done with memory lane? go back to inside.belen.net >>

Like everything, a journal is the reflection of a journey and its form morphs with time. This archive covers my blogging from 1999-2002.


The Blogger years. It started as I began travelling and wanted a more daily journal of my life to share with my friends.
oct sept aug july
june may april march
feb jan    
dec nov oct sept
aug july june may
april      

The leap from milky white pages to glowing white screen...the start of virtual exhibitionism.
apr.17: irate
apr.08: expired
apr.07: home
apr.06: free
mar.26: bound
feb.18: inked
jan.02: lost
jan.02: dream
sep.13: high
sep.02: wander
aug.30: touched
jul.24: glow
may.11: snap
feb.29: sex
jan.11: why
jan.01: the apocolypse
dec.06: mourning
nov.01: insanity
oct.13: caged
oct.13: surrender

baring a soul : december 1999

mourning: 12.6.99
"My head is in my hands but my heart is in your teeth."

i feel like i am standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming until my throat is raw, and someone has just been absently turning the volume down.

in the last two weeks, i have experienced events the likes of which most mortals only witness flickering across the dull glowing screen of soap operas or documented wittily in trendy memoirs.

and i made my choices. and i dealt with the consequences. i doled out the Joy ration, i doled out the Destruction ration. i made my rounds, i begged, i pleaded, i headed the Peace Negotiations.

and i know i made the decisions i had to.

but i now sit at the end of the scene, looking wearily at the next, and i am shaking with an influx of emotion that i cannot express accurately.

i understand his feelings of fear and apprehension. i understand his feelings of anger and the betrayal of trust.

but right now, i cannot even mediate for them. because all i can think is that in all of this, in trying to contain the mess i made, in trying to make everyone okay...

i have not had a single fucking moment to mourn for the precious things i have lost. to cry for the pain i have felt. to rejoice in the gifts i have been given.

i haven't had thirty fucking seconds to see how i am doing.

i want to sob from the depths of my soul for a love that i wanted more than anything, but in the end i had to let go. i want to wail for the pain i caused, wail harder for the pain handed to me, completely break for the pain i know is yet to come. i want the chance to take the part of me i have chosen not to nurture, kiss her on the forehead and put her and her not-yet-created memories into my box of treasures...to tell her that i am sorry, but i made the best choice for us i could. i am allowed to mourn for what i have lost. i deserve that.

then i want to sit immersed in the daydreams of hope and future. i want to open the doors and coax out the girl who gave up those dreams because they hurt too much. i want her to come play in the sunshine and laugh in the fields of daisies. i want the sunlight to not hurt her eyes. i want her to know that she can finally *stop* her mourning...that she is free.

and instead i sit in the dark. and i cannot cry. i cannot mourn. i am bound.

belen's don't break. they don't fucking have time.