I just can’t believe it’s over.

I have few regrets. And I kinda wanted it to last forever. Yet, nothing really does, does it?

We’ve reached the end. It’s a natural end. The end of the road.

Things won’t improve. We are both mired in our lives. And it’s okay.

I am forever grateful. For a moment, you were my girl. You’re sensational. Incredible. And I am glad we shared so much in so little time.

Time. It is time. You’re content with your life. Yet I find it… restraining. I can’t play small. You’re not interested in growing. In rising up.

Everything is black or white for you. Looking back, maybe I was the same way at that age. No third way. No grey.

You are not yet capable. And I cannot stay. Adventure calls. Always calling.

I made the mistake of making you my adventure. What a burden that must have been! You played the role like a star. Too much? Maybe. At times.

A bond formed between us. Ironclad. There’s no animosity between us. It’s simply time.

Time to drift apart. A conclusion I arrived at while compiling a list of reasons to stay together. The irony isn’t lost on me.

And perhaps, one day, we’ll meet again.

Perhaps. I’d like that.

Bye.

Today, I’m okay.

I’m okay with continuing without her in my life. After all, what else really changes?

I read something terrifying today. Something I had written. About a prior breakup. And home ownership. About keeping “those bloody dreams at bay.”

Really? Really.

Reading it made me recall my mindset of that time. Work. Make money. Own a home.

Make my dad proud. Lawn mowing and all.

Today, I am no longer employable. I see too much. I see the flaws in the system. And I can’t fake it.

I need the dreams. I need to realize them. Make money.

My dad’s gone. My mom’s gone. My girl’s as good as gone. No one is coming to save me.

No one is coming to stop me, either.

Honestly, I don’t know what she’s thinking. She has a lot going on—all of which I’m fully aware of. She doesn’t believe. Everything is either black or white. There are no shades of grey. No path from there to here.

So, it is time. Time for me to go. To proceed with life. With or without her.

Will I be sad? Yes. For a while. A long while. Yet, I learned long ago we cannot make others do anything. If she doesn’t believe she can join me on this adventure, I cannot convince her.

Well, here we are.

Life. And silence. Enjoying the sunrise. Working on myself again. Kicking a li’l ass. Magnificence in the mundane. One breath at a time.

And with fewer distractions. For now, I don’t want anyone else. For now.

What i'm listening to:

Out the Window
Kehlani
Out the Window

For the last decade, I’ve watched less and less television.

Honestly, real life is far more interesting.

Seeing someone who isn’t quite on the same journey… adjusts that slightly.

One thing she enjoys is watching Grey’s Anatomy together in bed.

I get it. It’s an interesting show. At least it was in the beginning. Before it got more and more dramatic. But I digress.

Typical formula. You love a character. Character becomes a dumbass. You hate a character. Character grows. You love a character again. Everyone is sleeping with everyone. Everyone is talking about everyone. Drama. More drama.

Except one. One character on this program has stood out to me. Because he doesn’t talk about others. It’s a boundary of his. If we all had this boundary, the world would be a better place. And more interesting, albeit in different ways. He still goes in and out of becoming a dumbass, but this quality redeems him.

“It’s not my story to tell.”

There is value in being able to trust someone. Even if it is only one person.

I know this is part of her fascination with me. I am her McDreamy.

She can remove her masks. She can rest easy with me. She can share with me. Anything.

And she knows it.

Do we really ever learn? Anything? Really change?

Evolve?

Things stay the same. We love each other. We deceive each other. We deceive ourselves.

Life is hard. And it’s exorbitant. And we try to deceive ourselves about that too.

We seek to understand. Everything. But there is nothing to understand.

Just because we are aware of our own lives—this separates us from most of nature—doesn’t mean nature gives a shit about us. It plants this narrative that we can affect nature.

Yet, ultimately, we cannot. Stand up to that approaching tornado. Show it who’s boss.

And we lie. Lord, how we lie. Maybe truth is a fantasy.

I read something profound the other day.

Most “relationship problems” aren’t problems. They’re symptoms of one disease. Dishonesty.

For several generations, we’ve been taught to help others. To protect others. To take care of them before we even take care of ourselves.

We fall in and out of love. Do we really? What even is “love?” The contact of two chemical substances? Where if there is any reaction, both are transformed?

Or is it simply... manipulation?

Sometimes, it’s instant. That girl. Who talks to you with her eyes. The two of you have a conversation no one else can hear.

Her touch. It isn’t electric, as the poets would make you believe. It’s grounding. The energy saves you instead of elating you.

Although, there are those moments too.

But there’s our pasts. Our lifestyles. Consequences of decisions we made in the past. Not necessarily good nor bad, but influencing nonetheless.

“Lord, I wish I was stupid. They seem so happy.”

Indeed, the less aware seem to have fewer problems with life. They love easier. They figure things out as they go without worrying about “that dreadful mistake.” Is this what school has taught us? What isn’t right, must be wrong. And if you can’t get it right, you’re fired. Canceled. Alone.

This isn’t learning. This is prison. No wonder we’ve all learned to be helpless. We can’t seem to evade the electric shocks, so we just lie down. We let the shocks penetrate us as we lie asleep.

We let life wash over us, unable to do a thing. Why bother? Does anything we do matter? Anecdotal evidence suggests... no.

At least we have relief from this helplessness. A magical chemical that washes away the lies. The deceit. The pain. A truth serum that allows us to show someone how we really feel. To make decisions we’ve avoided. To lure us into adventure we might, otherwise, have overlooked. Real. Psychological. Sexual.

And we crave the attention. We all crave the attention of someone who doesn’t match that expectation. And we’ll settle for someone who gives us that level of attention, but at a price. Our hearts? Our souls? Our love? Yes. Just for the thrill. The hit.

Does she love me? Or does she just want something from me?

Is this even a fair question? We all want something from someone. We are all getting to know each other.

Other people make it all worthwhile, yet can also take everything away. The price of billions of people learning to live together and never learning that you can never make anyone do anything.

Hence the dishonesty. The lies. The numbness.

Can you imagine a technology that reveals one’s secrets upon death? Not dissimilar to the HR department and upper management taking three weeks to scour an employee’s computer upon termination, is this a true glimpse inside a person’s soul?

The shadows. The abyss. The lies we tell ourselves, because we so desperately want them to be true. To be validated. The attention. The adoration.

The love.

I don’t know the answer. I suppose none of us do. So, nothing will ever really change. The system we have constructed to control people will continue to ruin lives. As individuals we will care less and less. We’ll isolate from the world and slowly go insane. If we’re lucky, we’ll isolate with someone we love—if love even exists.

We cannot thrive alone. We cannot help ourselves to destroy each others lives to meet our own ends. There is always a reason to end it. After all, it all ends. Another lie we tell, is that immortality—legacy—is achievable.

All we crave is that reason to be here.

I’ll say goodbye to love
No one ever cared if I should live or die
Time and time again the chance for love has passed me by
And all I know of love
Is how to live without it
I just can’t seem to find it

So I’ve made my mind up
I must live my life alone
And though it’s not the easy way
I guess I’ve always known
I’d say goodbye to love

There are no tomorrows for this heart of mine
Surely time will lose these bitter memories
And I’ll find that there is someone to believe in
And to live for something I could live for

All the years of useless search
Have finally reached an end
Loneliness and empty days will be my only friend
From this day love is forgotten
I’ll go on as best I can

What lies in the future
Is a mystery to us all
No one can predict the wheel of fortune as it falls
There may come a time when I will see that I’ve been wrong
But for now this is my song

And it’s goodbye to love
I’ll say goodbye to love

What i'm listening to:

Goodbye to Love
The Carpenters
A Song for You

What did we do before the internet?

I suppose we believed people a lot more.

Yesterday, someone spent three minutes trying to convince me that Woody Allen had died.

This morning, upon waking, I was curious. Enter Google.

Spoiler: as of the time of this post, he’s still with us.

My hobby: Walk up beside someone and say, “All I wanna do is have a little fun before I die.”

My, the looks I get. Mostly, WTF looks. And a lot of confusion.

Is this funny? I think it’s hilarious. Apparently, I am the only one. Even friends who have heard of Sheryl Crow, and are familiar with the song, give a blank stare.

Yet, the sentiment is true.

Sigh. All I want to do is have a little fun before I die…

What i'm listening to:

All I Wanna Do
Sheryl Crow
Tuesday Night Music Club

Men are entering a new phase. Love me right, or leave me alone. No in between.

No more confusion. No mixed signals. No half effort connections. Clarity or nothing.

You either bring peace. Respect. Consistency. Or you bring distance.

Because “almost” love drains more than loneliness ever will.

Hot and cold? Gone. Uncertain energy? Gone. Emotional games? Dead.

Men are done negotiating for basic standards. What’s simple should be natural. Not forced.

If it feels like work just to feel secure, it’s not love. It’s maintenance.

Love me right, or don’t be around me at all. I’m not here for confusion anymore.