I found some stuff I had written in Japan one day.. not sure. Scrap piece of paper, in the margins of books...

 

Writhing passion. Disappearing ink. Slaughtered sunlight and the clock ticks. Seconds fly by as the years wear on. Wrinkles begin to conquer your skin surrounding your eyes and mouth, claiming territory all around.

 

You have more than blurred the line between black and white. You have licked your thumb, placed it squarely on the line and rubbed so vigorously that all that remains in a grayish blob. Your thumb is now a blackened mess. Your slobber remains stained in the paper for all to see.

 

Time to fly.

So it all ends because it has to end. It's muddled and confusing and I can't stand it anymore. So I end it all. Sever ties, strings, feelings, emotions. Blank stares, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Deep down it'll always be there. A small piece of it held in place by that stray bit of tape I found stuck to the bottom of my shoe one day. But I can't anymore. It hurts too much, it plays on my mental well being. I'm not willing to go insane for it. For that. For anyone. Not worth it to loose so much of yourself for such a stupid reason. I used to be a normal person. I used to have a brain and it used to work.

And now I'm off to find out where I left it. In this moment, I'd gladly trade my heart to get it back.

 

Pupils dilate. Breathe in and breathe out. Tears fall as the sadness escapes in any form it sees fit. I am not myself lately. Haven't been for a long while yet and I'm not sure why or how that came to pass. I feel like I'm floating through life in this weird surreal existence, biting my lip and holding my breath waiting for ... something. Maybe a bump on the head to wake me up. For a quiet respite from the craziness in my head. To feel something more than the emptiness that haunts me lately.

Not really emptiness, just this feeling of nothingness. A non-feeling. I feel nothing. As if I were a balloon that someone has let all the air out. I've reached a peak as I rocketed upwards... now I drift slowly down towards the ground to be stomped upon by passing feet, absorbed in conversations about life in it's purest form. Humanity.

I am insane. I feel insane. Load me up into the van, wrap me up in a straight jacket and throw away the key. Leave me to bang my head against the padded walls in peace until I regain a healthier outlook on life. Numb. Dumb.

I am me. I am homesick. Still...

 

Hollow me out with a spoon. Magnify my insides and report your findings. Am I made of mush, chocolate, ice cream, rice, bamboo, tears, sand, rain, wind, ice or fire?

Do you really see me? Or do you look right through me? Blinding compassion is lost on the mindless twats that run amok. They open their mouths to speak and all that comes out is waste and filth. They pollute the air around them with their foul words and their attitudes. Distance is best, lest their asinine qualities begin to rub off. I clench my jaw, ball up my fist and ready myself for a swing.

Pent up frustrations with many things these days. My oasis at times is you, because you make me smile for some unknown reason. Even if it's for the briefest moment that I see you..even if I were passing by on the train as you are standing on the platform... I'm sure I'd smile. The teeniest of butterflies flutters and I feel nervous. I have no idea why. Does that make me crazy? Does it scare you?

I stand in a petrified forest, slowly becoming one of those trees. My alarm rings and I wake up to the drudgery of every day and the rain clouds that line the sky and block out the sun. My view is obstructed and blurry. Dotted, speckled. I hear him chatting, nattering as I turn my head. Does he not realize I can hear him? His head spins round, changing faces.. one, two, one, two.. it depends on who's around. Tiring of this freak show I pay for my drink and exit the bar. It's just another night.. at least now I know for sure.

 

 

Him: "I want to make love with you"
Me: "Yeah, I don't think we have the right ingredients"

Jason messaged me this "You make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside"
I wrote back "Maybe you just have gas"

 

 

Someone asked me that in my class. Believe it or not, it was a ten year old girl. I've been thinking about it ever since, trying to come up with a way to accurately describe my feeling of being in Japan and living in Japan and I've come up with this:

I feel like Barney.

I feel like this big, awkward, huge, strange dinosaur. I feel out of place at times. I feel like a strange weirdo that wanders the streets and dances and sings for little kids and adults as a type of entertainment.

Let's face it, I'm far from living up to the dainty, feminine Japanese women. I'm bigger than most of them, and I am so not graceful or dainty. I feel awkward and I feel strange here. Plus I do dance and sing and entertain children and adults. I think it fits doesn't it?

 

Just because I haven't written a blog about Scott lately, and I said I would write one daily...

 

this week's quote of the day comes from his large vault of one liners that inevitably occur during one of our random conversations:

 

"Your lies insult us both."

 

Mel liked that one so much she uses it as her MSN personal message.