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.]