sebastianorion

[sebastianorion]

HELLO OLD FRIEND 

How I’ve missed you but also been so glad we’ve been apart, I haven’t been getting my words out, maybe because I finally feel heard in places besides a digital page. Feeling more alive but knowing that means death will be harsher than before. Reminding myself of my own mortality and that of those around me. Times New Roman doesn’t look as good as it did earlier in the page. Time has passed and things have changed and other things have stayed the same, some things have left and others have come but I don’t know about all of it and I am glad I don’t. I remember what I want to know and I throw away what I don’t. I am about to move into my grandparents home, my safe haven and sanctuary. Nothing has ever harmed me there and I wait for the day something will and I know I will be fine with it. Chasing around my cat and a lengthy shadow that has been playing tricks on me. I have the weekend off and I stopped thinking of you at the perfect time. I have finally repieced myself and it took a while but I knew I could do it. I give these pieces away and I finally have enough pieces to keep for myself. Finally I feel better, I realized it in September, it is November now and there isn’t any snow around or in sight. I know it will sneak up on us towards the end of the month, the beginning of December is the deadline, it’s just procrastinating at this point and I don’t blame them. I feel fine now. I feel fine now. I have to keep telling myself this because I don’t know if I am able to really convince myself anymore, I need that constant reassurance because I was infected with it from someone else a long time ago. It's funny how those things transfer over and plague others with the same simple things you don’t even know you need. I know I need this and so I try to get it anyway I can, trying my hardest not to pass this on any further. All of my text is self indulgent I’ve realized, just because I needed it up until this point, maybe I will need it again but until then I think I will write with a different point in mind. I don’t know yet what that will be but I will find it soon. Or I won’t and will continue still. Really just like Zeno I have finished my study, no doctor will surmise this and give me my final prescription. I have finished ! Until I start again and I’ve already made that decision. I am in love with the life I live and I live everyday the same and it's the same perfect day. Groundhog day's curse but a blessing in disguise because on this day I was never hurt, I never remembered what happened prior, I’m just teleported to a warm autumn day with the leaves still on the trees just starting to change. I am driving down Saint Lawerence going through the tree canopy after just passing God and his friends. I am everything and nothing at this moment. Going the speed of light to a sanctuary just outside of the town I have always known. I have found peace in the eye of the storm and there is so much for me to do. I feel close to ending the story because I believe another one is about to begin. Leaving my fortress of solitude, an unheard story, so unheard that it was lived before it was written and will be lived again and again. Reminisce through trial and tribulation, sometimes the fear or hurt of sitting down with this page and continuing and knowing I will continue again but something tells me now that I don’t have to do that anymore. Old friend I think I’ve overstayed my welcome just a couple pages too heavy. Just a couple sentences overstuffed and crammed with a little too much punctuation. I think the weight is light enough today for me to take it off. Endings seem immature because nothing ever ends really, just stops and gets picked back up somewhere else. I think I’ve done it.

[sebastianorion]

That’s most of the idea of writing though, just explaining and making sure that if I was crazy at least it’s justified to some extent, at least explainable or understood maybe. Just walking around the human condition. Franz Kafka talks about this mostly. About being misunderstood through language because language is the one thing that connects a living experience. Wearing camo today, my hands start shaking, hoping I can blend into the walls, fade into the checkered brown tiles that cover most of the floor. She graduated 46 years ago, it doesn;t even feel that long ago she says. But it has. A haunting thought sitting never to her, I’ll cry when we trade places. Just a couple pages left. I bleached my hair for no real reason, should’ve found one before I did it, didn’t turn out as well as I wanted, will try again later. Supposed to have plans today. Couple things to get done. Feel stupid today, like something is on my face. When I get to thinking about it. I guess I’m still mad. I just don’t know what for exactly, or why still, eternal sunshine of a spotless mind. I’ve been fed up, just convincing myself it seems. I don’t know too much really, in all of it. I just know what I know, where I can surmise and think about, take pictures and ponder on. It’s a chilly day. In one of the twelve months that encompass. A slow day takes me apart, builds me back up again, all it takes really. A day left in reminiscing and previous thoughts swimming back up to the surface, peeking just the tops of their heads and eyes out at you. I’ll feel fine one week and the next like my life will never work itself out. I used to feel good about the summer but now it’s just hot, the sun's out and I melt in between my skin. Can’t wear long sleeves as much and I have a harder time going out. Work is always busy and I can’t seem to get a grip on things. I need to cry soon but haven’t found the appropriate event. Need to find someone to mellow me out, reassure me and make me think everything will be ok. Until they find out they can do better and leave. Laying in bed fully clothed, still with my boots on, a slow day took me apart. I leave and have to rebuild myself from the ground up everytime. This used to make me feel better but it’s just another part of me now, a codependent relationship and something I can’t get rid of. Something that I sit in the shadow of constantly. I’m tired of this all now, maybe I will try harder.

[sebastianorion]

Thinking of existential questions to ask Lukas when we are cleaning up tonight, after all the work is done and there's nothing left to do besides mull over all the possibilities our brains conjure up for us to be scared of. Seeing my cat on high alert, like an alarm just went off, just my phone dinging again reminding me of the text message you sent me after ghosting me for the 2nd time this month. Thinking of the things I'm owed, how you stomp all over me and the decency that's required to just send a simple message. How can I be the star if you think the movies are about you. How can you be the star if the movies about me? How can we exist together if we both think different versions of that thought. Main character syndrome or an ego that never got deflated, maybe just pushed down a bit until they started telling me I'm that guy. I'm really him and it's funny because even if it isn't true it still is and everyone knows it now. I see why they say it and it isn't even necessarily about being that guy but more so the guy that I am I am him so I am that guy still. A confusing little loop but no different than if you know then you know and if you don't then you won't, might not even but that's ok ! Don't be afraid ! There's some things better off not knowing, not being harmed by inclusion or just simple knowledge, maybe even the assumption of but that's just this morning

Here we are, you found me at the right time, in a time of panic, feeling like my dinner is coming back up slowly, anticipation rising sitting in my bed. Having conversations in my head of things that might happen, might happen if I see you again. Conversations of me begging and pleading to other people to forgive me, forgiving the reaction I know I'll have when or if I see you again. The setting or the context, the reaction and how things might happen. I'll read into it several times, over and over again making a new scenario of what could be said or not. That's all for that at least. All it needs and it's surprising because I feel better now, being alone in my room in the dark, hearing the footsteps above me. The dogs walking around, my cat landing on the floor in one quick thud.

[sebastianorion]

I’ve been wondering what happened to that bike we rode, the double seated one your parents had in their garage. The truth is I still think about it often, mostly at an idle time, just sitting in my car at a red light, in the breakroom just staring at the blank pages of my notebook. Wrapping up sliced watermelon or walking through downtown with someone new. I’ve been trying to like the person you’ve made me but it’s hard, I miss more things about the old me than the new things I’ve made. Time goes on and I know eventually I will be okay but you replace hurt with a different feeling, you don’t really ever get rid of it. I say you but only I know who I’m talking about every time. I have pages upon pages and the stack keeps getting bigger and bigger, nonsensical and meaningless ramblings, until we have a live performance that changes us for good, and then we have another one after that, one more after that. 

[sebastianorion]

Found another will on Paddock, just creation for creation sake and a couple more good reasons to keep pursuing artistry. In every move, every endeavor. Breathing through me the same as oxygen does, the same way my lungs work on their own without manual input every time my blood needs oxygen. A constant in being, being here at least, on this physical realm. It’s waking up and longing, a natural desire for something, something not even provided naturally on this Earth. Something only humans desire because we’ve completely made it in our head. From the moment of waking up. Longing. Still thinking about it. May is my least favorite month, it’ll be over in 2 weeks. In another 2 weeks it’ll be my birthday. Turning 22, feeling like I’m 18 in my apartment space, listening to Braxton Cooks painting an awful scene in a starchy green room. The police barging in shortly after. Still heartbroken in different ways.

It’ll have been a year since my life changed. I cry about it still. I think about it often, about everything really, hard not to talk about it, not to think about it, it’s this story, this well kept secret about how I got here, that’s a vital part of it. I get scared getting close to someone now, stacking up experiences and good times with a fear that it can all get ripped away from me at a moment's notice, left with intense and vivid memories that I can only ever be fond of anymore. Only ever existing in my mind. I have this problem with remembering, the details, the scene, the context and feeling of the moments. It gets harmful more than it serves my purpose. The Boone county fair comes to mind, a vivid recollection of that night. Jim and Sherris, Sitting in Dairy Queen with you, maybe it was when you got your haircut. It’s a couple of things I think I just picked up along the way, these scars and bruises that once I take off more of my clothes you start to see. The more and more intimate we get the more I get scared you won’t want to know me. Won’t want to deal with that baggage. I remember, it’s like a weight, you wake up in the morning and feel it on your chest, making yourself strong enough only for a moment, in that moment you move the weight off of you so you can stand up in bed, in another moment you will shift that weight onto your shoulder in an attempt to stand. Everyday, just moving that boulder around. One must imagine and I’m imagining but I’m still convincing myself I’m imaging, convincing and imagining I’m imagining and convincing. It gets jumbled up a bit. I know what I’ll say now when I see you again.

[sebastianorion]

I have a bomb, I have a bomb, I have a bomb, I have a bomb.

I have a hard time writing next to someone especially if they are over my shoulder. Staring over me or maybe at me. I should’ve punched in early just to follow her, wherever she is going. I should enjoy this time though. I’ll make the decision next. The better choice. A choice vs. a decision. A decision you must make from thin air, well from other possible choices. Different choices infer your decisions. I decided on you. I never needed another choice. The female titan you remind me of. I have a hard time living in the moment. I’m always fantasizing, making plans and thinking about a version of my life that could be mine. One I wish could be close to. You infatuated me terribly, to a degree where I can’t focus. Hard to distinguish if its a phase or a concern. Hard to discern that I remember these instances. My knuckles don’t hurt as much anymore. I ran out of words but there’s some things I still have to say. I wonder about you. Wish I. Let me stop. Here I am fantasizing. If you worry too much about something happening it won’t happen, it won’t find you. If you aren’t constantly thinking about it, if it doesn’t haunt you then you won’t change. Here is that dilemma. I’ll be wondering about it. Awkward glances and everything else balances out. I’ve been putting up with this shit for way too long.

[sebastianorion]

I can’t just run away, not anymore at least, just a normal day. Coming to terms with an unknown future, dodging curveballs and rolling with the punches. I forgot to brush my teeth this morning, wondering if anything else changed while I was sleeping. I wake up and feel like a whole new me. Someone came and replaced every single part of me with a replica, a duplicated version of myself, I don’t feel real, like myself. It happens every night, I forgot what the real me feels like so even if I get back to it, I don’t know if I’d know it. I’m just saying this to scare myself worse, but it feels true. If I don’t feel real how can I know if somethings true, if I’m not just convincing myself. If I didn’t just convince myself that I did. This clone convinced myself. I am a soul in a body, I am a soul in a body. I must remember that because if they replaced the physical portion of myself then it doesn’t matter as long as I am the same soul. Just a mortal shell they have been swapping in and out to mess with me. I feel it coming. I am a young man. I am a young man. I am a young man. Sometimes that in it of itself is the sin. Taking my time today. The early bird gets the worm. The ground just became soft enough to feel it give when you push your weight down on it while walking. Documenting the passage of time. Not accurately or routinely, because it always travels the same, just feels different for some people. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll look up and be 40, then look up and be 50, then stop looking. Stop looking because I will be my father and hopefully parts of my fathers father. No Marcus but I’d do a fine job running an empire. Buying parts for my car. Waiting. You text me suddenly, I get nervous about you. Like a harsh wind that could knock me over. Embarrass me and suddenly harm me. Like before.

[sebastianorion]

my letter to god

It’s on the days where I don’t work I feel the worst, sitting alone in my house, alone in my room, alone in a world that everyone stands next to, looking into but never stepping foot in. Just adjacent to everyone, and when words come through the translucent barrier, they get garbled up, translated into something understood but misinterpreted. I don’t know what I meant to say. Just sitting alone, at my computer, like usual. Nothing out of the ordinary I guess. It was always like this.

Do all humans have this longing to be understood? To sit with someone and ramble on and on about all the whims and tangents they are able to think of in 5 minutes of time, and not be perfectly understood, but at least listened to, at least able to be seen for a observable moment. Something to make me feel real. Acknowledge my existence please. SOMEONE TELL ME I AM HERE FOR SOME REASON BESIDES THE ONE I DECIDE ON. SOMEONE TELL ME THERE WAS A PLAN IN MIND. But there isn’t, there never was, down to the first human being there wasn’t a plan, just simple will. Hunger, thirst and a need for shelter from the elements. I have all of that covered now tell me what I need next. Tell me something I can’t make up to distract myself for 3 months at a time. Tell me I finish this book, these poems, these constant idling's and drawings and musings and women that I lead on for weeks at a time and then get scared of someone knowing too much about me. Tell me that I know there’s more to life, I just have to find it. Give me the way out, my patience is running thin, if this was my letter I wouldn’t send it, I’d just keep it until you found me. 

[sebastianorion]

You say you never go out but you never come when we invite you. Well truthfully I’ve been sleeping. Truthfully I don’t think interactactions like that are meant for me. Truthfully I’m scared. Truthfully I don’t like being in public. Truthfully I have a hard time realizing I’m being perceived. Truthfully I’m nervous and haven't been sleeping well. Truthfully I’m only truthful within the confines of the margin. Truthfully I’m wondering just how long I can keep this up. Truthfully still trying to find the silver lining. Truthfully still looking for the bronze cup. Truthfully asking why you care more about this than I do.

[sebastianorion]

I wish we were strangers 

I wish I couldn’t find parts of you within me 

I wish I would’ve never gotten to know you 

or been so conveniently close

I wish I could forget all the things we know about each other 

things we can’t share with other people 

I wish I’d never be able to recognize you 

in person

or through the women I meet that I find you in 

I wish I could drive really fast to your old house

close my eyes when I’m just a couple blocks away

and crash into something 

so you’d be the last thing ever on my mind

[sebastianorion]

my resolution was in montauk 

I got to thinking about it and I don’t even know what to say to her

maybe tell her the reason I had this procedure done. 

the way things progressed and digressed and the sudden feelings of stress I have now out in public

in random commonplaces 

the slim percentage chance I could run into her again

like a forced confrontation

an unskippable cutscene 

just waiting on the moment I see a forgotten face 

and it’s like I don’t even know if she knows I still exist or not 

if she still remembers me or how she remembers me. 

and we always hold this importance over forgetting 

an unconscious fault 

but we remind ourselves to remember 

we associate things and portions of our lives, 

moments in time to certain memories

I remember her body heat. 

I remember feeling her bones over her skin. 

her ribcage and the creases against her hips and thighs. 

the way her heart beat when she would lay against my back. 

I still have the things I wrote. 

These forms of physical matter that cannot be displaced into another mode. 

things that I got rid of and returned to me. 

doc I mean it makes sense for this right ? 

burn it from my brain please.

I won’t hide her away again. 

I promise this will be the last time.

[sebastianorion]

she had my favorite month in her eyes 

we met in august but I wouldn’t notice until a bit later 

after the leaves fell and left, when snow started approaching 

she turned 24 in april but it was like we were 18 in october 

carved a pumpkin one night 

the next we climbed up on the roof of her house and threw it off

watch it smash into the ground. 

perfectly good pumpkin too. 

went to her friends halloween party 

I was edward scissorhands 

she was the corpse bride 

it turned november and I saw it leave 

the green she had on the bottoms of her iris 

replaced with a steel gray 

we haven’t spoken much since 

said she got carried away with work and school

my friend told me she dropped out a month before

i asked one of hers and they said she got fired a week after that 

haven’t asked to see her again 

waiting for my favorite month to roll back around

[sebastianorion]

The top of the hill. Fucking around trying to find out, in no particular order. The snow we missed in November and December comes back to torment us in February. The 1st month of the year is over and there isn’t much to call for it except 2,000 more dollars and a depleting sense of self worth. Distracted, lazy and unconcerned. Watching a movie every day and planning survival tactics for the day we decide enough's enough. Sentences of idioms don't even make much sense leaving an hour early. Arriving somewhere else an hour late. Taking snow breaks and just getting used to it. Working in a warehouse with no one else to talk to. Falling asleep on a forklift and knocking over a dozen or so racks after a head on collision. Wasting a month's worth of work. Not even your fault necessarily. Maybe a pension will even it out. Finding myself on the scoreboard with 6 personal fouls and only 10 minutes in the game. Just playing to beat myself up. Getting back that punishment part. How it never seems fair to do the things I do. Ruminate on it a little like a sled going down hospital hill. Thinking of all the bad things that’ve happened to me as some sort of karmic rebound. Maybe I did deserve this, so I’ll punish myself to even that out somehow. Appease that 4th god in control of those types of things. I’ve been bitter, I’ve been mad, I’ve been resentful. Thinking of karma like eventually I won't feel this way. Not everyone is a bad guy. There are just choices that you have to make and things that need to be done. This is like the monologue from Trainspotting. Most of all I’ve been frustrated. WIth myself and my current state of affairs. Staring at people who glance back. Staring at myself in the mirror noticing my hair getting longer, my eyes getting more sunken in. My freckles are fading and losing color. The things I can’t get back and time slows down and picks back up, sometimes stopping in a blink of an eye. Never going at the pace you’d like but still still. Still just still. Still like this, still going, still moving, still stopped. So eerily still and nothing else in its wake can pull it apart. Need to stop and breathe. Remembering how I would write myself into panic attacks. They gave me meds to make me sleep. I never took them. Haven’t freaked out in a while, but again, I know it’s coming. Thinking back on previous thoughts knowing how scared I was before and glad I didn’t follow through. Scared of myself currently no longer. Just the past version of myself coming back to haunt me. My future version curses me before I can know.

[sebastianorion]

Just staring into oblivion. Funny how consistent almost everything becomes, even entropy as a topic boils down to consistent digression. Everything here is a system of work. All made up because the store runs itself. The store will continue no matter who is here to manage it. Counting calories, stretching and forgetting my phone exists. Getting harder and harder to reach, harder and harder to teach. Making songs only I’ll listen to. Not because of any reason besides I’m the only one that wants to enjoy them how I’d want them to be enjoyed. Phil walked in and caught us goofing around. Not that it really matters. Probably forgot. We’ll see. When I punch in, put my other face on and shield myself from everyone that thinks they could know me, most times drive me insane but learning to enjoy the anonymity. People asking questions I have no inkling of how to respond to. Still wondering. Had a really weird dream again. Fell back asleep and was back in it too. In the liquor store. Dating a friend of a friend. My subconscious is feeding me illusions of grandeur. Moments of intimacy I know I won’t be getting for a while. Maybe I should try to appreciate something else. Find me a moment that’s just my own and I promise I won’t share it. Even in this. Hard allocating space to commit some lines into here. Even just the time. Finding myself wanting to get further away from it. Wanting to hide away just for a moment. Forgetting about my little black book for a moment. Typing how I used to, just a little more inaccurate, but trusting myself. Typing with my eyes closed and thoughts pouring directly onto the keys, getting the first 100 words out just so we have a good base to jump from. I will be working on my book from now on, the daily writings must slow down at least. I HAVE A STORY TO TELL. NOT TO TELL BUT TO SHARE AND STRICTLY JUST MAKE. Something about BEING HERE. BEING WHERE I AM. THE PART NO ONE CAN DESCRIBE BECAUSE IT IS UNDER EVERYTHING WE KNOW. A THIN LAYER UNDER ALL THE PARTS OF THIS PLACE. A GROWING, INVISIBLE MOSS THAT WE GET INFECTED WITH. SOME OF US SLOWLY GETTING COMPLETELY COVERED WITHOUT EVEN NOTICING. THAT NOSTALGIC SCAPE. LOOKING BACK ON A HARVESTED CORN FIELD WITH THE SUN SETTING OVER A PINK SKY. BARELY ANY MOVEMENT WITHIN SIGHT. Something about walking around your block once with your dog and seeing dirty houses look bright in the sun. Going to start thinking about Calvin, Ramses, Joan, Arthur, the cast of characters I have to strongly build in my mind. These characters have to make sense in my head. 

[sebastianorion]

I’ve taken everything I could. There’s nothing left and worst of all, it hurts me. This dreadful place full of reminders everytime I go anywhere. Avoiding eye contact. Took notes on how to order for the week. Nervous but ready. Just afraid of permanent failure. Don’t know if I should be nervous. Scared to speak to your sister. Maybe because she seems so similar to you. Been thinking about how much I detest the beach. I already didn’t like it but you just made it worse. Maybe the next time I have some time off I’ll just leave. Just for a little while. Won't tell anyone. How long before they start the manhunt. How long until they notice. Until I’m found. They run into me and it turns out I was just hiding. Because I ran away. I’ll run away, shave my head, start a new job, act as crazy as usual, spend a lot of money on the lottery. Drink beer everyday. Get an RV trailer and just keep running. I’ve been trying to find out running from what but that would require me to stay still and let it see me. I’ve just barely seen the shape of its presence. Making up end of the world hypotheticals and politics of being a king. Chances of an heir, making a change, coming out on top. I bought my new notebook. An all black one, except the pages of course. Been sprinting to the end of this one. Working on my tag. Walking into fumbles and football talk. The world cup was a month ago. Olympics maybe like two years ago. I forget. Doesn't really matter, there will be another one, and one after that. I need to go back to school. Finish my degree. My book. My car. Need to stop driving myself so manic. Stop looking at other women. Looking for other women. SHould just get into a safe space and see what waits for me there. When I am here, I am full of impatience. Not much changes without me noticing at least. The ink dries fast, leaving a permanent impression, non washable. A chemical change. Matter unable to be displaced. SHould burn this page just to be sure. Set the whole book ablaze. Enticing, but it’d be a part of me embalmed in flames. A 4th dimensional break unable to be traversed back to again. Passing faces, something too nice to not get a second glance at. Working and working and working and working again. I am a man of my. You are driving down a long straight road you see no end to. Trees hang over the sky above you, the sun glints through the leaves as the branches sway from the wind. There are no roads connecting to the one you currently traverse. You are oddly familiar with this road, just not knowing where it ends. Recollecting parts of past memories, trying to make sense of this dream-like scenario. Corn and wheat fields surround you. Growing over the windows of the car, leaving you unable to see past the first row of crops. Just leaving you to wonder how big the expanse is beyond the ears and floating barley whipping back and forth. I am getting so tired of (fill in the blank) Getting more and more comfortable with the places that aren’t my home, my bed, my chair, my bathroom. Looking forward to work. Nothing out of the ordinary happens, nothing dramatic or unexpected could transpire into a menaginless mess. People come and go. Passing by passing faces that will forget me within the hour. A mother's burden, the weight of a child while being formed and afterwards. It’s my fault I started this, I was first. The first burden, I will not repeat that same mistake. I will get away from this.

[sebastianorion]

Valentine's day approaches. Nothing special about these holidays besides the importance that people assign them. Maybe just stuck searching for some semblance of importance within a place I spend so much of my time in. Yeah, just feeling bitter and lonely today I guess. But not guessing because I know I am. Took this long to be able to confirm my feelings aren’t just between two drastic modes. Just upset, upset that the words are running out, upset that the words aren’t helping anymore. Scared they’ve turned to haunt or harm me. Upset that when I see my grandparents there isn’t anything new or exciting to tell them about. I’m just FUCKING WAITING.

Waiting for (fill in the blank) Still not sure really. Don’t feel like writing today, maybe tomorrow. Everyone makes plans, resolutions and reservations, dates and moments to be remembered. They’re just going to fucking Applebee's. Why must I fall in love with any woman who shows mild interest in me? Why can’t I get past a conversation. Maybe I’ll try tinder. Looking for enough intimacy for a several night stand. Ode to the conversation stuck in your throat, that one you've been wanting to get to. Can never really tell what’s up with me sometimes. Maybe I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Still just thinking though. Missing parts of the person I used to be. All things change with time but I should’ve brought those pieces with me at least. At least have found someone to give them to maybe ? What an awful spot in this notebook, in this life, right now at least.

Just a bad day- not a bad life. Since stopping that romanization of being sad, I’ve been more sad, used to look for an excuse and now I can’t find it and still end up this way. This month will fall from my head like the dead hair I won’t notice. Guess I shouldn’t complain too much. Evolving. I’m he. Used to think there was more left than this and there is, I’m just nowhere near anyone who can tell me about it.

I’ve spent the past 6 months trying to forget the last 5 years of my life. It’s hard for me to stand adjacent to people now. Finding the real meaning of time, time isn’t wasted, it’s spent, you could’ve wasted money buying something broken but with time you can always make a decision to just stop spending. Redefining comfort. Comfort as a scary thing, like a position you know about and are familiar with.

I HATE YOU. I HATE THE WAY YOU MADE ME. I’VE BEEN REBUILDING MYSELF IN AN IMAGE YOU WOULDN’T RECOGNIZE IN THE OFF CHANCE I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN.

Only in dreams and you never pay attention to me. Always looking away, your back facing me or just avoiding eye contact. I think of the things we used to do. The person I was when I was with you. The things I can never get back. Losing that childlike innocence. Now tempered steel stares back at my reflection. Sorry for the short outburst.

[sebastianorion]

 Been thinking about comfort -a satiable feeling, being comforted- being comfortable. Having dreams where I am comfortable, where I am comforted by something or usually someone and then waking up completely alone. Waking up being none the wiser, waking up completely alone. Alone. Seeing couples and being jealous of two complete strangers. Regardless of if they hate each other, if they despise each other's presence. There is an amount of safety just within the companionship itself. That unspoken oath. I often have thoughts like what are you up to right now. I start to care less and less. I start to work more and more. My pen bleeds no more than it needs to. One page at a time.

Under what conditions would I fight someone, I mean bare knuckle brawl. I mean, really think of hurting someone out of pure anger ? Or necessity maybe. What condition would arise where someone definitely needs they ass beat. I would have to assess their physical attributes. Build myself up first, I’d be a sleeper build for sure though, that’s a good and bad thing though because it’s unsuspecting but I can’t really get all that big. Learning to fight again and it’s all I think about now. Just punching. Holding my hands up. Moving around inanimate objects. Building my stamina. Chasing and running myself into the ground. Not slowly anymore, but rashfully and crude-like. Sorta like a clubbed fist pulled back swinging from momentum. Under what circumstances would I beat the absolute shit out of someone. Just simple resources, feeling a little manic today, really cold for some reason. It’s chilly out. We lost most of the snow.