A Mockery of my Intermission for the Becoming of My Presence

Today was a true kick in the pants, which I needed to further my actualization.
I feared being fired today, walked out of work for the second time this week, and started throwing various objects throughout the kitchen of the restaurant. I now know that I've reached lunacy. And overcome, I want to believe. What are we doing with our lives, I asked. I dunno, he replied, as carefree as always, and thus it remains. But course is set, and we're now stapled to the repercussions of that acceptance. The fear won't stand. I won't stand for fear. My evening just had a very solid finale when I found a centipede in my shower, one of my greatest fears of the galaxy, next to the newly coined "HARDCORE REPUBLICANS," though I abolished his torso and limbs. It was gruesome.

And now you. Perhaps my stomach is in uproar because of the vast amount of time we've spent, and how eager you are to please me... and I find myself resisting the natural urges to please you. This is a year later. This is only halfway point from a proven stagnation, if you let it be so. Or, as we discussed, you could allow us to "live together"... and live together. Somewhere in the recesses of my striking and overly intense consciousness, this all proves a point to myself, to him, to you, to them. Fuck. But fuck them. Fuck me. Fuck him, at times. And fuck you if you're enabling yourself the contentment that you've been preaching is malnourished and uneventful. And then again you brought this to our attention this evening... and could we worship each other any more than we do? Why do we do it?

Oh, answers still so unclear. You enable me, however, and I must kick it up a notch to motivate myself IMMENSELY over these next few months, if I'm to flourish with every obstacle stacked. How frivolously fate has crafted all calling parties to my attention all at once: so clever as to force me to confront tomorrow, today, and the present. And the fears and disillusions. And I crave it. This new sense of immediacy is just perfectly presented to me at this unbearable time. I put myself in every situation in my mind before it actually occurs. I know I'll cry when Stephen Streck leaves us to join the Air Force. I'll fucking rage with passion with a hug unimaginable to the untested bonds. But it's coming. So much preparation, regard, and disregard I adore and very wholly praise in you and our dear friend Shelbs. Your pace will be unparalleled, and I'm striving to match it. That's companionship.

Move me to tears. Please. Tonight I was persuaded to attend this party not too far from my home, so I did in fact join the fun. And I forced myself to rise to what the situation demanded. And it worked pretty well. I conjure laughs, encouragement, and some sort of cockeyed respect. All the while, boosting confidence which barely exists, and is very tough to summon. Though I will when I'm beaten down to the dirt. And today I royally beat myself into powder. So fuzzy, clouded, fatigued, shaky, disarrayed... a hot mess inside out with the vapor production. Just solid to mush, as a centipede in the shower.

Straight up skank status...