Subliminal's blog: "Subliminal Lies"

nine inch nails.the great below
staring at the sea. will she come? is there hope for me. after all is said and done. anything at any price. all of this for you. all the spoils of a wasted life. all of this for you. all the world has closed her eyes. tired faith all worn and thin. for all we could have done. and all that could have been. ocean pulls me close. and whispers in my ear. the destiny i've chose. all becoming clear. the currents have their say. the time is drawing near. washes me away. makes me disappear. and i descend from grace. in arms of undertow. i will take my place. in the great below. i can still feel you. even so far away. i can still feel you. even so far away...

So... Another one of those odd sort of days, but this one is filled with a sense of longing. not the cold acceptance that everything is damned. i long for all those things i've convinced myself don't exist, that i don't want. love and family and children... yeah, i kinda want a kid right now. but it'll pass, it always does. hell, right now, i can't even think clearly. it's all scattered, like the diamond stars across the night sky. those holes in the black paper.

i want to believe in the easter bunny, and i want to believe in love. and yes, Virginia, I want to believe in santa claus. i want to be eight years old again with the whole world before me. back when things were simple. maybe not simple, but easy and carefree. and i kinda want to do what it takes to go back there... even if it means starting the whole damn mess over. but i'm not one for the theory of reincarnation. if i knew then, what i know now? if i had some vague idea what my future would turn into, i would've done a few things differently. i may not have any regrets in my life, i may not change one specific thing... but i'd like a new life. a new chance. i want to hit RESET goddamnit. i like to say, well, i'm only 27... plenty of time to change things, but you know the truth of the matter is, it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks. it's hard. maybe not impossible, but it's fucking hard. and i'm lazy.

i'm apathetic.

I don't care anymore. I do, but at the exact same time, i don't give an ass rat's. maybe that's why it is that i avoid people, and stay buried in my books and movies... they're all someone elses life. and i can ignore mine. i can not focus on it and think on it, and just block it the fuck out. which is my biggest problem. i avoid everything.

like, okay. i haven't really felt "pain", in an emotional sense of the word in a long time, because i take it, i put it in a jar, and i bury that motherfucker. done it for years upon years... and there it is. i've done it for so long, i don't know what else to do. how to process it. how to deal with it and cope with it. i ignore it, i brush it off and go on. and there are days, like today, where a few of these beasts are able to break out of their jars, crawl out of the sand, and jump on me. like those weird lobster beasts in The Dark Tower ... The Gunslinger, in particular. NONETHELESS. And it all happens on those days where everyone is busy with their lives, which is at the same time, why it happens. because i don't have that distraction, which is the best of all. i guess it's just kind of the way the cookie crook crumbles, so i'm left here alone to deal with it. and by the time someone comes along, who will listen, i've got most of the jars buried, and don't feel like dealing with it, so i ignore it. fun how that works, ain't it? yeah, i thought so. but it is interesting, and i'd love to be someones final thesis in their psych course. it'd be entertaining. i'd like a shrink that i could actually talk to, without their life or some other bullshit imposing.

see, there's the catch. people say they want me to open up and that they want to listen, which is all well and good, but when it comes down to it, they have their own shit, and understandably, i get pushed to the side. the thing is, i can't sum it up in 20 minutes, or even probably 20 hours... so, what should i do? write a book, a kind of autobiography, for people to read when they have the time, where i can pour my heart and soul and blood and sweat and tears into. that'd be fun. it'd be a goof. a primer for any potential mates. of which there aren't or won't be any, but hey... so be it. it could be interesting. like, "here, before you say you want to be my friend, read this..." then, they'd probably find out how fucking neurotic i am and run away. i actually think that on the whole, i keep myself pretty well together. but, from the outside, i might still be that kid OD'ing on acid at the mall... which is a fun story, let me tell you, but now is not the time for it. actually, that time in my life is where it all went really very wrong. yeah, probably. the first 2-3 weeks of January, 2000. hmph. it's been 9 and a half years. Can you fucking believe it? and since then, outside of maybe a year or two, i've been kind of spiralling outward and down. But, what does it really matter?

what does any of this really matter in the long run? which yes, is what it all, always boils down to. here we are, with only this one shot at life, and pfft, it goes by so quick. it's kind of ... i don't know, insane. really. it's hard to believe this is the only shot we have. i'll never have this day again. or yesterday. or the day before. but i can tell you, tomorrow will probably be just the fucking same. well, tomorrow won't be, but the day after? just the fucking same. it's a cycle, and it keeps repeating. and if that's the case, then what's the point in even dealing with tomorrow? or the day after? its interesting, but i can't find a reason, other than the idealistic nonsense of "hope"... hope that it will be different. that it will change, that i'll find that one special dame, and live happily ever after... but then, there's the past experiences. the 27 years up to this point, which tell me, it's not going to fucking happen. but in theory, i have 60 more years to go. what can happen in them? it's interesting, i see myself as the old codger, yelling at kids. no, actually, i don't see myself living too very much longer. a few years, maybe. six months, minimum. but i'm sure i've already gone into this. i know i have, in past thingees, so i won't waste my time. it's just...

i'm scared. i'm scared that the clock is ticking down. that all this bullshit i've endured (most of it self-inflicted, yes) has been for naught. kinda sad, isn't it? maybe. it is to me, i doubt any of you give a good goddamn. that's okay, i don't expect you to. i don't expect anything from anyone. less disappointment that way...

nine inch nails.even deeper
i woke up today. to find myself in the other place. with a trail of my footprints, from where i went away. seems everything i've heard just might be true. you know me, well you think you do. sometimes i have everything. yet i wish i felt something. do you know how far this has gone? just how damaged have i become? when i think i can't overcome. it runs even deeper. in a dream i'm a different me. a perfect you we fit perfectly. for once in my life i feel complete. and i still want to ruin it. afraid to look. as clear as day. this plan has long been underway. i hear them call i cannot stay. the voice inviting me away. do you know how far this has gone. just how damaged have i become? when i think i can overcome. it runs even deeper. everything that matters is gone. all the hands of hope have withdrawn. could you try to help me hang on. it runs... i've straight. i won't crack. on my way and i can't turn back. i'm okay. i'm on track. on my way and i can't turn back. i've stayed. on this track. gone too far, and i can't go back. i've stayed on this track. lost my way. can't go back. i've stayed on this track. gone too far. and i can't go back. i've stayed. on this track. lost my way and i can't go back...

yeah, i was going to include a fun little story about ... well, my birth or almost-lack-there-of, but hey... i'm not in the mood for stories about my past anymore. it's just the way shit happens. but yeah... the hands of hope have withdrawn... later, kids.