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    This weekend I cried. It has been a while I must confess since I have actually wept. Years upon years of repressed emotion and heart piercing events have left me pretty inept in the crying department. There have been many instances as of late that should have dictated tears, but they never came. But when the Blackberry bussed and I read the email I couldn’t be bothered to hold it back anymore.

It confirmed what I had suspected for a few weeks now. God had seen fit to attempt to take away the one person I have meet in this lifetime that has made me feel at home. The one person who made me less alone in how I felt about the life cast upon me. The one person who’s personal stake in life was much harder than mine, and thus provided me a bit of perspective on what I felt was so bad in mine.

I could do little more than lie in bed, shades drawn, blankets covering, head buried in pillows, balling like a tiny babe. I didn’t want to see anyone, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to be alone and revel in this feeling that I was having. Equal parts, pain and sadness, and a sprinkling of hope and belief, permeated the whole of my being. I just couldn’t understand the scope of it all and struggled to wrap my head around the words I read over and over. And then I prayed.

Through the tears and through the whimpers I clutched my rosary and prayed. I implored with all of my heart for God to reverse the wheels he has thought so fit to set into motion. I asked for his wisdom to be reconsidered. It has come with much consternation that I can see as to why you would decide this is right in your grand scheme of things. I believe we all find ourselves asking why when massive events unfold in our lives, but this……this is too much. Why on earth would you decide to pile this on, at this time. Has she not given you enough, I mean what more than her life can she give. At this point nothing and at least I can see that you will never take her spirit. Nor will you take mine or that of those who care about her and want to see her persevere.

They say you have a plan and to trust in you, but I can’t see this. And if this goes off in the way in which it seems your planning, then I’m not sure how much longer I can follow you. I guess for now I will just trust that you will fix what you have bottled up, but even at that I am not sure I can follow you any longer. No one deserves  what you have cast upon her…….no one.

I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!

  • I hate the people I have hurt
  • I hate myself for always bending
  • I hate Rochester
  • I hate being adopted
  • I hate being so miserable that I leave the house only to eat shitty fast food
  • I hate the decisions I have made
  • I hate my lack of resolve
  • I hate my lack of self of control
  • I hate my friends
  • I hate my family (adopted and biological)
  • I hate being so depressed
  • I hate not finding any answers
  • I hate asking questions
  • I hate this cold weather
  • I hate it when Arsenal looses (or draws when they clearly outclass their opponent)
  • I hate that Johann Santana was traded
  • I hate being around so many white people
  • I hate my birthmother
  • I hate people telling my to be happy that I was adopted
  • I hate being so alone
  • I hate sleeping alone
  • I hate everything
  • I hate that I am so angry and hate so much
  • I hate this identity crisis I seem to be having ( should I be more white, more yellow, more hood, more suave, more chipper, more anything)

This list could go on forever but whats the point. I would hate dislike very much to perpetuate this theme any longer. I guess I just felt like being a whiny cunt tonight. But it’s my blog and I have the right to be.

I sit here night after night with these papers before me. They are all sprawled out in a semi-circle like foot soldiers protecting their general. Yet they provide no cover at all. If anything they only allow the slings and arrows of this onslaught through, piercing me with every blow.

The words never change. The information stays the same. As it reads I am another bastard child of a broken social scene. The facts of what you were and what you remain to me are clear with each and every day. And yet one more tear falls on my little army that lay before me.

I look to them every day, scouring for new revelations, but nothing comes. Not one of my little minions steps forward to take responsibility. “Show yourself you coward” I curse over and over at these tiny, insignificant, weak men. I shout and I rustle, hoping that someone will jump out, that some one will come forth. And then I realize.

Those who I have scorned are not responsible for this plight. They are not the ones who have cast this dark clod over me. No it is not the ones who I have laid out to fight that are to blam. It’s me. After all of these years of fighting and strife, after all of the blood that has been shed, after all of the battles fought, the one who is the cause for all of this malice is me.

So the noble commander steps down from his perch atop his mighty stallion and comes back to earth. He sets foot on the the same ground that he himself has been to proud to tread upon; yet was so eager to send out man after man to die for. He kneels down and begs the gods to deliver some reprieve for his wicked actions, but to no avail is he granted his wish. His enemy will not strike him down. not like this. They can see in his eyes and in the way he no carries himself that this man is deemed not guilty. His actions were not his own, but that of a man possessed. No this will not be the day that this once highly decorated man is left to die.

War torn and stricken with grief, the commander is left to ride another day. His enemy is in hope that he may not be so zealous, so callous in his accusations when tomorrow comes. He is ashamed at what he has become and fears for what he will be. Not knowing what the future holds drives him mad, but he is grateful that he is afforded the opportunity to reflect and repent, and that tomorrow will come.

The tears are steaming now, bursting forth like a river after a spring rain. There is no one to blame, no one to fight, all that is left is a journey. A long road home awaits for his men, but not for him. Even though this battle is over our soldier knows that there is nothing to go back to. There will be no ticker tape parade for this disgraced man, no wife waiting, no warm bed to lie in. He knows that it was necessary at the time if he were to wage this war, but he looks back and regrets burning that place he called home.

And he walks with horse in hand down that same path that many before him have traveled. The footprints are unfamiliar and the road signs are barely readable; he is alone. He will not let his horse carry him. No longer will her let anyone else shoulder his burden. This is his price. He alone must forge this path and discover what it means to him. Left only with his thoughts, he must decide what to do and where to go. Scared he is for what lies ahead and shameful of what at his back he puts one foot in front of the other.

So what will become of this scared broken man. What of the answers he sought in this conquest for glory. What of the life he left tattered and worn. There is no one that can say what will become of him. But the certainty that he has a tomorrow is promising. That in and of itself should be enough for any man. Unfortunately for this man it probably will never be enough.

    Well White Day is almost upon us and for this little blogger it will actually be White Day’s emo cousin Black Day that will be celebrated in cold upstate New York. As we all know White Day is the holiday celebrated in Korea one month after Valentines day (where in an aberration to how we do it here in the states, women actually give men the chocolate). In a show of gratitude, on White Day the men present the women a more refined (and usually more expensive) token of their appreciation and affection. Finally Black day is also celebrated on the 14th of March in a show of single-hood. A celebration of being single and all the joys that encompass a life less shared with some your love. (sigh)

Since I am in such a position where I neither received chocolates on Valentines Day, nor do I have a special someone in my life, I shall be taking full advantage of Black Day. That is of course unless any of you readers out there would like to set me up with someone. Or hey maybe you yourself want to have a lavish date with yours truly. (Just throwing it out there ladies)

So if you have any suggestions or any phone numbers you want to send my way, I am more than happy to oblige any requests. If not then hey, I’ll be enjoying my Jajangmyeon.

Happy Black Day!!!

Lately i have felt as if my bearings are a little off, as if the compass points south when it should be pointing north. My mind and my heart are following two different points in this forked path. I know which way I want to go (or do I?) but my feet keep walking the tired worn path.

A compass is a pretty simple device ya know. Using magnets, the the natural field of magnetism that encompasses our earth, the little arrow will always finds north. So no matter where you are you’ll always be able to find you way, simple right. Well mine seems to be broken, or at the very least I can’t seem to read it right.

I tried going to church again, but God doesn’t seem to be revealing himself in a manner in which I can comprehend. I tried reading more books, with the thought that the classics might have known something about this life of mine, that didn’t work. I try just being alone with my thoughts, so that I might be able to sift through the mire, and what a bunch of bollocks thats turned out to be. Nature, maybe nature is the answer. So I sat out amongst the trees and snow and sun, nope, nothing. Ok then the bottle is always a good place to find some clarity, ( just a side note: getting on the drink never gets you anywhere) well all I have to show is a sore tummy.

So what’s up? What is a lost man supposed to do when the pillars on which he stood have crumbled and left him with nothing but rubble.

-Some shouts from the back say, “Pick yourself up son and build again”

-Others suggest, ‘The vantage point from the bottom is advantageous when mapping your way to the top”

-Finally squabbles emanate from the middle of the crowd declaring, ” Bitch! Give up. You’re not what you think, you’re a fraud”

Well fair enough to all of you who felt the liberty to just chime in like that. A bit of constructive input never hurt anybody. Well except me of course, I have a tendency for being a bit sensitive, not to mention thick headed. And lord only knows that if I didn’t come up with it first, well then it’s garbage. Absolute shite I say. But wait just a minute. Is this not what I have been going on about. All the things I used to know or all the choices I have made haven’t worked to this point, right? Right, well then fuck I’m done. I through my hands up.

I just needed to write something. This really doesn’t read well, but I suppose I don’t care so much.