Sweet Honey Love

Sweet Honey Love,


The day did find me smiling. And then it left me in the dark. I’m so fucked up. No rest for the weary. But this is what I wanted, right? Money, challenges, deadlines and everything else that can keep me busy. I want this. I haven’t been able to truly hack it yet, but it’s coming to me. I just keep going. Life is what I make of it. I find myself losing myself, failing classes, not getting my shit together, rushing, packing it in, working hard and getting nowhere. It’s tough. And yet I like it. It keeps me going in all directions at once. I don’t see any ONE goal anymore. My job right now is to stay afloat and make it work sometimes if not all the time.

I’ve become more attached to my friends at school. They have no idea how much I’m in love with them and how much I rely on them to keep me going. My only links to the world and all that is cool in it. They are my lifelines. The days out of the week when I’m tortured at school, I’m rewarded with friendship. The hugs and kisses and undeserved love are enough to help me make it through. At work, the love of money gets me through.

I don’t have a set goal anymore. Just keep working and keep going to school. Help out Mama, and keep helping myself. Live. Not live well, or live life, but just live. Live from day to day expecting no more or less than what yesterday held. Not caring or wondering for the future. The future is far enough away that I can ignore it for now.

My life is like a boring TV show where the pretty girl dances in her room at night and works during the day with the same drudgery as the common ant. Those shows get canceled. Nobody ever watches them. They fade into obscurity. That’s what I’m doing. Fading, faster and faster into obscurity, every damn day. Without care, I take notice and then brush it aside with care and walk on to that bus and wonder, what the fuck is going on.

I live the rat race of time, forever repeating my steps and reliving past days. Day after day, same shit. Day in and day out, same old story. It never changes, never gives. And yet the common man will find my tale interesting. Yes, yes, he’ll listen to me with the outmost care and nod and respond and then ask me out as if I had said nothing at all about lack of time, loss of sleep and love of money.

Men. Dogs. All of them. Hounding me at every turn. Taking advantage of my time and patience. I haven’t either for them anymore. They disgust more than scare me but their attacks are enough to send this cat straight up a tree forever. I may never come off this trip. It doesn’t seem possible for what I want to do anyway. I want to work and make money. That leaves time for a shower and a meal, some TV and then bed. No time for men. No time. I shall be content to read my dirty novel and never long for the touch of a cruel finger upon my person. Damn them all to hell. The good the bad, the straight and the gay, the sexy and the ugly, the living and the dead. Damn them all.

And you, my lovely . . . what of you? You are a man so damn you. Damn you to the hands of another’s of your kind to hold and caress, to love and hold dear. Damn you to their games and their scheming, their lies and deceit. Damn you to their giving and misgiving. Damn you! DAMN YOU! For you have damned me, and I am lost in a sea of love that can neither make me wet nor penetrate me. I am surrounded and alone. I have the love and memories, lost in knowing the truth, the very truth that will set me free, has ruined for all other love. Has left me barren and unknowing. Damn that. Damn it all. Damn you, my angel, my dream. My only dream that I could hold. The only dream I could touch. But just a dream. Not real, not everlasting.

Damn me for I am so damned. Loving the world that curses me. Burning the candle on both ends to keep from thinking of what could be, what may have been. Closing every door to love. Never looking for a new one. I cannot be hurt again. I will not hurt anyone. I cannot. I must keep moving and being and working and talking and laughing and laughing and laughing til I break down and cry and drink and moan and sleep black, dreamless sleep.

I love you. My heart only beats for the love of you. As sad and timeless as it is, it will be this way until the sun rises and sends the light that shows me how to love myself. I don’t love myself completely. You completed me. Now I’m to love what is left of me and all of you.

Don’t let this sadden or worry you. It mustn’t be taken that way. I will always smile when I see you. You . . . I love you.

-- Author unknown


I found this letter in a windows document file that was left on a public computer in my college's computer lab back in 2001, my first months attending. I was bored, so I read it. Seems a bit contrived, but everybody's a starving artist at my college.

I saw who left it, never spoke to her or anything. Cute bird, quite the looker, but she seemed to be closed off due to guys gawking at her for having big breast.

Goes to show that "the beautiful people" don't have it so well, either.

Enjoy your voyeuristic-self.

[Captain Beefheart]

Isn't it sad when someone you love instantly slips though the cracks.

You see her in dreams and know that whatever it takes you will be together. Even if it means you feed her cat poison to make it sick and then come to her house dressed as a veterinarian or call her house over and over and not say anything just so she can get into the rhythm of your breathing. Or start breaking into her home while she's at work and incrementally moving your clothes into her dresser drawers so she knows what you smell like and that you have sexy underpants and not sexy underpants.

This is romance type s!hit. and I feel you man.