ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"Everyone needs someone / to live by / It's how high you are / and the time it takes to Heal.\" - Catherine Wheel It seems that all I ever do these days is hurt people. I'm so self-absorbed; so into myself, that I seldom see what my ignorance does to the people that I'm supposed to care about. Those I call "friends". I don't mean to be this way. I just am. My worst fears realized: I'm becoming my father. I worked on the book today for the first time in months. It felt good to be getting words on the paper but empty and sad to be writing the inconsequentials of my wasted life. I wrote about how sweet my grandmother's iced tea was and how petty my brother and I were, unleashing our passive/aggressive grudges on each others' toys. Trivializing the life that he lead; that he no longer leads. How can I do that? How can I reduce him to a materialistic 7-year-old who threw my Snake Eyes G.I. Joe on the tin roof to retaliate for my breaking his He-Man. I did come to a realization, though, while writing about our War of the Toys. Exercising your resentment only starts a vicious cycle or retaliation that will never end until one or both parties realize that No one will ever have the last laugh! We're all being laughed at, all the time. The trick is to strip the laughter of its malice and enjoy the soundtrack. It's never easy. I still can't do it. All I know is that I'm on a path of self-destruction and I don't seem to care who else has to fall by the wayside for me to complete this task. I don't seem to care who gets hurt in my unending quest to undo myself. Why am I this way? Last night, I saw myself in the mirror. I was washing my hands and I looked up and there I was, looking back at myself. I thought at that moment that I looked pretty good. I recently got a haircut and my hair was behaving and my cheeks had a resonant glow of life in them and my eyes sparkled a little. I thought, out loud, "I'm not such a bad looking guy." This is rare. I was so pleased and surprised. I asked myself "Why? Why is it that I seldom feel this way? What is it about tonight that makes me think that I'm attractive? I mean-" I stopped mid-sentence when my eyes fell upon the answer. In my right hand, glistening with condensation, was the beer that I had been drinking. It was near empty, and was my fourth one that evening. I set it down, turned off the light, and went to sleep. It's never easy. I still can't do it. 9:35 p.m. - 2004-03-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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