no more faustian bargains

It's been almost twenty years, but here I am. I have some things to work out. I don’t know why I write here, truly it doesn’t feel wise, but I know it helps to keep me honest. 

I am still captured by the abyss, like the me that was. The me that I robbed: picking my own pocket as I looked into my own eyes as to say everything is fine buddy, this won't hurt a bit

There is a window, a dirty pane in my subconscious, where I transmit what I see from the abyss using morse code. The translations are crude but this is my attempt to capture anything meaningful, or of consequence to me as an integrated individual.

The worst kind of liar is one that lies to themselves. I was that liar. And I know that now, and I am digging upward now. I’m honest now, even to myself. I strive toward it, anyway. I’ve been building momentum, sitting quietly, creating a foundation, letting inertia build and spin until the kinetic energy releases me from this orbit. 

Until I am free. It’s time to extract the meaning where I can, and that’s why I am here again. To talk to myself.  

I will not write about my pain to revel in it, or to glorify it. But they need excised. Even if it's just the you in me that I am talking to. The nameless and faceless you, my god.

So far in this life I have seen incredible highs, and unbelievable, unbearable lows. My ego has pushed my psyche to the dual extremes. I would like to find a reason - but everywhere I go, there I am. Maybe I'm setting up another heist that I don't see yet. I have to believe that is not true.

No more faustian bargains. My words here are a catharsis in part; but also, largely, a sincere apology to the universe for my uncanny ability to give life to a series of grandiose disasters. The cathedrals built by hand, a new one for everything I have loved. Not a single one stands today. And, my god, I beg for mercy. I need to dissect my reasoning, identify the lies, and find the piece of you, dear god, that lives in me. I've destroyed everything connecting me to all the monoliths I have built and lost. Not a picture, not a word on paper, nothing. I regret that.

Anyway. I will carve out the pieces from my memory. I will never lie to you. And perhaps the truth will lay a new foundation. And a new cathedral will rise from all the things that lie broken and useless at my feet. 

My god. Dear, silent god. I am sorry.