The Flight of the Rocketman

All I know / Is everything is not as it's sold / But the more I grow the less I know / And I have lived so many lives / Though I'm not old / And the more I see, the less I grow / The fewer the seeds the more I sow / Then I see you standing there / Wanting more from me / And all I can do is try / Then I see you standing there / Wanting more from me / And all I can do is try - "Try" performed and written by Nelly Furtado

It's a beautiful album, Nelly Furtado's Folklore. Especially Try. Of course, I relate to the song very well. I feel it circulating through my veins whenever I play it. I sing along despite the fact that I still don't have my voice. It hasn't completely returned since last Saturday. All I can do is try, really. That's all I can do.

I told myself that I should start taking myself more seriously, taking what I promised for myself - to ask only for the things which I can have. But apparently, deep down inside, I still want to have the things that do not want me. I still want things that, maybe I do not deserve. Or maybe, I still want things that I am not meant to have. Of all the seven deadly sins, Envy is my greatest companion. As a good friend told me, "The greatest cause of sorrow is comparison." How brilliant. How simple, yet brilliant. And I'm so competative. I'm so needy. I'm so envious.

There was this Book of Birthdays that is supposed to be able to tell your personality just on the day of your birth. On mine, it says "Day of Relativity." Apparently, people born on the same day that I was discovers him/herself in his/her relationships with other people. People born on the "day of relativity" figures out the world based on his/her own opinions and then compares it with the opinions, views and perspectives of others. That is why I am such a social person. I fit that description to a tee. I always ask questions, even if they are inappropriate. I always want to know how people feel or think about any particular thing. Then I compare it with my own and find out what are the differences, what are the similarities. I do not trust my own personal views on any one thing. It must always be seconded by another opinion. I can never figure things out alone.

But for some strange reason, I give pretty good advice to people who need it. Well, at least that I what I've been told. Well, people say I'm a good listener. And I know how to make them feel better about their problems, about themselves. It's just that I can see all the sides of any one arguement. I think about other people and not just myself or the person I'm talking to. Well, I usually do. I think I do.

But for someone who is so suspicious of his own opinions and perspectives, I seem like the kind of person who is ready to dispense them to any willing audience. How strange... I now feel more schizophrenic than ever.

I've been so busy lately. I've been so busy enjoying my own drama. Yes, something dramatic has stepped in once more in my life and I have to deal with it. I wish I could just blurt it all out here but I can't. There are other people involved and I must respect them as well. Let's just say, once again in my life, I've given up something I so wanted for someone else's happiness. But then again, it's not as if that thing I wanted really belonged to me. I don't think I deserve that thing. If it could, it didn't want me.

They never do, the things I want.

And that's all that's been in my head for the past few days. I've been throwing people off and trying desperately to distract myself from it and the more I try, the more it raises its ugly head. It faces me and I have no defense from its sharp teeth that tends to tear me into pieces day in and day out. The scars I carry are few, the ones that can be seen anyway. But deep inside, I'm bleeding constantly. I leave a trail of blood whereever I go, it seeps at such minute amounts from my pores and I feel a little crimson. I'm bleeding. No one sees.

Lately, I've found great company with one of my good friends who knows about all my troubles. He's my cold hard slap of reality. My anchor, at the moment, and I truly, truly appreciate his intelligence, his honesty, his sincerity. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to detach myself from this world and just live by myself, totally for myself. I'm a door mat, quite the very opposite of my good friend. But I don't want to build walls around me. I'm scared. I might not be able to get out.

I'm sad. I've been sad for a while now. But I can't talk about it fully. I can only hint and suggest and insinuate. This world, after all is not mine. And my words can hurt and damage and break things. And some of these things I wish to have for myself, whole and complete.

I hardly recognize myself it's such a strange thing / To find another woman walking in my blue jeans / I've come so far and I've been so long away from home / I'm like a photograph whose image is still changing / The letter that I never sent to you explaining / All I want is a place for my heart to belong -- "Strange Thing" by Sophie B. Hawkins