The Man Who Can't Be Moved...

'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be.

It's a funny day and one hell of a week. The ups and downs got scary this time, I considered things darker than I ever have before and my rage nearly got away from me. Nearly.

I often wonder if people could see how angry I really get if they would be afraid of me. I do get angry and annoyed often, far too often, but people take it as a joke, like I'm some kid who will never really do anything. I worry about the day someone pushes it too far. Like that chapter in the Perks of Being a Wallflower where Charlie snaps and hurts those three blokes. God that frightens me. I worry about really putting the hurt into someone, I have so many triggers nowadays, and god help anyone who brings up the shit I'm going through now.

I wonder about my age and my maturity a lot to, how I'm older than I am and the right age at the same time. I have my moments of infancy, where I turn back into this pathetic kid who panics and freaks out and some situations have a direct line to that kid. Those moments that remind me of all the pain I have been through and just terrify me to the roots of my being. Things that take me back to being sixteen and sitting in the backyard with the wire, and all the pain I felt then and how much everything here and now is worse. So much worse, but at the same time the memories are so much better.

I have this constant monologue of things running through my head. Jobs to be done, things to buy, how I look, how hard I'm working, what I really need to be doing, but every now and then something always floats in and interrupts the flow of traffic. Sometimes bad, sometimes worse. It can be a simple fender bender, but sometimes it’s a seven car pileup and I can hear the screaming from miles away. It confuses me, how those tiny little thoughts, that one fly in the ointment can destroy my mood, can take me from somewhere okay to somewhere disastrously bad. I'm trying to get a handle on it, with my writing and talking to people and focussing on what I can change, and what I can do and its very slowly becoming easier but some days it is just as hard as the first and those are the days I fear the most.

Are giving up and moving on the same thing? Is one cowardly and the other smart; is one a choice and the other a failure? My head tells me one is not an option and the other one is cowardly. I don’t know how to explain that but I think it’s all this knight stuff, it’s all about being worth it and showing others they are. If giving in means giving up should I do so? Or should I sit and wait with the arrow in my knee and find out what could have happened? It’s an eternal struggle up there in my head, for control, for the right decision, go for what you want! It’s wrong of you to try and make this happen! Why are you doing this to yourself!

To be happy? To be free? From anger? From depression? From all this noise? Such long periods of quiet that I haven’t had since everything changed. A glance from a thousand miles away, a sound heard around the world and everything stops. Everything goes dark and my head is peaceful again. I miss that the most. How I could be pulled back from the brink of it all with a piece of this and a flash of that.

How my world could change so suddenly for better or for worse, I guess I will have to wait and see. I guess I will have to spend some time as the man who can’t be moved.

You and that fucking colour blue...

I have never been much of one for art and the like and never considered myself particularly talented when it comes to it , but i do enjoy turning a phrase or two and have been known to scribble down the odd note of brilliance.

I know that red in all its glory is supposed to represent passion and love and anger and a few other things but to me, it doesn't really do love justice. Its bright and vibrant and you can see it from a long way off but it doesn't seem.. big enough. It doesn't really seem to encompass love. I think that's why i see it as blue. Not sadness, not the colour of the ocean, or eyes or anything remotely that cheesy, but infinity. Those days where the sky is clear, and not just clear but radiant, where it hurts just a little to look up. Science will tell you that's just the light hurting your eyes but i don't think so. I think that's our brain trying to register just how much is up there, and exactly what all that means to us. That's where love sits with me. Its not some bright little colour in the corner of my mind, it is infinity, it is a never ending nothingness that means everything to us. It is border less, and omnipotent, when you find the sky you aren't looking into space, really you are looking into everything, a world of possibilities, of a billion places to go, and a million emotions to feel. So no, I don't think red should be the colour of love. I think it should be the never ending sea of blue i feel in my chest each time my eyes find yours.

That may not have started as well as i would have liked but it damn sure finished the way i wanted it to. I'm sorry its been so long, but I'm sure soon enough you will be hearing more from me. Goodnight all, until the next time.