Timothy

Illusions. Lines. Drawn & Quartered.

There are lines in the sand. Some I'll cross, some I won't, some I'm forced to.

I play the game too often. I've never claimed to be better person than anyone else, I can't, that would be far to hypocritical of me and I try not to be, it happens though, even when I don't want to be, but like anyone else, self interest creeps in and you find yourself wrapping yourself in that delicious cloak of comfort call hypocrisy.

The drama I'd been foisted with is almost over. 1 last person to punt from the house and then it'll be just me and a house filled with strangers, save of course the architect of disaster, the unstable one, and of course, my best of friends, who happens to be married to her. She complained the other day of "not getting her way", and both my friend and I backed her into a corner and told her to shut the fuck up, she just got her way, she forced out 6 people from our house out of the 12 who live here, a 7th will not be returning, and the collateral damage was, quite, awesome, at least 4 other people will never speak to either of them, and it's unlikely any of the 6 will ever speak to me.

The most unfortunate is the loss of a, paramour, whom I suspect would have been a rather long lasting one. Certainly be a memorable experience, the soaked sheets, the shivering legs, the luscious lips, and a mind, oh she thought she was dumb, but, I never saw it, her laugh and the perils of purile joy I so rarely experience. It's probably best we only ever had a short dalliance, I'm positive I would have fell in love with her, not usure I didn't. But thats what life is, it's experiences. And this one, I won't soon forget.

So, the past 2 months have been terrible, and wonderful, and awful and filled with love, sex, pain, and, death. A friend of mine died in a car accident 2 weeks ago, I've had no one to talk about it, not that my best friend isn't around to talk to, he's just, not quite, all there to do such with. My favorite friend to talk with at midnight and beyond has dropped from the earth, and one my dearest friends, Lorraine, dead, at 27, along with her wild lesbian fiance-forever Alicia, who I once had the distinct pleasure of, having my way with, for a weekend. We had sex for hours, and then we played Mario Cart in our underwear for 11 hours. She claimed even up to several months ago, that in 6 years she never slept with another man, I was her last. I don't know if I believe it, but I like to.

We hold onto our illusions and we hope to never to pierce the veil.

Things are too real. I won't rescue the damsel.

while in distress. she's the lie.

and I'm the cake.