October 27

It makes me want to rip my chest open and smash in my skull, how little we can actually DO for each other. Ah, the love, the joy, the warmth and delight that I don’t bring to life, no one else can give me, and all the peace in my heart can’t make someone else happy when they’re standing there frozen and powerless in front of me.

October 30

The number of times I’ve been this close to just throwing myself at her! God knows what that DOES to you, seeing so much loveliness going back and forth in front of you and not being allowed to touch it; and, I mean, touching is such a natural human impulse. Don’t babies try to grab everything that gets their attention? — And me?

November 3

GOD! So much of the time now I go to bed wishing, hell, sometimes even praying I won’t wake up again… and in the morning I force my eyes open, see the sun again, and feel miserable. Ahh, I wish I had some excuse, if I could blame the weather, or someone else or some failed project or something, so that the weight of this awful checkedoutness wouldn’t all be on me… fuck me! It’s painfully clear this is all my fault, — not fault! the point is… the source of all this misery is deep inside me, just like the source of all that joy used to be. I mean, aren’t I the same guy who used to float around overflowing with feeling, finding paradise wherever he went, who had enough room and enough love in his heart to hold the whole world inside it? And now this heart is dead, the rapture tank’s empty, my eyes are dry, and without tears to relax them, my thoughts squeeze my forehead… I’m in so much pain, because I’ve lost the thing that was the only source of joy in my life: the sacred, invigorating force I built worlds around me with… it’s gone! — When I look out my window at the far-off hills, see how the morning sun above them breaks through the clouds and lights up the quiet grasslands, and the gentle stream snakes towards me through its leafless willows, — ahhh! When all this magnificent nature just hangs there in front of me as lifeless as a postcard, and all that BLISS can’t pump a single tear of joy from my heart up into my brain, and this dumbass just stands there, with transcendence right in front of him, like a dried-up well, like a cracked bucket… so many times I’ve thrown myself to the ground and prayed to God for tears, like a farmer praying for rain when the sky blazes above him and the earth is parched.

But, ahhh, I can tell, God doesn’t just hand out rain and sunshine when we whine for them, and… those times that it’s such torture for me to look back on now, what made them so blessed, other than me waiting patiently for His Spirit and drinking down the joy He poured out over me with my whole, deeply grateful heart!?

November 8

She called me out on my “extremes”! Ahhh, in the sweetest way! My “extremes”, that sometimes I let a glass of wine turn into a whole bottle. “Imagine me saying, ‘Don’t do it!’” she said, “just imagine me!” “Imagine?!” I said. “You think you need to tell me…?! Me, imagine!! — I don’t even imagine! You’re always right there in front of me. Today I sat for hours on the spot where you stepped getting out of the car.” She changed the subject to stop me getting further into it. Will, I am gone! She can do whatever she wants with me.

November 15

Hey, Will, I’m really grateful for how much you care about this, and I know you mean well with your advice, but I’m asking you to please not worry about it. Let me work this one out — as drained as I am, I still have enough strength to make it through this.

I have so much respect for religion, you know that, and I get that for a lot of withered branches and parched people it’s the water of life. Just — does it have to be that for everyone? When you look at the world, you see millions of people it hasn’t been that for, millions it won’t be that for, whether they’ve heard the Word or not, so why should it have to be that for me? Doesn’t Jesus say Himself that they will be with Him whom His Father has given unto Him? And like… what if I wasn’t given unto Him? what if the Father wants to keep me for Himself, the way my heart keeps telling me? — please don’t take that the wrong way; don’t read sarcasm into these sincere words; I’m laying my whole soul out in front of you; otherwise, I’m going to wish I hadn’t even gotten into it — like I generally don’t like throwing words around about all this stuff I know so little about (though, arguably, neither does anyone). Isn’t it just the human condition to suffer what you’re allotted and drink your cup when it comes to you? — And if God Almighty found the cup too bitter on his human lips, why should I act tough and pretend it tastes sweet to me? And why should I be embarrassed, in those terrifying moments when my whole existence teeters between being and un-being, when the past flashes like lightning over the dark chasms of the future and everything around me crumbles and the world collapses with me? Aren’t those the moments, when you’re forced into total withdrawal, out of touch with yourself, crashing too hard to save, when you scream, with all your useless, desperate strength, “My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?” And should I be embarrassed to scream it, should I dread getting to that point, when even He couldn’t avoid it, He who crumples up the sky like tissue paper?

November 21

She can’t see, she can’t tell, that she’s brewing a poison that’ll take me down, and her… and I drain the tainted cup she hands me like a shot. The caring looks she always — always? — okay, not always, but still, sometimes gives me… the easy way she lets it slide when my feelings slip out… the sympathy with what I’m going through that’s written all over her face… are those supposed to help?

Yesterday, as I was leaving, she hugged me and said, “Goodnight, Werther dear!” — Werther dear! It was the first time she’d called me “dear”, and it shot through me like lightning. I’ve replayed it in my mind a hundred times, and yesterday, when I was trying to fall asleep and my brain wouldn’t shut up about everything, I suddenly said: “good night, Werther dear!” and just had to laugh at myself after that…

November 22

She’s solid gold, but she’ll never be mine. She’s like crystal, but it’s clear we’ll never be together. Yay, misery puns. If I let myself go, I could fill pages with this shit.

November 24

She can tell what I’m going through. Today the way she looked at me shot right through my heart. She was alone when I came in; I didn’t say anything, and she looked at me. And what I saw this time wasn’t the gorgeous loveliness, or the glow of that amazing personality, that all disappeared as I was looking at her. Much deeper than that, what hit me was her look, calling out to me with the deepest compassion, the sweetest sympathy… Why couldn’t I throw myself at her feet?? Why couldn’t I wrap myself around her neck and answer her with a thousand kisses?! She made a break for the piano and breathed sweet, soft harmonies along with what she was playing. I’ve never been so turned on by her lips; it was like she was opening them hungrily to suck down the sweet notes swelling out of the instrument, and the only sound was their secret echo from her perfect mouth — ahh, as if I could describe it to you! — I couldn’t take it any more, I bowed my head and swore: I’ll never dare to press a kiss on you, lips! ‘round which the spirits of heaven hover — And, but — I want — Gah! See, it’s like a brick wall in front of me — this ecstasy — and then, gone, gone, to expiate the sin — Sin??

November 26

Sometimes I say to myself: at least it’s just you; be glad for everyone else — no one’s ever been tortured like this. Then I read some poet from two thousand years ago, and it’s like I was looking into my own heart. I struggle with so much! People have already been this miserable before me?