song birds of the night.

Illusion Sleep

So what is it that i want to say? I've been awake for a long time now, not anywhere near ridiculous, not the usual ugly turn of my normal insomnia. This time my sleeplessness feels different than that. When sleep eludes my body feels sluggish until my knees, below them my feet feel as if they could walk and walk and never become tired, sometimes they even urge me to see how far we could get. And as this battle goes on, my mind floats around to trying to sleep, to listening to what's on the tv, around to hearing myself think then back to the tv. But here, this time i am just awake. I glanced over all of the tv shows on my computer and for the first time nothing looks interesting; not even something to turn on to sleep to.

My mind tugged at my writing lobe, but there isn't much there. So what is it that i want to say? Something is troubling me, but i have no idea what it is? Am i homesick because i am back "home" but my family is closer but still a good distance away? I have to consider those words as i type them, this is all being read as i write it, but even to me, the person writing doubts the homesickness theory. It could be simple as something like i am just so damned bored my mind is active from the lack of stimulant.

I've been sitting here watching the cursor blink for nearly five minutes, nothing is coming to mind on how to continue. I think i am just really bored and everything to distract me from it doesn't appear interesting. i guess i'll get up and head to the living room and watch tv until i  am no longer paying attention to it in hopes sleep will find me there.

Hi CA

We stepped into our new apartment in the early evening of Aug 20th and it was clear to see for me that i really did miss the California sunsets, for when i stepped into what was going to be my room, even with my window facing north the rays that entered we a ping of nostalgic. For reasons i know that could be explained but i have no wish to truly know, but the sunsets here are pinker than Virginia's. There they are more dark blue, the sun doesn't fight for its light to linger so it easily fades out, leaving a feeling of gloom.

Even though it's only been two weeks in someways i already miss Virginia, for one i miss clouds. It always seemed to be cloudy there, which made for interesting skies to look up into. Here, it's just as i remember it: dead cloudless blue.

I wrote a good amount in my notebook as Ness and I crossed the states something i plan to put in here so i can see them when the notebook itself may be damaged or lost in the ethereal undulating waters of time. But for now my days are filled with gaming, cleaning and making this place a new temporary home before Japan comes screaming in, chewing up all the time i thought i had left to get ready for her. Right now that's my biggest fear; i spent so long just waiting and waiting, not believing it was ever going to happen that when it actually does i won't/don't have enough days to prepare myself for my new adventure. Like skipping out on all my sword practice thinking the final boss would never come to me and my small town, and sure enough he's at the front gate, grinning a green teeth smirk as he darkens my doorstep and knocks.

Bye VA

So few days of Virginia left, and i already know that i will miss the few accomplishments i achieved here.  The cute critters that wander the yards. I can't say for sure if i will miss the Atlantic, i didn't get to know her enough unlike my beloved Pacific, but i suspect somewhere along the blurred line of my retrospect vision there might be a glint of nostalgia for her one day. I will miss the people i met, even if i can't remember near half of the conversations we had or their names. The warm sudden rains, to the cold that tries its most to take your noes but can't reach the depth of frost it would need to do so. I will miss my bar, with one of the best Reuben sandwiches i have had and the always changing stock of beers. I miss my roommate Telly and our sometimes snarky eye to the world.

But mostly i will miss those enchanting firefly filled summer nights.

Pre-departure Syndrome

I have no more than three weeks left here in Virginia and i can tell there will be a melancholy scarf to hang on my neck; which i find odd in a small way. There wasn't a lot i did here, or accomplished, in fact most of if was idle time, but i think i might have stumbled on what it is that paints the bittersweet departure. When i "graduated" 8th grade and was ready to move on to High School, i remember on the last day of Elementary school i was excited, looking forward to school after summer had finished and my childhood freedom was once again returned to the state. As i walked home i made sure to not look back, somehow this little act at that young age was a trend i would continue for awhile intentionally or not, but there in the late June sun i told myself to not look back at what had been my first two years of living in a new town, where i made new friends and started my life in said town for the next 20 years.

When high school had ended and i made the walk back to the very same house i returned to after 8th grade, i didn't look back at the grounds then either. But both times there was a sting of regret, happiness, confusion, and zeal; which i have come to learn is simply described as: bittersweet. When i left California, my family, and my friends a little over a year ago no such sting showed, for i had made sure to squeeze out every enjoyment with everyone in the 6 months before i left; i didn't just left the golden years go by unbeknownst, i knew i was in them. So for my final days in California there was no need to look back, i didn't even think about it, my excitement to get on the plane and land in my new home was a pull strong enough to leave all longing at the sliding door that lead into the airport.

But now, with only three weeks left before i leave Virginia, possibly forever, i can detect that excitement and particular sadness that comes with knowing that life and I will be moving on and i know why. When i left 8th grade and high school i knew there would be a good number of people that i would never in my life see again. And there is someone here in Virginia that has a high probability i may never see again. That is Chantelle, my surrogate sister. The women i have known to close to eleven years and have i lived with for nearly more than half that time.  The sting is back, knowing one of the few women that i love with no sexual intent but purely as devoted protection, may leave my life. Sure, we will my stay in contact but we both know in a room next to each other sharing words, laughs and insults is our truest form.

To be absent from that presents of someone i feel at ease around is a lose not so great as to cry, but smile as i lament the possibility there may never be a time again when we are shoulder to shoulder judging our immediate world in front of us just for the laughs. When her and i say our farewells, the world will be a little less funny.

Ticking.

The official count down of Ness and i leaving Virginia and start anew in San Diego to wait out our last year in the States has begun. Japan is inking closer, yet somehow my enthusiasm hasn't jumped. Our days, these days, tend to be about more frequent chatting on about how we are going to clear the house and what we will be taking and when we should start packing, no action has been taken to actually do any of it as of yet. Mostly due to we don't leave for San Diego until August; so the rush of packing and moving is not needed.
What does have me excited is instead of boxing up our things, sending them to our new home (once we find a place) and then flying; is we plan to throw it all in a moving truck and driving across the country. An excursion i have never done before and one i am looking forward to, since it may be the only time in my life i get to do so. It's the great American road trip, wrote and romanticized by the first beatnik and Godfather of the counter-culture Jack Kerouac.

Heading off subject, or actually starting one; what is it about the road trip that entices American's so much? We have books about them and an over flowing catalog of movies that make them seem exciting and nearly romantic in the very act of moving across long spans of landscape and seeing sunsets over different mountains ranges other than the ones you grow up around. "To travel is joy. Passing witness of a rock, a river and a mountain in the beating heart of ones country is near the expression of love of seeing the adventure of life." A passage i once read in a book, who's title i have forgotten, yet i see what the author intended, but at the very heart: i don't. I lived in California, in the very middle of it and to get anywhere of real substance you will have to travel over an hour or three to get there. And i can say for myself only, that after the first thirty minutes i am already wishing our destination was closer. But i feel that is because i had been on those same roads numerous times. To this day i could drive from my hometown to my old home in Fremont without any reference as a map or a GPS, even if they changed the signs or closed down one of the major freeways, i could still manage to get there through other means than the main path. Digress.

Back when i traveled from CA to Salt Lake City for a wedding i was truly excited, for one at the time it was the furthest east i would have ever traveled, where before it was Death Valley. Once i had come down from the Sierra mountains and the long, lonely expanse of the desert opened up and then the ocean of the salt flats; i was ready to stop moving and just get to where we were going. I feel that somewhere on the road back to CA that will happen, that somewhere during our days on the road the excitement will cease and my longing to see the Pacific, to recognize her lovely curve of California's frame will grow to a thirst for our drive to end.

For man that has been waiting for more than two years to get things moving along; traveling is just more waiting, it may be waiting while moving forward, but i have seen the landscape, gazed at all the sights here it's time i see the next destination before we get to the last one.

The "story" of us.

A chill still runs down my spine when i remember that kiss. And not the real one, but the one i dreamed up; the one i wished had happened, the one that was perfect, the one that had meant something if only that something was for research, the experiment used and done for a legitimate reason as research. But much like everything the fake one is far more remembered than the real; the one i asked for, the one i asked to have again to help describe to no one. The tale i remember around the real, is far more odd than what had happened.

But somehow, i do not regret the real. It's the dream that makes me not hate the real. We kissed, i asked for another in that moment to help describe it later; in that moment i left my eyes open to burn the segment into the forgettable part of my head.

I told the tale from the part i made up, but both the fictitious and the real stick with me. I would prefer that the tall tale i made for us would stick more.

I love the fake part of us.

It's something at least.

I had intentions to post something else here, something already prepared, written and even edited, but once i stepped back into this place (my computer screen) my mind thought of something else: "an update" on my actual life. So here it is as plain as it's going to get.

My thanksgiving was spent with Telly and Ness, as was my Christmas eve and day, on the Eve Telly played World or Warcraft and both watched as i tried to play Super Mario World and continuously die. We had a good laugh, one of the more satisfying Christmas Eve's i have spent in a long time. I do miss my family and friends in CA, but luckily it hasn't gotten any harder missing them, though it hasn't gotten easier.

After the New Year i plan to really buckle down on my schooling considering Japan has gotten closer with the very real possibility that Ness and i will be going. I try not to think about it too much during the day, for fear that i get my hopes up too much and have it fail; Ness reassures me that we are going, but the doubt is there. At night it is different, i dream of Japan right before sleep comes in. This troubled me when i first started these pages, as if i was casting a delusion on myself, but that has slipped away, now it feels more as if i am actually preparing my heart for the change, for the upcoming adventure.

The rest of the time is filled with waiting for Japan, work, playing video games, waiting for other games to come out, being silly with Telly, drinking with Ness and preparing for the move, at this stage it's just verbal planning and that's about it.

This year (2013) has been one of the more pleasurable years in a long, long, god awfully long time.

I feel pretty damn good.

The terrible passing of time felt by a self-introverted moron.

As this year comes to a crawl of a close, still a few months away yet, but there is something slowly coming to the curtain call, and that is this current close on this generation of gaming consoles. Sure, you can give me your derision but i am a man that feels the passing of time should be marked by something, even if that mark is insignificant and moronic. Some people do it with big events, but for me; such a man that i am, games hold a fairly high regard in this aspect.

Yes, this generation of consoles have been the longest living as of date, but i feel that all of life should be marked by something, some do it by jobs, or marriage or kids, but the last great mark i had was graduating high school and the last generation of gaming consoles, such is the low of a man that doesn't do much. But the end of this era marks something within me. Something that not even i can scoff at. The end of this generation of gaming is; and even though i feel i had more fun on the previous generation, holds a regard i feel must be recorded here for all, but mostly likely just for myself; since i'm pretty sure i'm the only one that has ever and will ever read these pages. During the end of the PlayStation 2 era just when the wick was about done, i played some truly fantastic games. And i played those games with both Genesis and Mike in that ratty two bedroom apartment when time could be ignored and games and drinking were the norm for passing the time. Sure the next (at this time current) generation proved to be a little bit more oriented to getting more than one player on a game single game, but with the 360 and the Wii, i remember just being drunk and playing bowling or being up to the late hours of the night (or early morning) playing Call of Duty: World at War: Nazi Zombies with Genesis taking cigarette breaks and rethinking out strategy for the next time we beat our high score.

And these were great times. Greater than i had considered them of when i felt the loss of the American arcade. When arcades had come and gone, even in my early age there was a fair amount of lamenting, but it was never as deep seeded as this. The Wii, PS3 and 360 were, for me, held to a standard in which i formed many, many new friendships. I found new life in gaming in this generation and maybe that's all this is; an old man's (31) longing/feeling the passing of time. Lamenting for something once so loved.

But maybe it's just because i will no longer have those experiences with my two closes gamer friends, Genesis and Mike. My future could go either bleak or grand depending on how it goes from here. And it's that uncertainty that i dislike the most. Through games i miss my friends.  Before, gaming was a singular experience with the three of us, but when were there, in that time, we had a real and just chance to do it together. Sure we might have failed a few times in that, but we still had games we had with each other. DQ9, or even Borderlands 1 and 2.

I will miss that time with an intensity no one that isn't a gamer would understand.

The time rang

Easily...

It has been easily 10 years since the last time i felt jealous; of anything. Here i stand, sad and free and have that old demon squat on my shoulders. And i dont have any idea why he is back.

They aren't getting anything i have not experienced before, what they are expressing is not new to me, but my thoughts reflect that i wish for it again. To go through that emotional turmoil, to convey which i can not through words, but action. To tangle myself in another. To be free and bound.

I feel nauseous. It makes me nauseous. My god, i hate it. Have i not learned my lesson yet?

Can't i skip it? Can't this be past over?

I never get a second look. Just a bad, but fun-filled day. I smiled, i laughed, with everything i have, only to have it crash, and leave me with the pleasantness of a day well spent, and the sickness that i'm missing out on the important stuff.

Stuff, i gave up on; that i thought wasn't for me, that i thought i didnt need or want, but the brute of a sensation reminds me of what i cut off. The itch of a phantom limb.

Dislike fills me. I am suppose to not be this way, i ridicule those that have this reaction.

Fantastic, i am no better than they. The one and only thing i could hold up and say; the thing i was proud of; to find i am no better this one time. THIS one time, i am no better.

Have i really not learned my lesson? Can i not move on? i am continuously being forced to continue to go through this by those that don't romantically see me. Their selfishness stops my own selfishness.

The balance is off and the equivalent exchange is off by pounds, but i have to move; not forward just ahead. There is no destination for me in this. Just move along and just hope, and that is wearing very fuckin' thin.

Time repeats.

What is there for me to do? Finding myself once again living is a situation that is predicated on the fledgling feelings of two sporadic and seemingly none committed people, is not where i like to find myself. Do i hope them the best? Oh, that goes without question. Even with all i have said and or with all i have thought out loud; without love, what is the purpose of living? Sure, do i have a small disdain for things like "love" and "romance", you bet your ass i do, as far as i am concerned that shit is dead. And has been for a long time. Movies and hallmark cards have forever ruin the simple concept of love and have twisted it into this grotesque and unrecognizable creature AND that is the concept of love that i hate. I mean what ever happened to the idea of laying it bare and leaving it at that? What's with all the "saving" and always being there? Why does everyone ALWAYS need constant proof of such an strong emotion? Why don't simple words work anymore and why does it always have to be "proven"? I simply do not understand and it's fuckin' moronic.

Digress.

That particular feeling of being left in the wind has taken over and i'm trouble by this. How much longer do i have before this crashes around my ears and i'm left smiling as my world falls apart around me and i once again lose to someone else's whims? I've done this so many times, and i've been hurt by it far too many times, and at the end all i can do is smile at once again i was right, and that pain-filled smirk squirms across my face and i'm left with the satisfaction of both being right and filled with hurt.

It makes me feel like a villain. A villain that has actually completed his plans to destroy the world; I have done what i set out to do, but by god what have i done? Being right and hurt by being right is one of the more agonizing sensations there is. I'll take being cheated on by the girl i love, i'll take being tortured for information that i don't have; hell i even take the gut-retching info the girl i love doesn't love me, over the sensation of being right and being hurt by it. Being right is suppose to feel good. But when it comes to this kind of shit i dislike it.

The feeling that my plans are in jeopardy is the worst. But i fear for a friend of what i know to be true will hurt him. The next few months will either suck as they did when i first moved out of my parents house and i lost all those good, and just, friends but managed to keep a few, and i had to rewrite my life to what i thought was the good life and i was left almost homeless and penny-less but at least in the end i was right. Hahahaha! But i'm not 22 anymore, it's been nearly ten years since then; my hope is that time does not repeat itself. That was a hurt-filled time, not something i wish to go back to. But by god how i was right all along and how it hurt so much.

Wish fulfillment.

I dreamt of Japan again last night. And it's always such a lonely but blissful time in the dream. I'm always by myself when i dream up this place, but i'm i don't feel it. And i'm always walking and following music. Either i'm heading towards it or it's just with me, but music is always near my ear, but it's never a song i recognize. A premonition? Or just my mind conjuring what it hopes will happen?

There is no telling for now. But i wish to see those sights and hear those songs again.