Regular Update

I'm doing well.

I'm back to work, at long last. I have my old schedule, working 10 hour days with three days off. I got my final login access to my systems this morning, and started yesterday.

With that being said, being back at work, and doing it from home, is rather enjoyable. I can't believe I actually missed the work, but there you have it.

I've been going out a lot more, without someone at home to keep me home, I've been socializing as much as possible. I went out with a friend to a movie, hung out at her place for more than 8 hours. I even went to Jenn's B-day party this year, ending at her place with a bunch of friends. Somehow in all of it, I got a nice 37 year old bottle of whiskey. I will treasure it.

I've been going to cards on a regular basis now, on tuesdays now that I don't have to work them, at the same time I've been enjoying the company of those outside the virtual world to the point I've joined facebook after much denying of it's use.

Vincent, sadly, has still been, off and on, spraying. He has been given away to a new home. Jennifer has taken him in in kindness, saving me the effort of having him put to sleep or sent to the SPCA for adoption.

I regret giving him away, and will surely miss him dearly.... However, I can't have him here if he is going to continue with that course of action, it would end up being grounds for eviction in the end.

Otherwise, I've made a few new friends, acquainted with several old. Ended up awake until past 2am last night discussing the intricacies of relationships and the Master/slave life with a gay co-worker who is himself submissive and interested greatly in the aspects of it.

Jesica's sister, I found out, doesn't like me. She considers me "weird" and says Jes can do better. Whether she got a vibe off of me that said I was bad news, or merely didn't like me on general principle, who knows. Jes's response to this was that every man her sister -has- liked, has turned out to be an asshole. So I wonder why she didn't like me, cuz I'm surely no good.

I'm enjoying this new side of things, it's merely an irony that this side of things has started after I decimated my wrists, and have scars plain for all to see. I suppose everything has it's price. I merely paid mine.

Too bad it was paid in blood.

Cheers,

Chris.

Dream State

Alright, it's not often I actually remember a dream, but this one was bizarre.

I was, somehow, visiting out east, with family. My cousin Patty, Marty, and Blaise. We decided to go to Walmart, the women had some shopping to do, and I decided I'd go along for the ride, figuring why not.

The store was set up for halloween, and at the same time, didn't look like a walmart, reminded me more of the bargain shop back in the day, only much larger... In fact, the only reason I reflected on it being a walmart, is because of it's location, which is to say in the mall in port hawksbury (which is strange since my cousin's live on the main land and Hawksbury is on cape breton).

Anyways, after browsing through some costumes, some toys, picking up a double sided light sabre (one of those plastic ones that work like a telescope), and admiring a grappling hook (it was a gun that shot out with high density steel line and a boarding hook on the end), I was looking at video games.

It seemed that every game was the SNES Zelda, and there were SNES systems, with the game in them turned on, but the TV's were off. I turned the systems off as well, with a lamentation of, "Hope they remembered to save."

There were a few other games, "Rampart: Earth"... I remember Rampart, was a medieval RTS type game. This one seemed more cartoony and had Donkey and Diddy Kong on the cover (weird eh?).

I was also sifting through PS3 titles, after turning down a kid's enthusiasm over PS2 titles... I remember seeing a Legacy of Kain game, a new one. The title escapes me now, but Kain looked like shit (as in old, bedraggled, and wondering wtf he was doing still in these games).

Anyways... On to the interesting part.

When we had entered the store, there was an option of taking your shoes off... I never take options like this, yet in this dream I did... No idea why... Anyways, walking out of the store, and turning into the dirt alcove where all the shoes are kept, I moved towards my shoes.

I picked a sock out of my shoe, and was turning/lifting my left foot so that I could put the sock on, when I saw a nub on the sole of my foot... Almost dead center. I picked at it, and it moved... I had an earth worm burrowing into my foot.

I pinched the end of it, and started to drag it out.... However after about half an inch, it's body broke, and it was still burrowing, though I couldn't feel it... The end of it was a bloody mess (literal, not figurative), and I couldn't again get a decent grip on it.

By the end of it, I had a hole in my foot, and the worm was somewhere inside of me.... My cousin Patty was there, and saw a bottle of brown liquid (liquor bottle), it was some kind of scotch vodka... Which of course doesn't exist... She recommended I pour it into the wound, cuz it may kill the worm... I refused cuz, well, alcohol on an open wound hurts.

I was taken to a doctor, and the doctor refused my suggestion of going in through the hole with a camera or something, or opening my leg... This somehow resulted in him using a machete to stab through my forearm while I sang a hymn to god...

No idea why mind you... The scene flipped to the doctor driving a cop car to get me to the hospital, and as we passed another car, he said something like, "I think that's the surgeon in there" and tried to hit a hard U-turn, which ended up flipping the car.

The dream from here shifted to some kind of game show scene that made no sense to me at all, and I deem irrelevant except that the worm made an appearance at the end before a text message woke me up.

So whatever the fuck that dream means, I have no idea... But the whole "worm burrowing into your foot" seemed interesting enough to share. If ya have opinions on it, even "dude, you're fucked up" by all means share.

Ah well, such is life.

Chris.

Venom

I've always been eager to read reader comments on my posts, at times simply checking my journal to see if they are there.

In the past, as with my last ex and her scheming friends, I removed comments from my journal, with the simple point being, I won't have comments which are more insult than insight.

Sarah has such venom in her. I can't say as I blame her for unleashing it at me, all things considered. Saying how I turn people to my side with only half of the story, or that my empathy and honesty are false... Which are neither true... I hate lying... That I can is hardly a surprise.

Of course, were I a coward, I'd likely have done a better job at the self-mutilation that is on my arms, as opposed to calling for aid myself.

The sad thing, is that several people, a few that matter, know the whole story, everything that happened, everything that was, everything that was done... These people don't approve of my actions, but they understand what, and why, and the simple fact is... The lies, three months of lies... Is more than enough for anyone to back me, whom knows my code, whom knows how much I myself value that honesty.

I'm hardly a good person... I've said it many times. This does not stop me from being loyal, kind, and generous as it suits the actions of others... All of which I had been... Except for the lies that answered it, and were in turn answered.

Though over all, am glad to know at the least she isn't stalking me on PoF... At least that is one thing then that I dissuaded her from (which is to say watching and keeping tabs on me to make sure I didn't do something stupid... Probably because I already did something stupid before we even left).

Such Venom Sarah... I don't blame you for it... But yes, if you respond to my journal with cold, scathing remarks, they will be removed. It's somewhat of a policy of mine.

Cheers,

Chris.

Infection

Exactly what my stitches have a minor case of.

They are officially out, all nine of them... Now I have an antibiotic prescribed to me to deal with said minor infection... Ah well, at least now I can do things without concern of ripping the stitches, and no longer have to worry about the flesh that was growing around them.

The downside to my doctor's trip today, is that I'll be on paxil again, a drug I've been on once to little effect... As well, I have discovered, to much chagrin, that there is only one female psychiatrist in the entire city, and her with a year waiting list for patients.

The doctor is going to look into it and perhaps see if there are any others that have perhaps recently entered the profession or the like. In all seriousness, with the amount of people that go to university and college to be head shrinks, is it really -that- rare for a female to come out of it?

In other news... I've been updating and tweaking the few dating profiles I have going, to be a touch more honest. Strange as that may seem, and I can say I don't see it mattering a whole hell of a lot. If women weren't messaging me before with am "easy going, laid back" profile, I don't see how saying, "Yeah, I'm a Gorean and this is my thing" is going to get much better results if any.

It seems to me that all my PoF profile is good for, is to let Sarah stalk me. Yes, that is right, I suspect her of using PoF to stalk me to see if I'm still alive, "ok" and around... Why she wouldn't email me, respond to a journal post, or message me on msn, as opposed to stalking me from the shadows, I don't know. I may not want anything to do with her after three months of lies, that doesn't mean I wouldn't coldly, and courteously respond to her if she ever made contact.

Admittedly, I think that after our last night together, the night I slit my wrists in her absense, that she despises me, no matter what she says. I don't think she wants anything to do with me, which confuses me to why she'd be stalking my PoF.

So I was halfway through this entry, when an old friend, Corey, banged on me door. Not something I particularly expected, in fact, didn't expect at all... However she was there because I had made mention to a friend about my endeavor to the afterlife and she was concerned and no one was giving her information about how to get in touch with me.

So we spent an hour and a half just... Talking... And then went out with Jenn (another close confidante friend) for drinks and sushi.

It was a fun night that I enjoyed immensely. I hope we can do it more often, in fact, we shall be doing it again on thursday... Kidnapping Shaun in the process (since he pussied out tonight).

I suppose I really should look long and hard at those whom are in my life, as associates and otherwise... I may find myself more rich in friends than I ever really knew. Corey is a beautiful young woman, intelligent, witty, wise, and clumsy as well. Were she single, and understood my lifestyle more (to know that Master/slave isn't the only avenue), she'd be an almost perfect match... Aside from the fact she's not a gamer. However her intelligence and wit make up for it.

Ah well... Stitches are out, hurrah. Will be gettingmy antibiotic tomorrow along with the paxil which will (supposedly) balance out my moods.

So that is all... Stitches are out, I start work in less than a week, I'm developing a social life again, I have an illegal alien cheating lying stalker, and life is... Good.

Peace,

Chris

The Lap Dance is So Much Better When the Stripper Is Crying

Truer words have never been spoken.

Well, perhaps they have, and of course, making someone cry, is really just a cruel side of me, but that's neither here nor there.

So with a new shift of 8-12 and 5-9 daily (that is morning and afternoon respectively), I've been pushing my schedule to fit in more properly with what will be my new work schedule.

This entry is merely here because of an irony I've discovered... Which is, amusingly enough, that the music I've been listening to for the past two days, is music that Sarah got me into, which in turn Andrew got her listening to.

Now this would normally not be anything of importance, except as I listen to the music, to the words, I can't help but see where the lyrics fit me... They are so... Dark... On several levels. Listening to Red, and actually listening (something Sarah rarely does with music, more listening to the sounds), I find myself thinking how the words are me... How they reflect my thoughts.

On a side note, of little importance... Looking through my phone backgrounds, I found a nude photo of Sarah... Never knew I had any of those. Will leave it until I decide if I want to keep the memory, or delete it.

So today, after nearly a year of silence... A dear friend has made himself known again.

Neal used to give me a lot of advice, someone I could talk to, confide in, and he'd not divulge even my greatest sins to anyone but himself. He was, and is, someone whom has the great potential to be a very dear friend to me. How little bit we speak, however, tends to put a crutch on that....

I gave him my confession today... About the past week, the darkness in my mind, my sinful actions and thoughts... And we had a great philosophical discussion, before moving on to friendlier things... We spoke on the phone for over two hours... The longest I've spoken to someone in one sitting in a very very very very long time.

I can only hope he stays as a fixture in my life. I have too few friends, and a friend that can shine a light into the darkest corners of my mind, one whom is a Priest (and as such must be keep my words in confidence), is greatly valued.

Ah well, two hours of conversation, roughly 75 minutes of it was our deep discussion, the rest was on video games, Project Natal for the X-Box 360, and just... regular stuff.

That is all for today,

Chris.

The Explanation

I think back to friday night, I remember my final words to Sarah, that she was coming back at 10:45pm, and I think back to waiting for her, outside, until 11:00pm.

I then remember thinking, that this was it. I knew of course at that moment, she'd not be coming back until she intended on collecting her things. I didn't know when that would be, but I knew, with her not on suicide watch anymore, I had exactly what I wanted.... An empty house, no work to go to, no obligations, no one expecting me, no one waiting for a call, no plans in the foreseeable future.

I remember judging, weighing that inside... Sarah was gone... No one was there to watch me, to keep my dark thoughts inside, and no one would miss me were I gone... Hell, most of my friends are used to going days, sometimes weeks, without a word from me, it would not be that much of a difference.

I spent several hours speaking with Mathue, a friend of Sarah's, on her MSN. He said I didn't seem like that bad of a guy. I smirked on my side of the computer, to think of that... I disillusioned him of his thoughts before the end of the conversation, that I was, indeed, a bad person.

I took a lot of time thinking that night, and wrote out the note that would be found on my computer, even saved in all caps to my desk top incase it were closed by accident while they rummaged through for a reason.

It was nearly two hours of build up before I piled Sarah's blankets in the shower, as my original intention was not to have water involved, but to merely warm my body to allow the blood to flow... Now, as a warning to those going on, I am going to unload the night I tried to kill myself... Run it through by details... I need this for myself, to get it out there... If you don't want to read this, don't want to see this, then skip down to the next set of dotted lines to know it is over.

-------------------

The first cuts were on my left wrist... deep enough to bleed, but no where's near the muscle... I didn't know how I was going to proceed with it, even as I was bleeding onto the fabric beneath me.... it started to clot of course, as all wounds do... It was at this time I turned the water on, made it warm, almost hot... and only kept one blanket in with me, her red one...

I never thought it would look like it did... When I finally put the razor blade to my arm, and ripped it one way and my arm the other.... I was reminded of the scar on my biological brother's arm.... Looking almond shaped, with points of black/red amid the pinked muscle... Then I saw it... The squirt. Blood came from my arm like a fountain, the artery nicked... hardly cut solid, but I thought to myself, "This is it... I'm going to die... After so long of saying it... I'm finally going to accomplish it here, tonight..." I wore a grim smile, as I turned to my other wrist....

The cut went across, it didn't strike the artery, didn't pierce through the muscle as it had on the left side. I tried, but the pain was rather strong, and my left hand was starting to go numb from the loss of blood...

I knew I'd failed at this moment... that without at least four of the six arteries in my arms cut, I'd not die.... I'd bleed, become weak, and merely suffer further alive... I called 911 myself... Was picked up in the ambulance and arrested under the mental health act for the attempt.

---------------------------------

It's safe to read again.

So as I look at my wrists... the bruising around the stitches a telling sign that they are healing properly.... Knowing that after 8 years of controling the dark thoughts and emotions that run rampant in my mind, attempting this again, via the same avenue... I find myself wondering, quietly to myself... Why I do it the way I do.

Even the ambulance tech said there are better ways to do it, such as a gun. I don't own a gun, and with this arrest on my record (though it is not criminal), I can't ever see anyone selling me a gun... My uncle commited suicide... He was deep into drugs and depression, and he shot himself in the head. My Uncle Paul.... I have his baseball glove in my closet, and the ball with it... It's splattered with his blood, dried into the fabric and leather.

I look at these marks on my wrists... Things which will mark me for life. Something that will, for as long as I live, announce to anyone who looks, that I tried to send myself to the afterlife before my time. Why did I do it like this? So many easier ways... A Black market gun bought on the streets, death by cop, poisoning by household cleaners, over dose on the pills I have... I know I know... Grim thoughts, and I've no intention of the repeat performance... I'm merely reflecting...

I'm reflecting because, as I come back from the store, on a nice day as today (which is warm, with a soft breeze), and no long sleeves to cover the marks, no bandages, nothing hiding them... I'm ashamed of the marks, not that they are there, but that I am.... I find myself wondering... Now that I have failed, am I flaunting this failure, this shame, for attention?

It's feasible, though I'm not doing to strongly... Therefore I don't deem it that great of a sin, that horrendous of an act.

In the meantime, I'll relax, chat casually with the one whom keeps tabs on Sarah and Andrew, and smile in amusement as they struggle to find out who betrays them, and knowing that, if they did ever delve deep enough, ask enough questions, and search... The answer on where certain loyalties lie, would astound them.

Aside from this passing amusement, and the fact the person I speak with has become something of a friend, I'm not concerned... If they find out, or don't, or if they simply don't care. It, similar to talking to Damien about my ex Mecca, is merely idle conversation.

Ah well... Just my mind wandering... I think, on my appointment on monday, I'll speak with my doctor about a psychiatrist... There is such a darkness in me, a cold, unrelenting evil, that I simply can't share with those around me... Things I've done, want to do, things that prod at the back of my mind, begging release, that needs to be let out on some level... A shrink can't speak of such things... Seems the best route to clear my mind, vent my thoughts, with a simple ear to listen.

I have Home Agent. All I need to do is cross the Ts, and dot the Is, and I'm in. They've finally finished the paperwork... I merely have to find out my new shift, and of course pick up the equipment, and when I come back from medical leave, it shall be done.

Those are all the things I have on mind at the moment... Alas, I wish you, my readers, could be divulged of the darkness in my mind... Sadly, even you are too sensitive for it. Makes me miss Bobbi.

Be Safe,

Chris.

Therapeutic?

I'm healing. Slowly, to be sure. I have a doctor's appointment next week to have the stitches removed and to try another worthless antidepressant.

My back, surprisingly, has not been bothering me near as much as it had been in the past, which makes me silently wonder what was causing the flare up, and rather pleased that the absence of her using me has shown an improvement in it.

I still of course intend to go for home agent, it is something I've wanted for some time, and figure if it has been started at this point, and is this far along, why ruin it?

The last of Sarah's things have gone out with the garbage this morning. Including her pikachu stuffed animal, and a few pictures she neglected to grab... Not bad art work, I half considered keeping the near nude of her character Devon, and the shot of all her characters on a couch. Decided it would be much better to throw them out (almost burned em).

Through sources, I've been told that her and her lover are engaged to be wed, though she stays with Kristen outside of barrie right now. Now all they need to do is find the father of her child for her I.D. before she gets deported... I can say, in all seriousness, I've ceased to care. Out of sight, out of mind, and I figure, friday night gave me all that I needed from her in the end.

I'm at home now, in case you can't tell, with me putting the garbage out.

I realize, that in this particular case, I'm stuck as a form of recluse, as I can't leave the home without long sleeves, and taking a shower is a pain in the ass, since the stitches can't get wet (which even with plastic bags over my arms isn't fool proof).

As a final note, with no way to contact Sarah, and finding out that she changed all her login information on her WoW account, I'm forced to suffer the cancelling of my credit card and the arrival of a new.

Suppose that is one downside to purchasing game time for someone you expect to be with, that you don't take the information off the account, and it ends up costing $70 every three months.

I'll be cancelling the card within the week of course, as I've no doubts in the slightest that she'll ever speak to me, comment to this journal, message me, email me, or make any contact with me again. Not a complaint, merely an observation.

Ah well, back to reading my books, as it's about all I can do for the time being until Stargate SG-1 downloads.

Later,

Chris.

Lapse of Control

Sarah is gone, permamently. She actually had the nerve to call the police to come collect her things with her, for "safety" *smirks*

She knows I'm not violent, and yet, she still felt the need to do such a thing? Tisk.

This entry will be brief, as I am not on my own computer, I'm at a friend's house (Shaun) and will be so for a couple days.

The why is simple enough, I lost control, and in that loss, attempted to kill myself.

I split the flesh on both arms, hit an artery in the left, missed it in the right (not deep enough), and bled out a fair bit, yet not enough for lasting damage or harm.

I called 911 myself, and spent half the day in the hospital, released on the condition I'd be willing to try antidepressants, and that I would not be alone for a couple of days after the happening. Shaun and Becca are all too willing to help with that.

I'm glad for friends like them, they're rare for anyone, and almost non-existent for me.

On a final note, however, as I'm sure she's going to read this at least to keep up on me a little... Sarah's blankets were damp, or wet, when she picked them up.... I used them as warming blankets to keep my blood flow going... They may have some blood on them. Suppose it's a part of me that will always be there.

I'm alright, people. I don't intend a repeat performance, and merely wanted everyone to know the outcome (which was 9 stitched total).

Farewell,

Chris

Out for the day

Sarah is gone, and I've decided to go out for the whole day. Breathe, get some air, and keep her out of my home and away from her things for at least one day. With the doors locked, she isn't going to get very far.

She can get them at night, or another time, for the time being... Well. I'm leaving to get some fresh air for the day.

The Zodiak

Blind

So, I can't help but notice, half way through the year, I have more entries written now, than I've written in a full year in 2008 and 2007. Just a side note before the storm.

I've been blind, apparently more so than I thought I could ever be. I pride myself on reading people, on knowing how they'll act before they actually do. I've been this way for a very long time. In this time, I've noticed how people respond to situations, when they are hiding something, and can usually ascertain what.

My entire relationship with Sarah, I've been paranoid, suspicious, suspecting that she was hiding something, every sad smile, every forlorn look, every night she didn't want to be near me, let alone sexual.

I always passed this off as paranoia. That I was simply seeing shadows where there were none. I never pried, never snooped around looking for my answers. I never eavesdropped on her conversations, and I never intruded more than casually.

Until today.

Journal entries made only on her computer. Shamed that she was lying to me, that she had full intent to leave me and was only using me. Confirming my every suspicion, my every voiced protest that she was with me only until Andrew got his act together.

I wasn't blind, I was side tracked by actually feeling something other than numbness. I was an idiot, a fool, and naive.

Suppose it's better I found all of this out now, before I let her stay her longer, let her use me further. She's out right now, running errands, being with him. I can't say she's out there fucking him, or being intimate with him, I know she's not mocking me. She's too caring for that, feeling too obligated, and likely consumed by guilt to feel that.

That puts this at the edge of my understanding, the end of my kindness, support, my blindness to her actions and deeds. She'll not sleep her again, not tonight, not ever. She'll stay elsewhere, and I'll be sure of that.

Her things, her possessions.... I'm not sure yet, but I can't help but think that I'll merely give her the weekend to remove them from my premise before I put them on the curb with garbage day.

I have no patience any longer for my own gullibility. I made a monumental mistake in my own selfless act to help her....

There'll be another entry later, once I dig it up from the files on my computer to post it. An entry written months ago, that was never to be posted until this happened... Will see if I can find it.

Done,

The Zodiak.

Sliver of Hope, Monumental Despair

So Sarah just now realizes that I am insane. A pile of contradictions, unpredictability, and polarities.

I can't realize if this is because it simply wasn't -that- evident before, or if she simply didn't see it until now. I can only assume I adapted enough, hid enough, kept enough of the rest of me beneath the surface, that it wasn't that evident. Sarah is hardly an unobservant person (even if she doesn't see me watching her sleep for a few hours... She's sleeping after all).

I noted her looking at places on her computer... Going from site to site on kajiji, viewing places her and Kristen (a male), and Andrew, and Mathue could move into together.

It sent a jagged lance through my stomach. Contradicting what I had said just a day before, that I didn't want her to leave until necessary, this pain spurred me on to tell her to find a place as soon as possible and to get out. To just leave me to my misery and begone.

Which ended up sending her into a spiral, as per my usual spurned self, I hardly put the words gently... She accused me of not understanding her pain, as I had accused her of not understanding mine. She told me I was pathetic, nothing but contradictions, that she was doing her best not to show the hurt, her pain, in all of this.

She apparently does better than I, since I've been unable to even feign proper functionality. Staying in bed all hours of the day, not able to even sleep until near to, if not well past, noon... However, the argument burst forth on many fronts, with how both of us were hurting for her decision that we'd not be together...

I'll not deny my own instability. My own threats of death and self-destruction which I feel are merely imminent. I won't deny my open honesty about those feelings, thoughts, desires. Which in turn prompted her, two nights ago (saturday night), to run out, screaming that I could enjoy my life for as long as I lived after she killed herself from jumping from the anne street bridge.

I told her friend and ex-lover Andrew of her intention and to meet her there... He didn't respond, and I was unsure if he had left, or what was going on, and I did something I'd never actually done before... I called 911.

So four cruisers, two bridges, one park, and one at my place later... She comes home, with Andrew... The officer at my place asked her if she were ok, if she didn't want to stay with me, asked if she preferred to stay elsewhere for the evening.

She reassured him that she was fine where she was, and that all was well with the world. She was just out to clear her head and get some air due to the argument we had had previous... Which she didn't divulge to the officer, thankfully, as the argument consisted of who would be to blame if I did kill myself, and myself assuring her it would not be her, as I'd had these thoughts long before she came into my life.

So back to last night... Our argument put her in a manic state, where she decided to use my wall as a rebound block for her head. Given that it is an outside wall with brick on the other side, it's not the brightest thing to do... She dented my wall and gave herself a severe headache. By the time she stopped crying, with myself opening up some of my contradictory nature to her... We talked.

Did it get anywhere? I don't think it did. I can't even remember if we actually came to a conclusion as of whether I wanted her out sooner, or not at all (aka later).

I know I read her some of my poetry from old.... One which in essence only has a moral of, "I don't know what I want, who I am, or where I'm going, and all I can do is give you my life." Though her response was sarcastic to simply state, "well I don't want your blood." in reference to one of the lines of the poem. I'm sure she got the meaning anyways though.

What I do remember of the discussion, is her saying there may be a chance, that in time, in the next month or so, maybe we can work this out, and try again. I don't place much on the odds of a chance. One in a million.... 7 2 under against pocket Aces with the flop being A2K and both hands played face up.

Who stays in with one pair for the turn and river, against triples with one low pair? Only thing to save it would be two more deuces on the turn and river, because the rest hands the pot to the pocket pair.

The odds are monumental, to say the least. I've seen it happen in poker, twice.... Just as I've seen a royal flush on a real table, dealt out almost perfect (9, 10, J, Q, K) and a player riding the Ace.

They are odds I don't like gambling on, odds I doubt will ever come to fruition, and odds that I will, nevertheless, shoot for, try for, and see what happens, if it happens. No sense folding when you won't be able to make blind next hand anyways. May as well push all in, because a 0.000001% chance is better than a 0% chance.

As I've heard said before, it's better to have part of something, than all of nothing. Though I think that one more bites me in the ass, since if I can't have her as a lover -and- a friend, I don't want to endure the pain of her as a friend alone. Contradictions abound.

My back is bothering me today, which means I'm going to neglect going to the Lab for my X-ray, since I must walk... But will instead stay up until she wakes up, and sleep in my own bed.

All I can say, in simple truth, is that I do love her, more than anything, or anyone, else in my life. That my deluded psyche tells me to fall into oblivion at the end of having her in my life, is little I can control. She says if I truly loved her, I'd want to be her friend after all is said and done... I'd rather amputate a limb, for the pain would be less, than to endure the agony in my chest in such a situation... In fact, if such could be a fair trade, I'm sure I could live without my left hand, or perhaps a foot or leg, if it meant never feeling the pain of loss again.

One day at a time, gods on high. Watch over me, as you always have, and please, guide this situation to a proper, and preferably desired, resolution.