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Friday: May 16th, 2008.

It's my day off from work. I figure if the rain ever lets up I'll walk over and grab my check. Might take the transit to Wal*Mart so I can pick up a few necessities.

I continuously get an overwhelming feeling that I need to get my ass back to Maine. Yet I love the independence. The lack of familiarity. The battle to become established in life without the helping hand of anyone else.
I love having an individual who comforts me. Who loves me. Someone who I can confide in honestly and openly. That's a great feeling, one in which I wasnt sure I'd ever find.

When you break it down fragment to sediment...IF I LIVE HERE MUCH LONGER, I WILL STAGNATE. I will be another face in a town of prison inmates. I'll have kids I cant support. No education. Minimum wage jobs. I'll struggle day to day wishing I would have listened to the entirety. Thats a train of thought in which a person can change or just start to believe until it settles inside them so deep there is no change there is only progress into the miserable future you set yourself up for.
That isnt me. I see what I could become, and that I will not. I know where I need to be...the hard part is letting the one you love, go. Go down their miserable path ALONE.

I have times at night when I lay in bed starring at his sleeping face, really wondering if "I love him" or just love the fact I found someone who has given me the time of day on an emotional, physical, and mental level.
I dont love that he smokes 2 paks a day or drinks 5 twelve paks a week. I dont love that he spends his money on fruitless shit. I dont love kissing him the morning after he's been drinking and smoking all night. I dont love the fact he never helps clean around the house.I dont love having sex with him that often. I dont love how he gets off on my discomfort. I dont love the constant attempts at anal intercourse. I dont love his lack of self dental care. I dont love alot about him. yet I do love how he massages my body. I love how we confide in one another. I love when we cuddle. I love when he surprises me with small gestures. I love when he kisses my ears. I love.....I love him. I hate him. I cant stand him at times. I cry. I laugh. I defend. I condescend. I avoid. I complain. I hide. I lie. I try. I give him my all.

I'm indecisive and have a decision to make.

The rain has tapered off a bit and I'm broke as a crack whore bitch...time to trek over to work and get that caaashola.

Dehydration is a bitch

I'm alive and well...and very surprised I even remember my password to this journal.

That's all I have to say for now, oh yea, and I'm hung over downing Fanta Orange soda. mmm
I feel relieved, and so...
onward I ride to where a free spirit left off.

Happy Shades of Shit

Going off the fly and starting fresh...
I figured the username Hail_Auschwitz just doesn't fit anymore. I've wanted to change it for a while, but even with all the advancements LiveJournal has made, it falls short with not having the ability to change your username free of cost. Bastids!

While fiddling with my thoughts lately and creating a great plot outline for my newest writing piece the French verb Tromper, meaning to trick or to fool, has become the basis for what I'd like to write about. Vague, I know, deal with it. Bitches.

It all began when I was reading an art book my sister had picked up at college. I've forgotten the name. Its not in sight and I really don't feel like moving. I'm cold. I have my headphones on. That would involve me taking them off, walking across the room, and savagely rummaging through a shit load of papers and pages. I am way too goddman lazy for that type of physical activity. Anywho...in this book was the phrase trompe l'oeil, the French term for a style of painting that appears to come right off the wall. Literally, this term means, "fool the eye."

Once I get a sturdy foundation under this piece I'll elaborate. I don't want to jinx my motivation yet.

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