crossroads. pt.1

It's interesting to see how people react and how people feel when they're in the death throes of a friendship. I mean, I would have expected myself - and perhaps in my younger years I may have been this kind of individual - to have kicked off about it; to bring everything to some kind of shock and awe closure, with some sort of sensational revelation. Yet these days to my ripened mind such a concept smacks of immaturity. The scenario now is such that I feel a strong sense of glum resignation when the situation occurs.

Two people change their outlooks, or, even one in some cases, and you persevere for a length of time. Yet the more combative of the two will eventually get frustrated, rebel against the status quo and arguments will be had. After some period of cooling off time, reconciliation attempts will be made by both people and for a while things will carry on until it flares up again once more, and the process will repeat itself. Yet with each attempt at reconciliation, each person grows less and less receptive, and as of such grows less and less interested. Even in the calm periods the combative soul feels a sense of unwanted acceptance. In a lot of instances they know they've tried to have obligatory 'heart-to-heart' with said person, but they either can't get their point across, or they flatly don't want to be associated with the person that the other has become. Not for reasons of face or perceived coolness, but merely that the fundamental fabric of their personality has changed.

The above I know, and it's where I am presently; but the next chapter is in truth yet to be written. Call it the disconsolate outlook I'm experiencing, but I have a strong feeling that like passing ships in the night, we will grow further and further away until one is no longer visible on the horizon.

There is of course another feeling or belief that this, and that is of hope. At my core, I am a hopeful person; this hope gets constantly dismissed by depressive outer layers before it even reaches my consciousness. Through the juxtaposition of both thoughts some kind of paradox occurs and I'm constantly drowned with self doubt. Of course; this is no exception.

Do I need to 'be the bigger man' and get over this latest setback, or am I totally comfortable with the fact that this has been on the cards for a while, and it's simply time to head out to sea? 

Envy.

Armed with the new-found knowledge that I am in fact something of a neurotic shit, I do at least have something of an understanding of why when I see a good friend doing well, I have a little pang of resentment go off inside me. Of course, it's a hateful thing to admit to anyone when you're first instinct when you hear that your mate has a new girlfriend is envy and resentment. 

How's that cunt got laid and not me? Me. me. Me. I'm amazing. No one else. ...And thus the cycle of being a neurotic shit continues. 

I'm trying, desperately hard, in honestly to try to arrest this thought process. In truth though the thing that's bothering me most about it is the fact that I'm trying to change instinct. This is pretty much ingrained in me, and there's a truth in the idea that I won't be able to change my way of thinking because I don't believe I can, and I don't believe I can change the way I think because I can't. A charming paradox, if you will. 

Abyss.

He'd been thrown into the great abyss. Other's voices washed over him like the intangible sound of great leaden anchors dragging along the rutted, uneven sea floor. He felt himself sinking lower, yet with no reference or knowledge of yet how much nether he would scuttle.

The abyss was a black, shapeless form that enveloped all who so much as approached it. Michael had not merely approached it; he had been sent hurtling in, head first by the news that he was once again alone. He tried to stem the tide, yet the mere concept of resistant struggle was the stuff of myth and legend; the Stygian had void paralyzed him as it drew him further down..