so close, and so far

Monday, the 5th of October, 2003.

A lot went down since last time I wrote. I am trying to decide what is more important to write about; the flood of emotions that my days consist of or the events themselves. Right now I want to talk to somebody, somone my age, in english... a friend... I just want to reach an intellectual (or sub intellectual) level of conversation.
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My mind won't compute my thoughts into sentences. I feel like something is looming over my tongue but I just can't find it. It is like that chunk of raw skin that you can't stop biting, then you forget about it , and the when you finally find it with your tongue, it is huge. I just haven't found it yet.
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Went to a strip joint this weekend. Don't know what to think about it. It turns men into something ugly, and women into meat, I was barely turned on at all. Well, at least Ste had a good birth day lap dance and the rest of the guys obviously liked the show. I think these women really must have to deal with a lot of emotional pain... and I caused some of it...
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I have turned into a slave to flesh. A machine geared to a mindset of sex.
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I can't tell if I am learning what I am made of or what I am not made of. And I can't decide if I like what I am slowly finding out. There is a ghost on my shoulder and a demon on my back, and my hands are tied with twine. The shadow over my eyes is getting worse, and I have a sinking sensation...
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TO INNOCENCE:

I found a rock on the ground with your name on it. I had troubles reading the letters. Then I realized I just lost it all somewhere in the back of the toy bin in my childhood garage. The writing just dissapeared, your name is gone from this place. It sliped from my grasp and fell to the ground. All I could do is cry, at my lost youth, and that stone I droped. But all the tears my eyes produced wouldn't bring you back... you just waited out of my reach, somewhere I could not touch.

I TRIED to put back on the shelf by my bed like mom told me to, but the car ran right over you before I could, and It was too late to save you. I am now a huddled mess for who I am and what I have done without you. Try as much as I did to scrub that rock clean, the words were gone. All vanished.

I WOULD FIX ALL TO match my memories, to undo my stupid follies. But the mirror won't lie for me and only tells of what I am. To Innocence: I'm so sorry for what I did to you. I am so sorry I left you in the street that day.
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And to think that was just over a year ago. It seems so close and yet so far.