chainsawromeo

I put away my bag today for the last time. I could have just left it out in the open like it has been since I moved here, more or less, but lately it's been kind of like a constant reminder and it's one that I don't need right now. I should just throw it's contents out, but I've invested a lot of time, effort, and money into it, so I don't see the logic in doing this. I know that this will always be a prt of my life, a big one at that, but right now I have no need or desire to pursue it further then I already have. I have issues surrounding it, and it's nobody's fault, but at this point in my life it's doing more harm then good, so off to the closet it goes. I'll worry about it some other day. What's a few more years unfulfilled, anyways?

A few days ago I was sitting in Mrs. Chainsaw's kitchen looking at a windchime her mother has. It was done with Christian symbols and emblems, and it made me miss having faith. I miss the feeling I had when I used to believe, when I was a kid doing services at my parish and I left every Sunday feeling...... full. Filled with some mythical sense of completion, whether it was real, or all bullshit, it didn't matter because I felt like it was there. I've been toying with the idea of going back to church for months now, but I don't think I ever will. Mind you, I still believe in God and I didn't leave the church because of lost faith, I left because I couldn't stand the majority of Catholics that practiced there. They have their noses so far stuck in a book that they can't see what's going on around them; that it doesn't have to be a choice between what the bible says, that you can make your own opinions about people and practices without the aid of some sacred tome or verse. Also, I wouldn't make the greatest catholic, and if I were to go back I would need to do it with all my heart since it would be a waste otherwise. I'm not ready to give up body modifications, or having sex, or give up on these new feelings of hate and anger, I've just discovered them and they are a beautiful thing.

I guess what I'm saying is I'd rather be an excellent sinner then a half-assed saint.

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I wonder how much longer I can on feeling the way I do before I crack. I cna't go another 23 years, but with no end in sight, it's like I've already accepted defeat. This may sound grim to you, but it's not meant to be. If I expect something to happen, then I can plan for it and work around it. Maybe this is just who I was meant to be. Maybe I was meant to be alone, because I'm pretty damn good at it, I must confess. It's like the saying goes: we can't all be winners.