what wanders through my mind on days like this? i sit in the darkness and i try to think about such detailed questions as: who am i (not what i do)? why am i here (besides for the fact that it is dark, and i can't see well enough to leave)? what should i be doing with my life (digesting dinner and desperately attempting to fall unconscious)? as you can easily see from the words before you, there are mild interruptions that occur constantly. it seems that the mind plays turncoat to itself - it refuses to be quantified and will never let itself be pacified. i envy those that have seen the face of lucifer. for that matter, i am rather envious of all of those people that are capable of seeing themselves in mirrors. my apologies. i lost track of that thought.

         my father is trying to convince my mother to move to california. my brother, obviously, is vehemently against it, and my mother is not particularly joyous either. i should be more or less ambivalent; after all, if all goes well, i should not have to go home for a good long while, and for only a week per year at best. still, there is a sense of detachment and resentment about myself; of anger and denial. i wonder why? my mother says that my father is lonely and needs someone to talk to... i want to scream at this (talk to! why? you never fucking talked to us when you were home!) and a twinge of guilt tickles my stomach. i am surprised at this, and when i turn inward to look, it sees it's chance; i am in emotional shock, and it rears back and is let loose. now that trickle of guilt is a full flood, and i feel miserable about wanting to be back in baltimore. i turn to look around, and decide against it; physical movement would mirror the emotional turmoil occurring inside, and i cannot be weak, i cannot waver from my goal. i think of how long it has been since i have felt comfortable (physically) around people and my gut decides to tell me. once again, i wait for baltimore. the car continues into the night, and the guilt rides along in it, with me as the baggage.

         why should i feel so bad about this? already, my friends are leaving this town; several have bought apartments and i have not seen them for over a year. two have joined the army (one of them i shall not see for at least 3 years, and the other i have just seen for the first time in three years, only to lose him to college as well). one has gotten married and left (without a forwarding address - caught up in my research i do not even attend the wedding). one lives in chicago, and refuses to return any correspondence. they scattered to the four winds long ago; friends that were once close have left me, and friends that were not once friends are my crowd now. the end results of the culling i suppose - you make do with whomever is left after college. there are no good-byes, we are grown now. mature. we need no one save ourselves, and anyone that we happen to see along the way to our destiny is simply a bonus. with luck and a headwind, we shall be taking our roots with us when we leave again.

         and all this is rationalization. my speech has not calmed my gut any, and indeed the opposite has occurred; for i know now that i am trying desperately to survive emotionally. college has been such a strange experience for me. i believed in my heart that i was never going to be this involved in anything. and yet, again and again it occurs here. it lacks the bitterness of before (well, perhaps i lie a little, now, but in the grand piano of things, it makes not a difference), but there is more than enough intensity of emotion to make up for it.

         i come to a stop, and realize i am home again. i didn't hit anything on the way, i am glad to realize. do i have a right to call this home? am i tied to this? what will i feel if my mother gives in and they move - if we move? i walk into the house, and my mother is saying something to me. even amidst all the guilt and confusion, the resentment that she is actually talking to me comes through. i ignore whatever she is saying and walk downstairs, closing the door behind me. once there, i gracefully retire to sleep and lose myself behind the walls of unconsciousness. there are no mirrors here that i can cry in front of. there are no qualms about anything that i do. there is a clear understanding in my eyes of what the universe is all about. but i digress, and i falsify my dreams as well. i rarely remember my dreams, and what i do remember has no real bearing upon reality. most of my dreams are like my memories - they are vague and i remember having them, but no more than that. "we cross our bridges when we come to them, and burn them behind us, with no more to show for our progress than a memory of the smell of smoke and the presumption that once our eyes watered." forgive me, my lord, for my trespass into thy domain.

         all this is almost enough to make a christian out of me (or a satanist...) do you ever feel sorry for the devil? i wonder what he thinks of all this; he has lost the battle and is condemned to hell forever. does he like it there? for he of all the lost souls can remember what it was like in paradise...