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she makes me wanna die.
I am fucking hurting so much. this sucks. I didn’t really expect this to be this hard. I really can’t expect any sympathy from anyone. there’s nothing anyone can say to make this feel any better. there’s really nothing i can do do make it hurt any less. i feel heartbroken. i feel lost and alone.

when i’m at work it’s not so bad. i am thinking about dimensions and angles and trying not to hurt myself with power tools. whenever i have a moment with my thoughts all i can think about is she and she is all i can think about. it’s sick and obsessive and i can’t get out of it. it’s all consuming and all day today i was actually experiencing a physical reaction to it. I could feel the pain in my body. it felt like a harsh anxiety. Like when i was driving i wanted to swerve in to the oncoming lane just to get in an accident and be comotose and make it stop. I was driving by the psych ward at VGH and thought about maybe checking myself in for a few days to just chill out and come off this. I was in the shower and considered slicing up my arms but then i wouldn’t be able to donate blood so i considered slashing my legs and i had to tell myself i am over that.

oh yeah, the blood thing: I called last week in attempt to get out of myself, to stop thinking about my pain and to be of service to others. I called to make an appointment to donate blood. then they told me i am barred from donating till the 5th of august. apparently my blood is no good. apparently that last time i went to donate blood i got through all the checks until they looked at the scars on my arms from my then frash slashing and i had to tell them what it was from. then they asked me a list of twenty questions again, like had i had intercourse with an IV drug user in the past 6 months and i had to say yes. I’m not a very good liar. so they rejected me. and apparently barred me from donating for a year. and so i got rejected again. there’s few things that compare to having an authority on health tell you your body is not good enough to be of any use to others. especially when you’re just trying to ‘do the right thing’ and be of service.

so i’m still stuck with working with drunks and drug addicts. took a couple to a meeting tonight again. hated every minute of it. prayed before hand for the willingness and strength to get through with it. prayed to be relieved of the bondage of self, my fucking selfish thinking that is plaguing me so i can give myself entirely to helping these people. it helped a little. not much. i still wanted to leave the meeting after 15 minutes. no one had anything of any value to say. they were all bitching and whining. i couldn’t leave though because i had to drive the two newcomers back to their recovery house. it came my turn to share and i said that am scared. i am scared particularly when i have to share. I feel like i have really something special, i have been relieved of the obsession to use drugs and that’s fucking amazing. I did the work outlined in the 12 steps and to my amazement and disbelief, i no longer have the all-consuming obsession let alone the desire to use drugs or to drink. I am scared when i am asked to share that i will not be able to clearly transmit the way in which i am transformed from what i was and how exactly i did it. so i essentially just told them i am scared and to read the big book cause what i did is layed out in there.

as i said, working with others isn’t really relieving this pain at all. i jsut want her so badly. i want her in my arms. i want her warm body next to mine. i want us to be lying quietly and for her to tell me she loves me. i want her to tell me i make her happy. i want her to tell me she wants my children. i want her to tell me she’s the only one she wants. i want to be the only one she wants. i want her to stop fooling around with other guys. i want to have a house and a dog with her. I want to cook amazing meals with her. I want her to be outrageously happy to see me and to be with me. I want to just know that we have an eternal bond without either of us saying anything. I want serenity with her. I want to trust her. I want to run my fingers all over her smooth naked back once more… ghosts, remember. I want to have the most amazing sex i have ever had again and again with her like that time not very long ago. I want to have the most amazing sex with her every day except for days when we just want to hold each other and that’s okay. I want her to love herself. I want her to stop selling herself short. I want her to stop working fights as a ringgirl and getting paid to be naked for other people. I want all these things and I think what I want from her is her to be someone she is not. I think these things are too much to ask from her. I think i don’t know what i have to offer her. I think if she would tell me honestly, she wants from me things that i am incapable of giving her. like understanding and compassion and trust. I don’t think i can give her those things that i know she wants.

this isn’t making me feel ANY better. in fact it’s making me feel worse. why the fuck did i write that. get it out, right? should i delete it? fuck it. i don’t care anymore. I still miss her. I still want her in my arms. I know it would fucking hurt to have her in my arms. and it fucking hurts to not have her in my arms. i wish i could just take a stand and stay away from her. but i can’t. why i am i so drawn to her? I jsut said that she can’t give me what I want and I can’t give her what she wants, so what’s the deal? why are we still crazy about each other? Is it becuase we occasionally give each other a spectacular intangible feeling that in that moment surpases all the bad shit? are we just chasing a pipe dream? Or is it that we are so fucking close to being each other’s perfect partner but both fall short of it and so we are left wishing those deficiencies away in hopes that the whole union would be perfect? It drives me to insanity all day thinking about these things. how many times a day do i write her text messages and then delete them without sending them? how many times a day do i think about what she is doing.

alone. alone. alone.

Lonely. Still. Yes I am. Fuck I hate this. Ann the other day was talking about a friend of ours who has been whining about his broken heart for 8 months and her response was, “fuck man, i’ve had a broken heart for 6 years and you don’t see me whining.” It scared me to think that i might feel this way for upwards of 6 years.

Forgetting to take my antibiotics.
Missed three counsellor appointments in the last week. Keep appologizing. Keep rescheduling. I asked her what is wrong with me. I am having severe difficulty getting to those appointments. She told me I went through this last summer as well. I was in a depression like i am now, she called it a depression and then she corrected herself and called it a ‘low spot’. whatever. She told me I could not seem to make it to her appointments last summer either when I was heartbroken. And this is the time when I need her the most. I told her about my dream last night. I dreamt that I had relapsed and met her for coffee to tell her what happened. I couldn’t even speak. I was just bawling my eyes out. I really wanted to kill myself. skytrain, bus, bridge. who knows. It was a really intense dream. then i woke up to the most annoying alarm clock ring on my phone. I almost fell back asleep and missed work but i imagined i had no option over it. I removed my will from the situation and got out of bed, on my knees and prayed for the first time in a long time. I just prayed for god to take away my difficulties so that victory over them would bear witness to those i may help fo thy love thy power and thy all greatness. hail satan. praise jesus. hari krishna. I had to repeat “take away my difficulties” about ten times before i really felt my difficulties had been removed; in that particular situation the difficulty being my desire to fuck work and get back in bed.
holy fucking tangent.

and i thought i had nothing to say.

I am trying to quit smoking and have only smoked 6 cigarettes all day. That’s quite the drop from my usual 30-40 a day.

I sent her a text message. I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew it was the less-wise thing to do. But I was also in a fuck of a lot of emotional pain and anxiety. not aided at all by the ol’ nicotine withdrawl. why do i have to miss her so much. it fucking kills me. everywhere i fucking look I see her. I see some girl’s hair in a magazine and think of her hair. Someone says something a certain way like she used to and it breaks my soul. I see places we used to go, i think of the good times we had together and it just is fucking hurting me. IT IS HURTING ME. So I just had to text her. I knew it wasn’t a wise idea but i did it anyway. I just said “I miss you and it fucking hurts.” Except maybe without the ‘fucking’. She replied. Told me she is in agony as well and has been crying nonstop since sunday and that she didn’t excpect to hear from me for a long time. The more I hurt the more I want her. The more I want her the more it hurts. I want a goddamn cigarette. No i don’t. You just
think you do. You want her beside you naked and close. No you don’t. You just think you do. Atleast the pain of not smoking somewhat takes the attention off the pain of being alone.

REading this book called The Power Of Intention by last name Dwyer. He was talking about how ego, our personal chatterbox mind voice that is the person “I” in the statement “I am me” is a pain in the ass. In particular, this ego gets in the way of our ability to realize our intentions – our intentions being our ambitions; the path of god; our life destiny; etc etc. Dwyer talks about how there are six ingredients to the ego that empower the ego to cause us to experience that feeling of disconnectedness and disharmony. Here are the six ego beliefs:

1. I am what I have. My posessions define me.

2. I am what I do. My achievements define me.

3. I am what others think of me. My reputation defines me.

4. I am seperate from everyone. My physical body defines me as alone.

5. I am seperate from all that is missing in my life. My current life space is disconnected from my desires.

6. I am seperate from God. My life depend’s on God’s assessment of my worthiness.

Well, I am really happy to have read that fourth egoic belief. Cause I am so in that right now. You know what helps me? This is what I do. I imagine myself in a dreamy field. There are flowers. It is the most perfect day. I fill in this daydream with all the best things i can think of and then i imagine her there with me. Everything is perfect. It is perfect only because it is not existing in this physical world but it is existing in a spiritual place that I am creating with my imagination. This place is pure. Intended that way. We are together and what seperates this vision from just a thought is that she is there with me. Not just imagined but her spirit is actually there with my spirit. together. in perfect unison. we are united and together forever in each other’s loving, tender embrace. everything is effortless and fear does not even exist there. I can visit her whenever I want and she can visit me whenever she wants. It is in this spiritual place that I find my sanctuary. The only place I can escape this pain that seems inherant with the physical, emotional world.

Must go to sleep now. see you in the spirit world.

I suppose I’ve been pretty beat the last few weaks. Beat down emotionally. Depression is an emotional disorder, right? And I guess disorder is lack of order and that definitely is characteristic of my last few weeks.

I got accepted to Langara. I have to figure out what I’m taking. But this subject bores me and I don’t want to talk about it.

My thoughts meander to different subjects during the day but lately they just seem to keep coming back to a central vortex surrounding a disposition of doom and fear.

I guess what I’m finding is helping to remove some of these feelings of doom and stave off the inevitable self-loathing is to be of service to others. To put myself out there for those around me. The most obvious way for me, the way in which i feel i have the most to offer is to help those who are/were as fucked as i was. i’m talking about addicts. people hopelessly addicted to crack, smack, meth, coke and good ol’ booze. I guess I have something to offer them now. Atleast I feel like I do. Most days I don’t even think about it but when i do, every now and then, I’m pretty blown away. It’s like, I used to be positive without any doubt in my mind that i was terminally fucked. That I had tried getting off drugs so many times and I would always come back. I could not conceive of myself being able to live a month without resorting to them to escape. Just to fucking escape it all. And fuck, I’ll tell you. I;m feeling pain right now. I’ve been feeling pain all week that I haven’t felt since I broke up with her the first time. second time. When i went away to Sasquatch and the distance felt like nothing between us cause everywhere I looked all i saw was her, and all i could here was my own head thinking about her. I don’t want to be sentimental about it. Sentimentality is emotional masturbation. It’s bullshit and I have no place for it anymore.

Yesterday, right after I said my final goodbye to the lady, I received a call from a friend who needed my help. my help. Can you imagine that? that people would call me when they need help? what a laugh. So I helped her out. I was there for her as best as I could. took her to a meeting. tried to tell her what i did in her situation to get out. GET OUT. Then today again… Work was tough to get through and afterwords I really was in a pit of self-pity when I got a call again from another friend. I was sitting in the queue for the 4-1 lane knock down for the southbound Lion’s Gate when I got the call. Another one, needing to talk to me. Where and when? typical tyme for meeting people – 7pm. typical place for meeting people – JJ Bean. There’s always a way out there for both parties involved. I’m deviating. So i was there for her. Then we went to another meeting. Now I’m no meeting hater, but I think I’m nearing 5 meetings in a single week and that’s quite a bit over my normal tolerance. But i had to go. I had to be there for her. We like to be the judges of other people. Whethere they’re doing okay or not. Whether our perception of their current state of being is enough to justify us saying “See ya!” and for our conscience’s to be alright with that. Well, sometimes, a lot of times, people just don’t want to ask for help. No one wants to ask for someone to just be their friend. To just be their with them cause they actually had a rough day and need to talk. Or to just be there with them cause they are scared. Sometimes ya just got to take the initiative and be there for them without them asking. So we hung out. Having a mindset of service allows one to be immensely tolerant and patient. Fuck does it ever. Then boom. Met a guy at the meeting with something less days clean than i have fingers on my hand. I chatted with him for a while. I was there for him. He knows no one here. He just moved here from Fort McMurray and within two days was down on Hastings smoking rock with the best of them. And here he was, shaking and clenching his jas, jockeying for a comfortable position as we talked. There’s no comfort when all you wanna do is get back to the rock. I asked him if he was done yet, if he really wanted to get sober. He said yeah. Then I told him I want to show him exactly what I did. The steps. I did them and I didn;t want to. No one wants to do them. They’re a drag when you’re doing them and all you wanna do is get back to smoking rock. But you don’t, right? There’s a little bit of you inside that hates it. That hates the demoralization and self-loathing. And that little part is what gave me the willingness to just fucking try doing all the steps. I did all of them and didn’t fuck around. I didn’t want to do them and I did them anyway. And look, I’m still sober. I don’t know how it fucking works but it did. So that’s what I told him. I’m picking him up tomorrow night and i’m gonna talk with him more about how he can do what I did and probably not have to smoke rock again. I’m excited for him. It’s gonna blow him away.

“I’m a junkie, right? Why should she want me anyway?” I used to think that. Now I think, “I used to be a junkie. Holy fuck, doesn’t she realize how amazing that is? How amazing I am for being through what I went through and being the wicked person I am now?” then I stop talking to my roommate’s cat and go to bed.

When i was talking to that guy tonight, the newbie, the guy fresh off crack-express, there was a moment ya know. There was a moment there where I wasn’t thinking about anything else other than “how can I really help this guy?” And that was a fucking amazing moment. That’s the moment that I was born for today. All the fucking worrying about being rejected and pitying myself for not having the girl I want and massing heaps of loneliness upon myself amounted to shit for me. But that moment? That moment I was not even thinking about myself. I was looking in to that dude’s eyes. His sketchy, scared eyes and thinking about nothing else other than transmitting information that I possess which could save his life.

I could really whine a lot abotu how much I miss her but that would be fucking pointless. Aren’t you tired of hearing about it already? It really wouldn’t be very fun for me to explain it all again to you, incase you forgot. It just didn’t work out. End of story. Tomorrow I’m gonna wake up and it’s gonna be the beginning of the rest of my life and I don’t need to settle for anything less than that which i deserve which is a hell of a lot better than wallowing in this mire of depression and feelling like I’m missing out. I’m not missing out. It hurt when we were together, and I sometimes lose sight of that. What I have to gain is much larger much better. I’m going to be a truly greater human being tomorrow and everyday following. Fuck tomorrow, let’s start now.

Fuck. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually wrote. This is writing for me. Not recording events. Writing is talking abstractly. Talking with the mind, not the memory bank.

Got home tonight and it seems someone tried to break in to our house while we were all out. The sliding glass patio door was off it’s track. That generally doesn’t happen while the door is fully closed and locked. If it was anyone in the house it would have happened while sliding the door. Thus I can pretty surely deduce that we were near broken in to. My door out on to my upstairs deck was wide open too. I think it was left open though, not broken in to, cause nothing is missing. Tomorrow I am calling AlarmForce and getting some vicious wild boars to patrol the back yard.

Worked a bit today. Buidling another fence. This one is a cheap throw-up from prebuilt panels on the east east side. As eastvan as you can go before it becomes Burnaby. It’s easy though. But working in the blazing heat, digging holes, mixing concrete and setting posts is exhausting work. I don’t mind exhausting work. It’s just, well, exhausting.

Wow. what a boring post. mmmmmmmeeeeeeeehhhhhhhh.

Watching Sid & Nancy in my new place. And Five minutes has passed since I wrote that. I’m distracted. Okay, well. I like having a real house. There’s a front door, a back foor, A deck, a living room with couches coffee tables and a tv, a second floor with it’s own bathroom, a basement and a garage. wow. k, i can’t concentrate on this right now. fuck it. my roommates rock. my band is in shambles and we’re trying to work something out. i am smoking two packs of cigarettes a day. somedays just one. two when i’m working. I get really stressed out and agro lately. get the desire to beat someone’s head in with a crowbar atleast once a day, usually twice and almost always in traffic. haven’t had a satisfying day at work in over two weeks. just a lot of fucking around getting materials, ted changing his mind, the clients changing their minds, me fucking up, and just a fucking waste of time and energy. I just want a big job with all the materials pre-bought and delivered. Like framing a house. I could go for that right now. A few solid weeks work. 40 hours a week framing 8-4. that is what i want. my chicken is thawing in the kitchen. i should go create something and eat it now. it’s friday night and i have no plans tonight. i might work tomorrow. i can’t decide. i only worked 5 hours yesterday and 8 hours today. i really should work tomorrow. lately i have been really unmotivated to do anything. getting out of bed is once again a struggle. if left to my own devices, that is, if i don’t have any commitments i sleep as much as possible, then when i’m awake i play vids and guitar and otherwise bum around. i guess the worst thing is just how i feeeeel. i feel like a sack of shit. I noticed the other day that I have pretty much entirely been neglecting my spiritual growth. In fact until the otherday I completely forgot i am a spiritual being locked in this body of flesh. i am still operating day to day bound in this fucking horrible hell of a physical world. it’s hell when there’s no freedom in the way of spiritual release. k. gotta go eat, smoke and sleep now. FUCK.

So… I was jamming downtown with Cory and I left my backpack in the back of my van. Got home and realized it was not there. I must not have locked the doors and someone stole it. Fucking weak skills. It could have been a lot worse. Could have been my laptop. Could have been my cellphone. Could have not taken my passport out of the front pocket yesterday. I used to scathe around downtown looking for stuff to steal. bikes, cars with the key in the ignition, anything not tied down or not locked up. I guess an open van with a DaKine backpack in it would have been a good score for the new generation of scathers. I suppose i can’t be that pissed. How many thousands of dollars did i rip off other people? How much property did I destroy? How many lives did I affect?

So count your losses:
DaKine backpack
favorite sunglasses from Urban Outfitters
iPod Mini, 6GB
two sets of alright headphones
airline ticket stubs from Cuba
sunscreen
a bunch of pens
nalgene water bottle
new $60 swimtrunks
old boardshorts
pair of desert camo pants
an apple
phone bill
bank statement

all totally replaceable. meh.

I have ten minutes.

I worked 9.25 hours today. 8:30-5:45
Not sure where this sudden motivation to work outside my usual regimented 8-4 shift came from. I want a motorcycle. I want Lorea to ride on the back of my motorcycle and drive really fast down long country roads. I also want a BMW 3 series from the late 80’s, the ones with the classy round headlights. I want more of this travel/vacation business. Cuba was great. I never went away anywhere by myself before. And why not? I figure I should go on a trip like that every 6 months.

I got a raise today. Ted mentioned he had to talk to me about something. I was like, “uh oh.” called him after work. He was playing baseball. He told me I have two options. Either take the rest of my $1000 bonus with this paycheck, or start my new wage with this pay period. Either way i will get both eventually, just i have to pick which i want for this paycheck, cause he has a lot of expenses to pay out this week. And that was that: He gave me a raise. I wanted one a couple months ago. A couple months ago i was selfishly dying for a raise. But what he offered out of the blue is much higher than what i would have asked for. He told me I am very valuable to him and he wants to make it very lucritive for me to continue to work for him. He told me he is so grateful to have me as a employee and that the work i do is great. I was smiling the biggest smile through all of this.

Rush rush rush. work, shower, jam. work, shower, sushi, meeting, jam. work, shower, jam, meeting. that has been the last two days. got to go. ten minutes.

I had a fantastic day at work yesterday. It was really easy. Got to a new site in North Van, almost Deep Cove. Building a fence. Fir and Cedar. Pressure-treated. Ted explained how he proposed we build it. He had spent sunday setting the first 7 posts street-side in concrete. I started building the panels which would link the posts to one another. I have to build about 16 of these panels. I built three on monday, and today i built three as well but cut about two hours off the overall build time. I will only get faster at building them. so it should only take me another three days or so to finish building all the panels. ANyway, i was talking about my fantastic day YESTERDAY. Time just flew by. It was lunch before i even really thought about it. Then what seemed like only a couple hours later Ted told me to pack up. I thought we were leaving early suddenly, but it turned out it was already 5pm. So, 9 hours Monday, and then today I just felt good enough to work a long shift – 10 hours. I may be motivated because I enjoy working with wood a lot. Other tasks like painting and finishing carpentry makes time seem to drag. Framing and rough carpentry such as fence-building are really fun for me and i kick ass at both.

In other news, I was unloading bags of concrete out of the van and i noticed that each bag was 55lbs. One bag certainly didn’t seem like much of a stress for me, which was surprising. I guess I always thought 55lbs would be heavier. So I tried two. No problem. Then I tried lifting three bags at one time. It was tough, but i’d say i was still only at about 85% of my lift capacity. If that estimate is correct I should be able to max out my lift capacity at lifting 195lbs dead weight. I weigh around 185lbs. I was pretty proud of that. I almost wanted to tell Ted, but i thought it’d come out sounding like I was a ponce.

Ponce is my new word fascination. Every week or so I get a new word stuck in my head. Not necessarily a new word, but just a word. Sometimes they’re insults or cusses swirling around in my head. Last week it was ‘goof’. This week it’s ‘ponce’. That internal monologue in your head? The sound of your thoughts whirling around consuming your life with an endless chatter of useless pondering, judging, calculating, organizing, evaluating, worrying. It’s that voice. But the last few days that voice has been astonishingly quiet. ALl it says today is Ponce. Ponce. Ponce.

Had a really amazing night last night. It was so painful to not be with her. After a few days of pain I had to see her. I dropped in on her work. She was wearing this fedora and looked perfectly angelic. It took her a couple moments to realize it was me looming in the entrance. We hugged a hug of eternal longing. We cuddled, we kissed. We spoke kindly of one another. I boosted up my Cuban skin in the express bed. She cleaned the bed after me and i could not help but gently finger her lower back as she bent over.

Anna was having a blast of a party at her house. It was a good time. A whole lot of my friends were there. Everyone was there. I barbequed a really large steak and ate it. It was tender and raw in the middle, the way i like it. The olive oil and salt and pepper massage i gave it just amped the level of the flavour through the roof. Pork chops not so good. A bunch of us went down to shine around 10:30 or 11. When we got there the club was dead and we considered leaving. no energy. no one was dancing. I was dancing the moment i went through the door. We ripped it up on the dancefloor. WE started the whole club on a steady elevation towards an all out party. I generally dance my ass off. I don’t like to half-ass dance. That’s generally not how to dance. Dancing is one of those things you need to put yourself in to 110% otherwise it is uncomfortable and lame. So i expended a lot of energy in the first hour and then i was really hot, really sweaty and pretty much exhausted. It was still fun. We all danced.

Left the club, phoned her and she was just getting off the skytrain at Commercial. We met up at my house at exactly the same time. It was like clockwork. I was really excited to see her. I was really excited she was at my house. We showered. She was apprehensive to shower with me. She thought she might later regret it. I left the option open to her. She came in the shower while i was still turning the knobs. We watched Oz, the episode we left off on. Season 4, Episode 3. I don’t think details in here are necessary. But i’d should note that what followed was hands down the best physical contact i have ever experienced followed by the absolute best sex i have ever had in my entire life. goddam. all i can say is goddam. she kissed me goodbye in the morning. atleast i think she did. i hope she did. i was half asleep still.

so tired right now. have to nap. need to recharge. i have no idea what is going to happen when i wake up.