insomnia of love

love insomnia
no need to destroy just go
take care of yourself

self-abuse of my soul, ad nauseum; mi vivo haha! [see also:"betrayal"]

i have been to the Edge many times; if i tell myself the truth: each time was likely my own fault.  oh--of course: 
i took myself there.  
a poet once said "love is not loving." -- whoops!   and--and-- a magical wizard once said "A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others."  that's it--i'm screwed.
but: "there"--every time, so far-- i have somewhy paused on my walk. and with toes sticking over the edge of the Edge, i have stared unblinkingly at forever, frightfully sick, afraid--yet too sick to feel fear. too sick to feel anything that might exist outside of my sickness.
how many times have i trudged, sans the slightest coaxing, to my gallows?  ten, twenty, a thousand...?  and how many times is too many times for one life?
yet it can't be too many; i am still here. "Cogito ergo sum.";  "I think, therefore I am."  blah! more like "Debatuo ergo sum."; "I fuck, therefore I am." [hahaha, that's still funny.... ahh..., the benefits of a classical education!  for it enables one to toss out clever-sounding--even pithy-- latin phrases, assured of having denigrated any plebes that might be present. (they know who they are... [notice my dismissive ellipses.]   of course... what we attempt to say in latin is rather limited: either achingly trite phrases, or unimaginative profanity, which we originally learned in eigth-grade latin.  ha  [we remember nothing else!  but--happily, we are also excellent at faking it!]  sadly, i am not fucking at present, but I am at least thinking...  maybe i still am.  so i haven't gone to the Edge too many times.  [ponder. ponder. ponder.]  still, though... 
maybe i'm just dreaming.
my resolution for 2011:  i shall be more conscious; and whenever practicable, shall not drag my sour soul to the Edge [without first giving it a little thought...]  <one thing is certain: if i continue to go there, i will fall...>
so, i guess i'll see you tomorrow, huh?   the usual place?  haha!  [he stated flaccidly, trying in vain to make his pathetic on-sleeve despair seem flippant.]

happiness... bang bang, shoot shoot...

some people are unhappy.  they are stuck down in an "unhappy" rut, unable to veer out over the banks on the right or left, to where happiness is.  there is one very peculiar thing common to all such people.  they can tell you all about their unhappiness: the people who are making them unhappy, and the unfair situations into which they are thrust against their wishes.  sometimes, when such people are on a roll telling about their unhappiness, it's hard to shut them up. but, the thing that is peculiar is that, if you were to ask them to describe what happiness, for them, looks like, they are unable to.  either they make unrealistic, childish statements "Well, first of all everybody would just leave me alone!", or they fantasize "I would be living in a houseboat on a canal in Amsterdam...", or they just refuse to answer altogether.   if such a person is able to become conscious enough, they will experience a profound realization: that they do not know what happiness for them looks like!   

The solution is easy: such a person must sit down and write exactly what happiness for them would look like: real and realistic thoughts regarding their school, family, friends, work, health, spirituality, place in society, goals and methods for achieving them, etc.  

Only when a person has done this in a serious and thoughtful way, can she begin to learn and grow to be happy.

i wrote this with love for you, maisey b.

love, dada