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Excali-blog - Dust of Broken Heart -OR- Excuses, excuses, excuse ME!


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<----my third daughter Phoebe painted this image of Papa




Just remember...

"Love Sorsha? I don't love her! I HATE HER! She kicked me in the face!"

and who does he get hooked up with in the end? SORSHA!









I have to post about Eva and how much I miss her.

I know I had some 'healthy' posts about my empty forge or my eternal scars (undecided upon prankish god-tats I call them. Real tats are for pussies. SO YOU INTENTIONALLY SAT THERE WHILE SOMEONE BARFED OUT A FIFTY CENT MACHINE STICKER ON YOUR SOON TO BE OBESE BODY PART TO DISTORT AND SUPERDEFORM AND EMBARRASS YOUR IN YOU ELDER YEARS BY CHOICE! GOD DIDN'T ASK IF I WANTED THESE SCARS AND I SURELY DIDN'T SAY THAT I DID BUT I GOT THESE TATS WHERE THEY SHOW, OKAY? OKAY?) over the past
few blog entry thingies.

I LOVE YOU Evalynne, you still-ignoring-me-like-I-don't-exist-and-that's-pretty-close-to-the-apparitious-truth self that I don't know that you are.

Part of knowing you are in love with someone at first sight is the feeling of anxiety in getting to know them finally, or in my case the never ending, burning, twisting, aching pain of waiting to know if I could ever speak to or see her and why everything got so horribly confused!?!

I'm sorry if I truly frightened anyone with my poetry or with my message.

All I wanted to say, like a broken record, is that I love you.

I don't know if you're with someone or anything about you really. I feel like I got played in the worst kind of game dealt from the highest heights with the lowest intentions for the sickest reasons and with no regard to love.

I know what love is. I also know that if you toy with it it comes out to play and proves and disproves things quite readily.

We are all specks of light trapped in between the hemispheres of the brain which are angels that are speaking on your behalf (they are your voice, that most certainly is NOT you), left and right. They are only truly interpreting what this speck of light is lit up about.

All of the meaning of your life is to try and appease this speck, this wrestling to become real. Nothing you do really means much to it save for those feelings of real need.

When love happens, that speck lights up like there's no tomorrow and both hemispheres are in complete agreement that the tiny speck knows what it(the real you) wants, for a change!

"When any two meet and agree in my name so shall it be in the heavens and on the earth."

I've pleaded that you speak with me. I'm convinced you don't really read this in preparation for the let down of possibly being with you one day and being prepared to hear "I never read that..." and not be destroyed..

The reason I don't watch you (and haven't since all of this, months ago now) is because you could very easily destroy me with words like "I wish he would just kill himself." which probably wouldn't be a good thing for me to hear. Or "I hate him more than anything and wish he was dead.", or something equally horrible and naive. I worry that you may truly galactically wish for my imminent doom and have a perfect plan for it. With all of the impossibly synchronized events associated with this I would never think it was not planned quite perfectly from above with nothing but my destruction in mind.

Either way...

I love you. I hold nothing against you (until you tell me to).

I miss you, Eva.

I love you.



http://atariage.com/forums/blog/634/entry-13907-dust-of-broken-heart-or-excuses-excuses-excuse-me/
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