Tell Me What You Don't Like About Yourself

Originally written June 9, 2006

Early on in these confessions the central theme, besides being chased by the gone but not forgotten leprechauns, was a responsibility to find redemption for what we have done. We began with a battle for the remnants of what I believed in. Our fight took us to where the ends of reality met the waking coma I tried to hide in. Because hitting bottom isn't a seminar, it isn't some weekend retreat. My confessions, whether obvious or painstakingly written only to have meaning for those that they were directed towards, they were meant to give that same release, resolved for all that I have done and all that I have failed to do.

Somewhere along the path redemption became vindication. Gone were the aspirations of finding what it would take to make things right once again. My confessions grew to be more chaotic, directed subtlety, then pointedly, at specific people that had been found lurking about on the inside.

Vindication gave way to the stories of here and there and back again. Like something out of an incomplete Dickens novel, every event and every person you encounter from day to day, to state to state, they are connected, and every great purpose has its initial incentive.

I can close my eyes and I can live in the memories of Kansas, of D.C., of London. I can open my eyes and allow myself to live in the once thought city where all roads would end. And then there is Hong Kong, where the ninjas are waiting for me to slip up just once. There is that possibility that I wind up on the streets of Hong Kong for five weeks without housing before classes begin. Living from hostel to hostel, starting my own ninja training, being hunted through the streets, dodging throwing stars. In some respects, you'd imagine this wouldn't be the life for me, that I find too much comfort in the future to risk it on something as ill conceived as this plan. But there is a part of all of you that know, somewhere, that if anyone could or would get themselves into and out of a situation like that, it would be me. I'm the best at what I do and what I do ain't pretty, sometimes we all need to fight our own demons.

Whatever may come from the battle of evermore, there is no compassion, and there is no vindication. The battle of evermore continues on, we fight on to keep up appearances, we fight on to keep away from the bottom, like a junkie looking for a fix we fight for that glow, the satisfaction that comes with justice herself.