Somewhere between the left and right ventricle I see something very strange. Words. They are written terribly small - in a very smart script. It looks like the words were written with some kind of wood engraver, burned straight into the flesh. I can almost smell it burning, as the artist slowly scarred the soft and delicate tissue. The words mark ownership; they strike eternity at its core. The heart now belongs to that small phrase, those words - that name. As the wound becomes calloused and scabbed the heart learns its most important function - churning my wild life, for him.

"If the world asks you who you are and you don't know - the world will tell you"- Carl Jung. This idea entitles one to believe in nothing - at all. I think its crap. I guess it's an interesting idea... However, in a world when everyone is trying to make you just like everybody else - wouldn't believing in this simply eliminate originality... allowing the world to declare YOUR true sense of being? When I open my doors to the world, I end up with drifters, bullshit ideas and garbage. This doesn't make me a strange, prejudiced miser - it makes me human.

Here I am, another day - another year. I am repeating the same mistakes I have made for years. Is there something wrong with me or am I just a really fucking slow learner? I truly think I lack the confidence in myself. I feel frustrated and let down. I feel angry - angry at my disregard. I don't think he can even begin to understand how I make ME feel. I feel like a moron - and he thinks I'm taking my sweet time. I'm not, really. I hate the way I work, its schizophrenic. I know I've written this before, somewhere.

I have a black and white image of the Seine River; Le Pont-Royal is in the background, gray and fading from the sun. The water of the river seems to ripple with shiny shards of glass. Through the full hanging branches you can see the love that ebbs from their embrace. His arms wrapped around her, they sit on the shore. Her body is turned to him; she graciously absorbs all that he gives. The date is 1957. It's innocent. Could they have imagined that anyone would gaze adoringly at this embrace, long after it was gone? Love in Paris.

I started seeing a therapist again today. There are definitely moments when I ask myself, how did I end up this way?! Then there are those times when I feel like I attribute too much drama to my mundane life. She said I have a commitment problem, I lack follow-through. It's true. I watch people my age getting engaged, married, and having children... I really do want those things, with the right person. What is it then? Where does my issue stem from - I don't trust myself. I don't trust my heart. That seems like a true case of insecurity...

I realized today that I have no defining moments. You know them... when you're asked to stand up for what you believe or you declare your love for the un-favored mate. Those moments that help to show the world what we're made of; I lack them. It was a sad realization. Instead of those moments I see myself collecting things... friends that don't really know me, shoes that are uncomfortable to wear. I get trapped in the dogma of a psychopathic society, one that simply wants someone to stand up and declare the soul underneath... and I continue to sit.

I'd start on the soft skin above the collar bone, slowly moving for his ear. Running my tongue up his neck, I feel him get tense underneath me... I want to run my hands along his chest, undo his shirt - but I don't. Anticipation. He starts to breathe fast; sinks his fingers into my lower back, moving for my ass. When our mouths finally hit, we unleash. I move quickly for his shirt, still kissing. I press my thigh into him; I can feel how hard I make him. He is so incredible.... I shouldn't think this way in church...

It's late, later than I had intended to sleep. I should get up. I don't. Last night was... interesting. Throwing a party for an ungrateful friend is always a treat. Let's not do that again. Pulling the covers up over my head, I arch my back and I pretend he's spooning me... I always liked it when he'd pull me close, breathe in my hair. In a strange way, it made me feel as if I had a purpose. Today, my purpose will be cleaning the bathroom. I should get up. He's not actually here, I hate the "pretend game".

I mess with my iPod. I look up, noticing that the guy across from me is staring. I'm irritable, I want to take my earphones out and ask him what he's looking at. I don't. I stare at him for a long moment, eyes to eyes - as if to say, don't fuck with me, dude. My eyes leave him.... and then I see him. He is small and hunched over, his argyle socks sticking out from his jeans. His hands shaking so badly, he clung to the pole. My heart sank. What was the world like, when he was 25?

"Speak into my good ear..." Please don't lose your faith in me, as most days I struggle to have my own. Please don't doubt me; when I have no backbone, you share yours. When I feel like a mess, you give me hope. When I feel the person within me is a stranger - you recount every little piece. When I look at my future, I see your smile. When I see my children, they have your eyes. Please don't lose your faith in me. I may seem hopeless - yet, I promise to make you the happiest man in the world.

"You'll know "it"when it happens,"she said. Hmm. What if I don't? What if my blind-ass misses it? What if I am too busy looking for "it"in places where it doesn't exist, and I miss what should apparently be - very obvious to me? What if they're all insane? What if they think they know what they're talking about, and it simply takes a bit of faith? This small morsel of advice is coming from someone who almost married a gay man, how is she a reliable intuition? My intuition somehow already knows what I truly want. Blind intuition.

What if you were offered a choice in life? You could either live out your life - mildly happy, doing things that were interesting; having children, traveling, and all the while standing next to a person that is wonderful. What if the alternative to this was a short life, but a life full of passion, wonder and excitement? There are things that you will miss out on, but your time on earth will be the happiest moments ever known to man. You would be crowned, officially, "the happiest person on earth-. Which would you choose? Would it be a difficult choice?

Blank. I opened it, the only time in history that it will happen and it was as white as snow. I wanted it to fill up with something, something interesting and memorable - a smile, a laugh or even a frown. I opened it and it was empty. There should not be any moments void of recognition, life is too short for this. This should be crammed, no spaces, no periods or commas. I opened a year ago, it was full of red. No red. It was a hard thing to do, harder to close it - then it was to open.

Self-inflicting, that's what I would call it. Everything that is so confusing, painful and overly draining - these are self inflicted wounds. Wound. I'm afraid to pull my hand away from the hole. It has worked thus far to leave my hand where it is - it has worked to hold in the excess overflow of emotion. If I pull it away, I'm not really sure what will happen. It's likely that nothing will happen and maybe life will carry on as normal - but, what if it doesn't? Perhaps the wound will bleed out, spilling - and then everyone will see my mess.

There is a hole in my heart that can't be filled with anything but you. I'm not really sure what it is what keeps me away and apart. What is it that requires so much thought, so much energy. Driving home, driving away - where do I find the quiet? It's there, somewhere. Quiet in my head. I hear the buzz of the electrical wires, the heat of the day and the crying cicadas. I see moonlight and stars, black and white - that's what it is. Radio towers, north and guiding light - sputnik. I'd cheat destiny just to be near you.

I looked at my hands and waited. I watched as my world turned upside down, changed forever. It comes rushing back, however, now it's the simple assurance that I know my heart. It's strange to think that I knew. I knew before the small sign showed up in the tiny little window. I knew before it showed up the second, third and fourth time. I would have given anything to have him there - just to have him look at me, with that simple gaze that always calms the storm. I followed that course, alone. It was a year ago, today.

There are days when I have absolute assurance that I am living the wrong life. I hear a small little bit of a tune and I think to myself that there is someone else out there - living a life that keeps rhythm to it. At first its just a beat, something to make me bob my head and then I hear the lyrics. Rearrange me, no. So, I do have a life to live - so, perhaps I haven't been wrongly placed. Change me, no. Simply finding the one beat, I have been sitting down too long. I have my own.

I stare at the wall. Are the hands on that clock even moving? I look to the walls, they are closing in. What can I say? I'm sad today, sad since you went away. It seems that no matter what I try, it feels like there's something missing inside. Exit strategy, that's what she calls it. Alone is not where I want to be. Why do I keep circling around? Alone is the last place I want to be. Make an entrance, get rid of the roads. Down one just far enough to feel the swell, always pushing it away.

I've never felt this way before. Really baby, I'm easy to please. Try your best. Do I ever really get what I need? Instincts and intuition. Make a decision and stick with it. I love you more than I did when you were mine. Everyone says that you know when you're in love, can you be in love - and not know it? Of course, you always realize it. One day it just hits you in the ribs and you want to get sick, instead you smile. One of those slow, creeping smiles - before you know it, the world has changed.

Apricots. Black sunglasses and gigantic smiles. I made it through that day because I knew how incredible he was. I couldn't take my eyes off of him - it seems like that was ages ago. It was innocent. It was the beginning of the leaving, and it hurt. I had a suitcase full of hidden little emotions, I wonder if he understood that then. I remember how he used to be, if only I'd thought of the right words. Then it was only a song, now I really feel that I have been looking too long at these pictures. Of you.

Good God, is this month ever going to end? I had a dream last night; I was standing on top of a tall building. It was a party of sorts, a party for the developer. Dad. We were looking over the city, but there were buildings I didn't recognize. We watched as a building fell, and then another. Soon we saw 5 or 6 buildings falling and a panic covered the crowd. Will this building fall? People started rushing for the stairs, trying to get out. I was with my sister, her children. Nothing was happening and yet everyone panicked.

Work harder at it. Be content, just allow it to be. Don't overanalyze. If at some point, you realize that this isn't what you want, suck it up. What the fuck is that? In some miraculous twist of fate, they made it. That doesn't mean that I don't have a choice. Perhaps I am Miss Halfway, but at least I still have control by not making... any decisions. Same way.. and nothing. Since when am I so annoyingly passive? Of all of the things I wanted for myself, I never thought I'd see this development. This is dÃÆ'©jÃÆ'  vu - again.

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other peoples thinking. Don't let the noise of others; opinions drown out your inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."Added to the pile of wisdom, but not as easy to apply. The cowardly lion, the engine that could. Or couldn't, place your bets here. I wouldn't make anyone rich - I would advise against bets.

Where would you be, who are you - without the scars and the heels that stepped on you; which you cling to with all of your strength? Let go, free fall. It's scary, I know - to forgive all. Let go, I'll catch you. Understand what must be done. You can keep on drinking and never drown out where you've been. I'll catch you. There is an armor of protection that he can see right through; I know he will catch me. Let go and free fall - its scary I know, to forgive all the devils. Let go, I'll catch you.

I've been staring at the screen for a while today, just can't seem to get around to the cursor. I usually approach this with a thought, something that has affected my day, my night - my dreams. Something that evokes some kind of emotion from me, without them - I produce nothing. Perhaps the thought of being emotionless creates an emotion. I've been accused of this before, I think I am a master of covering up my emotions - don't be fooled. When you think I have nothing to say, I do. I always have something to say - don't be fooled by me.

Your mind is always changing; you say so all the time. Don't know how long you're staying, that will be your choice - not mine. You want whatever is far, I hear the words you're saying - I'm learning you by heart. I will know you by heart. There is no taking time, it's always moving time. Moving time? Bull shit. I see past the wit, way past the laughter lines. I see right into you - I will learn you by heart, after all - you are a puzzle. One piece here, one piece there. Shouldn't I know all of this by now?

I'm so tired of January, I could puke. It starts out exciting and fresh - the promise of tomorrow! Before you know it, you're three weeks in, strapping on your boots and waiting for the sun to come out. Waiting for the gumption. It was New Years Eve, I was young. We were young. It wasn't the end all of all - and I'm not going to write as if he's reading. I'm exhausted by feeling irresponsible and decision-less. That isn't the case though, I can make decisions. I have. I'm just so fucking tired of January. File a complaint, get out.

I couldn't get over the way she looked at him. She was gorgeous, of course, perfect - the definition of beautiful. It was her look though, the way she beamed with happiness. What does she see? What is it that has her so mesmerized; she doesn't even seem to notice the hundreds of eyes that are locked on her... I follow her gaze, and something inside me rolls over. There are some of those left over strings that snap, the training wheels fall off. It's a smile, eyes filled with tears. Its an amazing connection - and all at once I understand.

There is no fighting for anything that doesn't leave you with a sense of... dread? I don't know if that is right. I would say fear. You're not really sure how it will be received, whether your stance will be understood. There is no fighting that doesn't reveal a deeper layer. Peel them back and watch the train of thought leading to that one small breakthrough, the conductor. It must be scary there - seeing it all come at you so fast. Once you get rolling, you can't stop. Changing tracks now is too difficult. Unwarranted. I don't want to explain.

"Off the beaten path"— definitely not in the guidebooks. Its secretive charm is quite obviously the whole point. Happened upon this spot by chance, practically on a whim. Get away from it all. All in all, this is a well kept secret, a throwback to the days before... you. Charm, the way of life. Physical condition. Calm and peaceful bay and the road stops. The influence on our minds of relaxation... Waking up at dawn, walking. Just take a break in peace. Unforgettable. I would have never imagined. Connect, unleash. Wake up and do it again. That would be heaven.

I don't think that I ever truly understood what it was, this love thing. Thing. Its relatively easy to love someone - but to understand what it entails means much more than simply acting on it... it means acting on it. This took a long time, to know my heart well enough to give a definitive answer. There is not a yes - there is not a no... there is only so much of one thing that can be done at once. When it doesn't even out - it leaves a resentful little rash. I scratch it and I look up - and out.