They say it is better to have loved and lost....

How do you replace the irreplaceable?

When something comes along that cannot be duplicated, that cannot be replaced, and it means more to you than you want it too, how do you move on when it is inherently gone? An infinite number of questions repeat in my overactive, hyper-analytical brain. All leading back to the same monolithic sub-structure, "why?".

Is this the meaning of what life is supposed to be? To sling these seemingly impossible scenarios at us and test our ability to move forward? Is this what all these half-wit Christians talk about when they say "God has a plan for us all"? Somehow, on a more basic level, I don't think it's that complex. In fact I'm a firm believer that the meaning of life and the only valid answer to "why are we here?" is that there shouldn't have been a question there in the first place. There is no "here". There is no "there". There is only an organized chaos.

This is the first blog in a long time that I'm writing just to put all my feelings on the table. As I am not really concerned with consequence anymore, things really can't get any worse, It's just gonna come out. I usually hide behind a volley of witty banter and amusing subject matter to put on this facade of happiness. Well, happiness is the wrong word...Continuity, if you will.

I lost something very dear to me. Over the past ten years, I have stashed something away inside myself. That thing is myself. The me that I knew before I got married to what really may have been, the worst human being in this hemisphere, has vanished behind a force-field of a calloused shell. I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know that the person I was is behind the callous anymore or if he has escaped, leaving this shell completely hollow. I don't have feelings. I don't have desires (besides just one), I don't feel remorse, I don't feel emotional extremes, I don't react to anger, happiness, sadness, trials, fears; I am empty. Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I see an unrecognizable face. Like my soul is made from cellophane, translucent and invisible when sought at certain angles. Somehow, the idea that this could be scary to oneself comes to mind, but I cannot feel scared. I can't feel anything. I can't remember this person I was. He is lost, and I want him back. Why do we always want what we cannot have?

Pain has become my only recognizable emotion. This pain is exterior. Not an Emo, comb my hair over one eye and listen to My Chemical Romance type of pain.

I've recently (last night) come to the realization that I am no longer 100% of what I was, or ever could be again. Formally, to every individual I've shunned, will probably shun very soon, and has been hurt because I'm no longer who I have tried desperately to be again, I'm sorry that I cannot give anything. Seriously, there's nothing there to give. I could sit here and give the "it's not you, it's me" speech all day. It's the truth. It's me. There's nothing here. It's funny how I use the words "I'm sorry". Truth is, I'm not really sorry. If you want to get technical, I could give two shits about most people, which probably includes you. I know that may seem harsh, but it really isn't your doing. There are literally, 8 people I would die for on this earth, and even in the circumstances that have come up recently with some of them, that list remains unchanged. Truth be told, there's no more room on that list for anyone else. No one will ever make that cut again.

The adage says "it is better to have loved and lost then never to of loved at all." I say, "Fuckin try it, dickheads."

"My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control over them."