Cemetary Gates

What is it that you have seen in the world that I haven't? Is it all the time in the world that I seem to have that is blinding me from my true potential? Am I too jaded by my (relative) free-will and liberty that I've deluded any true aspect of self-realization? I must be too enraptured with living in my material present.

Is it your imprisonment? The shackles by which you are chained to this suburban wasteland surely must be the causation of your, for the lack of a better term, ingenuity. You inadvertently evoke a plethora of emotions within people, the sheer amount of which you have no idea. Similarly, you fail to realize how high a pedestal we all place you upon. Sometimes it appears in conversation, but in purely referential form, as anything past an allusion to such is nonchalantly shrugged off and simultaneously smugly acknowledged. You are a god among men, and you don't even realize it—Enamored by many, but known on a personal level only to a select few. And yet, even to those few, you are still one enigmatic son of a bitch.

Share the wealth god dammit.

Higher Ground

Maybe I should stop being a self-important asshole. Perhaps I should stop trying to care so much, trying to insert myself into your well being. I don't know whats going on, and likely never will. To that end, I should stop trying to find out. I should back off. We're consistently on different terms, whether I think you perceive it or not. I'm pretty sure I do. You, as usual, are being elusive and practicing dogmatic exclusion, which of course you're completely entitled to. But please, I don't want to be lied to. I'm only trying to be friendly. I care about you, you know.

Or maybe, maybe I'm too analytical. As usual. Too meticulous in my thinking, not pragmatic enough to think clearly. Letting preconceived notions of "emotional attachment" cloud decision making. There's nothing wrong, the only wrong I perceive is exactly that: fabricated by an overactive, over-methodical approach to trying to befriend you. You said things wouldn't be any different, but I can't help but feel that everything is. The worst part is, I can't confront. I'm too afraid, I'm too big of a pussy to talk about it. Right off the bat, I interpreted that you wouldn't want to talk about it anymore, to simply sweep it under the doormat, and pretend as if this ugly little piece of shit never existed. And for awhile, I obliged. But that isn't flying anymore.

I'm much too anxious for that.

Pushin'

Please, allow me to try out one of these ultra-cryptic, Alex styled posts for a second here and allow me to ask the following:

Have you ever been so captivated? Have you ever been so...beguiled with some alien sensation, the intensity of which is so potent that you shiver—yes, SHIVER—with sheer bliss and euphoria at the mere thought of it? Indeed, a revelation I have uncovered encapsulates these very qualities, except at tenfold the magnitude of any example I've ever encountered before. The mental visualization of it brings me so much joy! Then I waltz on over to the object of my discourse, and there it is, right in front of my face, something which I never thought I'd ever see in my lifetime; I'm washed over with such elation and rapture that everything seems to disappear.

Alas, then I unzoom my telescopic mindset for a second, and proceed to take it all in. The sheer enormity of my actions is beyond my comprehension right now and I cannot foreshadow my future actions. But dammit, is this amazing.

And it ALL makes sense. ;]

World Spins Madly On

A photo drought is upon us! Fear not, however, for since the skies of San Diego currently cast down merciful raindrops, I shall do the same!

Here are a few of my (unseen) favorites from the (near) bottomless pit that is my iPhoto archive.


I suppose that'll be it for now. All I could pluck out that were pleasing to the eye without post-processing. Now, keep in mind that I'm not calling these photos "great". These are simply pictures that, out of like >600 snapshots happened to be of better quality.

That says a lot. I need to spend more time shooting composed shots. >_>

Expect more as days pass!

The Engine Driver

I wrote this to a dear friend earlier this week.

"I'm not a very eloquent person, and you know that. My passion for words exists only within the realm of the text book, not the free-flowing world of verbal communication. So too, you also know that I'm the last one you'd expect reveal the happenings of a psyche and reveal true emotion.

That's why I spent the day being a social recluse, eschewing conversation and encompassing myself in the dank, deep recesses of my mind formulating some sort of end-all-be-all manifesto of my feelings. To pen the severe self-destruction of my mind, my heart and my self-esteem. To show my true colors as an asshole with ulterior motives. All of which is fueled by stimuli revolving around you.

For you see, I hold the most embarrassingly self-perpetuating, overbearing and onerous affection for you. I like you _a lot_.

And it makes me feel stupid. Very, very stupid. Stupid for falling for my bestfriend. Stupid for never telling anyone. Stupid for denying it all the time. Stupid for being obsequious to someone that will never return my feelings.

I feel so dumb, following you everywhere, attempting to know you inside and out. Deep down I know this will never be requited. But I stay steadfast because it keeps me sane, gives me some form of self-worth, but most of all because it makes me happy. It's as if I'm tending to a wretched sapling that will never bear fruit, and whose consistency is but of mere glass.

It throws me into mood swings. It keeps me awake at night. It seeps into my lonely treks back and forth from school and from hangout to hangout, and anytime where I have nothing at my disposal to ignore and drown it out.

All of this is only amplified when I get a dose of reality: you and your ex (or boyfriend? or friend? I honestly don't know...), xxxxx, that xxxxx and all of your other potential suitors. I get so up-in-arms and inundated with an overwhelming sense of inane jealousy. I look at myself and wonder why I, a fat and socially inept asshole, had fallen into this trap, and why I was doing nothing to get out of it. I feel so ashamed, to hold this in. It makes me feel so inadequate. I pity myself because it. I have bouts of melancholy and dejection all too frequently because of it.

And for what? Absolutely nothing. And even with that statement and this message taken into consideration, I don't know what will become of me, you or even us. I don't even know how you'll react to this. Will this solve any of my aforementioned problems? No. But I just felt I needed to tell you. I couldn't hold it in any longer, not any more. You did ask what I was thinking about, when I had suddenly went silent earlier today, right? Well, now you know.

I'm not asking for your sympathy or your affection. All I ask is that you can still hold your trust in me and still look to me as your friend, for as the great Charlie Brown once said,

'Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.'

-Matt"

I kinda felt it should be here.






It doesn't feel the same anymore.