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2001-11-01 03:47:03 (UTC)

31 Oct. 2001 Wednesday 9:28 pm. Living on Dreams

Anyhow, I made an entry just a few minutes ago, but it
didn't say what I really wanted it to say. It was just
mostly the usual meditations on melancholy that run through
my mind like muddy water. What I was thinking is that I
have lived my life on dreams, on fairy tales, that I can
get a great job with lots of money and have fine things, a
fine wife (but probably no kids because I really don't like
kids) and a nice peaceful serene life, where my mind isn't
filled with suffering. These dreams haven't come true yet,
and I feel so powerless to make them come true. What is
wrong with me? Am I insane? Why don't I just kill
myself? It would hurt my parents. They would probably
never recover and life has scarred them both bad enough.
Mom was abused as a child, Grandpa would beat his kids
savagely with a belt when the least thing set off his hair
trigger temper. Then she married my dad, thinking he was
the man of her dreams only to find out that he liked to
drink and chase women. She's never forgiven him in the 39
years they've been married. I don't think Dad was suited
to marriage at all. I do know he is miserable with Mom and
she's miserable with him. They are completely different.
Seems like most cliches are true. I'm thinking of the one
that life wounds all heels. How can anyone believe in
beauty or God or anything when everything seems so black?
I guess you could say I was born into a stormy house. Like
The Doors song, "into this house we're born, into this
world we're thrown." At least I think that's how it goes.
I've only really listened to it when I've been drinking and
my mind wasn't at its clearest. I should buy the cd and
listen to it over and over and over because it seems to fit
my mood so well.