till death due us part.
2006-01-11 12:20 a.m.

wrapped up in cellophane, numerous sheets of cellophane, my whole body covered in cellophane..........

so many colors! the sheet closest to me is gray, and the next is red, and so and so on and all the world is so colored!!

once in a while i kinda of freak out - i mean i don't really know what the world really looks like with all these colors - i mean it can get pretty claustrophobic, even if the cellophane wasn't colored the lack of air isn't helping......

so once in a while as i said, i make a hole in the sheet next to me, be it gray or purple, and suddenly a new color is to be touched, but alas, the new color is a lie as well

in an spasm of frustration i enlarge the hole and tear the whole sheet up. I eat it only to shit it on myself. and the colors, always the colors prevent me from encountering any truth.
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and like any rational intelligent man i try to use logic to wrestle out of this wretched emotional situation which makes me want to die

so i think about these feelings which i feel, and i am left with no other choice then to realise that they are a product of what is called an obsession. well i guess you could call any strong-felt love and desire an obsession.

but i can't on the one hand give myself legitimacy to feel this obsession, since it is not a rewarding one, such as mutual passionate love between romantic couples.

on the other hand i can't disregard it and move towards cold turkey, since below the obsession and unrelated to it is a friend which i cherish.

like any curable disease, you must find the cause. and i ponder on the fact that the obsession itself is not a product of something external, such as the "receiver" of the obsession, but a result of an innate masochistic instinct to hurt myself. ( no-one honestly deserves to be thus obsessed, not julius ceaser nor jesus christ ) and again and again, i drag yet another oppurtunity from the endless well of oppurtunities that come my way to twist the knife inside my body..... and that instinct will always be hungry until it cuts my heart out. must be killed, bring on the antibiotics.

most of my life i had some excuse or another that enabled me to hold the knife.

i don't have any antiobiotics though, i don't have any cure.

but hell there goes yet another sheet of cellophane. 1 down, infinity to go.
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the light outside this wrapping is neon anyway. i guess it doesn't really matter .
i was driving in my car today, and i had one of those thinking about death sessions, and it sounds corny but i realised it is true - that inevitable unknown end, the departing of the soul from the body, the act returning what wasn't really ours to begin with - is truly the only certain thing in life. and the main feeling which swam through my wounded brain was comfort. no matter what i do, no matter how many battles i lose, how many oppurtunites i miss, how many guys and girls i had sex with, how many tears i cry, how many philosphical theories i will enrich my mind with - i will die, just like leonardo di caprio, john lennon, adolf hitler, aristo, jesus christ and my mother.

such a comforting thought it makes me want to snuggle with it. the only thing which got in the way, is that it will be later rather than sooner... but that's just a product of my mood today.
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maybe there the light will be true?