[Scorpio Eyes]

Alright, everyone. It's Scorpio, again. I know I've been out a while, but I'm very tired. To be totally blunt, I feel like my soul is breaking apart. Well, if I still had a soul, that is. There's this truly profound emptiness coursing through my ice-cold veins. Every day, I log in and see what's up. But, it hurts too much to read for long; more to try and write. Honestly, I consider it selfish to share and not listen to you. There's guilt that I feel. A lot of guilt. For not being able to help anyone. Not you, not my friends, not my loved ones. For emotional vampirism and lycanthropy; leeching, burdening, and siphoning the love and life out of the people closest to me - those I shared my soul with; warping myself through this tsunami of conflicting pathos, ebbing into fury, strife, and sorrow, flowing through pride, lust, and wrath, and storming without reason, rationality, direction, predictability, or mercy: I have fought these monsters that dwell inside of me, the monsters that dwell inside of others - I have fought every monster I have come across and now, I find myself succumbing to monstrosity. Just as Neitzche wrote, I did not take care - staring into that abyss, I knew I wasn't alone. These monsters stood within and without of me. As I feared the Darkness and sought Light, I was unaware that the Nothing was overwhelming me. I'm not afraid of Darkness; desire, anger, arrogance. Not anymore. Not of the Light; self-righteousness, martyrdom, hope. No, not anymore. What am I afraid of? The Nothing. Failure, guilt, and this indescribable emptiness. Yes, it's psuedo-poetic and more than a bit melodramatic; but, that's how I do things. What did Milton scribe?

"Long is the way, and hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light."

It was about redemption. How a demon may ascend into the paradise he had forsaken. If Satan may be once again allowed in the domain of the Almighty, what denies me of a possibility for redemption, atonement, and perhaps, salvation? Don't misunderstand me; I'm Agnostic. But, I was raised Baptist / Catholic, so I keep a lot of Christian theology in my metaphors. Write what you know. Regardless, I truly want to be a better person; to redeem myself - not in the eyes of whatever God or gods may or may not be, but in the eyes of the one whose forgiveness truly holds value in my life: mine.

For the past two weeks, I've been working. Two days, I had off. Today was meant to be a third; but, they called me in for a quick shift. I didn't really mind. To be honest, I need the hours. Why? I need the money. Today marks one month. The deadline. So, if I'm getting sued, I'll hear about it sometime in the next week. I'm not going to speak to her, though. If she wants this money she doesn't deserve, she can take me to court and spend more than she'll get. Both of my bank accounts have a wonderful reading of "$00.00". Truly, she's going to quite successful in winning money that does not exist. My paycheck, after I did the math, will only be around four hundred. If I don't get more hours, that is. She wants over four times that. Yeah, somehow, the people closest to me end up betraying me the most often, the most deeply, and the most remorselessly. So, this truly isn't helping the "trust issues" I've been told to have developed. Well, let's take a moment to examine this. My father abandoned me for the... one... two... three... four... fourth time, I lost the girl I loved due to the mental illness I was not yet made privy to, I was disowned and abandoned by entire maternal family, I lost every single friend from the town that I'd grown up in, I lost almost every friend I'd made in my present home, I lost every single person I called my "family" - the one that I'd managed to create for myself - all of my "brothers" abandoned me, I was driven into a traumaticly-driven catatonic state for half of the year, I lost my ability to walk, I was forced into more physical and emotional pain than I'd ever experienced before for the vast majority of the year, I was driven to two failed suicide attempts, every single doctor I saw treated me like garbage - mocking me, harassing me, dismissing me, judging me, and outright denying me multiple times, and in the most juvinile and cruel of fashions: so, no; no, I don't trust people, anymore. If you let someone into your soul, they will desecrate it. If you present someone with your heart, they will shatter it. If you allow someone your spirit, they will consume it. In this Hell that we call Earth, people will hurt you. The best way to keep from getting your heart broken is to pretend you don't have one. Even that, I'm afraid, only works for those strong enough to deny themselves the just guilt stemming from such things. I, however, am not that strong. What happened to your soul, though, Scorpio? You claim not to have one, yet you also claim not to be strong enough to renounce your guilt. Well, my apt listeners, you have brought up a point worth further notice. Where is my soul? A vast majority, in variable sized shards, are with the countless people I've "helped" throughout my life. Some of it's in the writing I've done. Everytime I spoke with empathy or scribed my feelings through a pen or keyboard, I put a little piece of my soul into it. Exactly one seventh is with the girl I used to love. It was a gift. So she'd always have me with her. Whatever was left died. Because, the Nothing gives no life. It feeds on everything; both good and ill. I am far, far, far too emotionally exhausted to believe that there's anything left. I have given this world everything I have without reward. Almost. Yes, almost everything. I regret, however, I only have one life to give. That, I must admit, must be saved until such a time and place as it's sacrifice will truly make a difference. Even though I do not deny myself a death seeker, I will not needlessly throw my life away. When I walk to the gates of the city of Dis, I will say that I did at least one noble thing in my life. Even if it was how it ended. Yes, that is how much I'm hurting right now. The numbess, not just from the winter, but from the turmoil. No, I won't take my own life. I failed at that already. Besides, I still have debts to pay and promises to keep. Heh, I'm reminded of something one of my favorite physicians once said.

"People aren't chocolates. Do you know what they are mostly? Bastards. Bastard coated bastards with bastard filling."

It's appropriate for the theme of the previous paragraph, I believe.

You know that girl I keep mentioning? The idol of my borderline, neurotic, psychotic obsession? We've been talking. So, despite expecting, deserving, and desiring to be thoroughly verbally decimated - I have yet to recieve such brutal reperations. She says she doesn't hate me, but that she was still distrusting and greatly hurt. She holds grudges; which, I knew, of course. Actually, the other night she vented to me about personal problems. Now, I'd offered to be her confidant and emotional support - shut up, I know. Yes, I'm as emotionally stable, consistent, and capable as a post-partomly depressed rabid hyena during dry season on the outskirts of the Sahara. I'm aware. I'm also aware that metaphor was rather distasteful. Apologies. But, I'm also impulsive, desperate, and willing to do anything to win back person's affection back. I explained to her what happened. I explained almost everything to her. She says she understands and that she believes me when I say that I am truly, utterly remorseful. We've been speaking on and off, but my severe anxiety and tendency to jump to conclusions, make assumptions, and generally act like an incoherent moron are making this difficult for me. My God, my God, my God - please, I can't lose her. I can't lose her, again. Please, I can't lose her; not again. The last thing she said in our game of message tag was that we ought not get ahead of ourselves. That, maybe, someday soon, she'd trust me - forgive me enough, that we could do what we used to. Just hang out, maybe eat some Chinese, watch some anime. Be friends. But, she said a while back that she would forgive me - but, I'd have to earn it. I would walk through fire if she asked me to. There is very little I wouldn't do for this second chance. For my redemption. I'm aware this is textbook borderline behavior. Get off my back. Honestly, I'm not working on the tools I've read about as much as I - okay, I'm doing my best not to lie. I'm not working on them at all. Because I they're stupid and won't work. My horrendous forgetfulness only exacerbates the issue. I can't remember any of my last session with my DBT. Next time, I need to remember to ask him to write me a summary. Little notecards that say things I ought to think about. That and I'm going to have to try and remember these tools I've read about. I can't even remember the phone number I got in July. He told me that my fractured memories are do to the monumentally wonderful job I do at splitting all information I receive. Information is either useful or useless. Useless information is automatically forgotten. Useful information is then divided into one extreme or another, therefor, I will never have a complete memory of events that have transpired thus far. Due, in no small part, to this splitting. I can't remember, so, I can't properly handle things without someone to guide me. That's rather difficult. I want to be a better person. I want to earn her forgiveness. I want her to be my friend again. I want my Palm-Top Tiger back. I know it's selfish and I don't deserve it, but I can't myself. After everything, I just want her back. Letting her go - no. Throwing her away; that was the biggest mistake of my life. Oh, and I've made some big ones. I have inadvertently stalked people, I think I actually broke a marraige accidently, I've stabbed countless people in the back without realizing it, and one of my girlfriends has explicitly said that she would be pleased if my genitals were to find themselves engulfed with flames for a serious of complicated events that I'm actually not entirely sure are all my fault. Oh, and I'm addicted to pills. Yeah. As crazy, stupid, petty, and childish as this sounds; this girl means more to me than anything. Even though my emotions are all over the place and I'm still alternating between split perspectives of her. Sometimes I get really angry, bitter, resentful, envious, and disgusted. Then I'm guilty as all Hell. I think guilty is better. So, I try and stick with that. I want my Tiger back. I want to be her Cuddle Dragon, again. Is that so wrong?

Oh, I actually enrolled in community college... yesterday. Yes, I'm now a college student. Sometime early next week, I'll hear about my financial aid and then maybe get the check for that so I can pay my tuition. Which I simply can't afford without my financial aid. Tuition, books, and supplies. I really need that money. So, for starters, I'm taking three classes. Now, my counselor assured me that even if my math score was enough for me to be angry, it was still greater than average. Why am I in remedial math, then? Does everyone start in remedial math? I have to take 097, then retake the placement test for 110, so I can take 120. Why? Because a degree in fine arts requires one math and a degree in psychology requires two math classes. I've yet to decide which I'll manage. We've got me going for the psychology major, because the majority of the english courses are just more vague than the more detailed and specific psych courses. Psych and Comp 110. Both that I actually took in High School, but because my father is an incompetent moron, I never actually got credit for. Such is my life. They offer creative writing in both poetry and fiction... but I need Comp 120 for that. I really want to take those classes. They have philosophy and sociology. There's history and the humanties; why the Hell did I wait for this? Oh. I led a two month exodus for over a thousand miles to "find myself". That ended with myself nearly dead and utterly alone. That's why. Moron. So, college and work. Rebuilding broken bridges. There's smoke damage from the fires, too. Yeah. I do really stupid things when I get angry. I've got work early in the morning and my damned leg is killing me. So, let's see if there's anything else I'd like to talk about.

No, I think I've gotten everything off my chest - for tonight. Rest easy, everyone.

[Bill3]

<Listening>