Not Just Another Alien Abduction

Let's face it, if you come to this blog, you probably want the dirt, drama, and details. So I won't sugar coat it (much, rest assured that this entry has been sanitized for your protection). This is a brief of the saga of the buttocks, the probing concern that there may be something going on in or around the anus that I can't quite put a finger on. Rash worries of cancer float in the distance as more pressing concerns of painful evacuation and bleeding increase at an alarming rate and the medical profession, at least a half dozen specialists and several PAs, all tell me it's nothing to worry about. .

Someone asked me to explain just what it is that the doctors are telling me not to worry about.

This entry is that response, mostly.

(anybody else hearing the dramatic music from Law & Order or a much older legal drama that shall remain nameless at this time?... how many stories are in the naked city?)

Aherm.

In any case, surely this entry belongs in the the body blog, as noted below with a link to the specific start of this particular body saga, and surely some sort of fashion of it will appear there, just for the record, but here and now I bring it to you here in this blog because this used to be a daily and the babbler is craving release and attention (and ego is starving for praise and adoration, though this entry probably isn't the way to satisfy ego's insatiable hungers... luckily there is food to shut him up) and ultimately, it is my duty to delight and offend, as a blogger and a friend, depending on perspective.

So let's get to the nitty gritty of this probe now.

There is growing concern in the sub-net of my brain about the apparent deterioration (or lack of healing) of the skin just inside and outside of the anus. Several GI Specialists tell me there's nothing concerning in the rectum when they look in there. A colonoscopy from Feb 2017 came up clean. A Hematologist and Nephroogist have given me clean bills of health (heavy on the bills). The last visual exam was last month by a PA at a highly respected GI Center and she said to use Desitin, not to wash it off, and made it seem as though it was a bad case of diaper rash.

What I know and tell them is that it has become progressively worse over at least the last 3 years. That it started as what I thought was an occasional hemorrhoid flare up maybe ten years ago that would occur a couple of times a year after hard bowel movement. That was treated with over the counter suppositories and the flare up would go away in a day or two.

This increased over the course of a decade and moreso in the last three years. Over the last year, the skin has not been healing most of the time. Anal fissures developed and they are not healing either. I am following all the medical advice, rinsing after bowel movements, keeping clean and dry, not rubbing or wiping with anything even remotely abrasive (wet wipes only, just lightly before the rinse, mostly because of the texture).

The texture of the feces has made this much more challenging since this recent C;Diff incident which started in late February. That symptom is not completely gone, though I have not gotten definitive results as to whether the soft pasty smelly stools are due to C.Diff or due to the intestinal bacterial damage that takes time to rebuild.

In any case, what I experience is increasing pain and bleeding over several years to the point where now, almost every bowel movement produces the pain and bleeding and that is not something I want to be told is nothing to worry about.

I'm gonna print this and take it to my next doctor's appointments. Thanks for asking and helping me explain it once again. Maybe this explains it better than I have explained it before (I may have a failure to communicate going on with more than a few doctors and PAs. :)

I only know what I say, not what others hear.

As I mentioned (now and again) I try to explain my experience in this body now and then (again?) in the body blog. Definitely not as often as would be best for clarity and continuity of understanding, but that blog is an attempt to clarify and record the experience in this body for myself and anyone who cares (or who should want to understand, like medical professionals).

Compartmentalization is necessary for the multitasking life of an ADD genius.

Speaking of writing (oh, here's a casual segue to help you forget the last line), I want to share something else off the topic of personal experiences, but from the perspective of the writer I thought I wanted to be once upon a time. If you have time, I'd like an opinion. If you want your opinion to mater ore, introduce yourself. Anonymous opinions are welcome, but they are like the wind and their meaning and value can be gone in a moment. Can be, not definitely.

If I enjoyed (or engaged in) anal sex, I'd associate that with this edical concern, but I don't put anything into my anus or rectum bigger than a suppository and seldom insert those. My thumb is always up to the stars, but that's hoping I'll get a ride to a saner planet and not an invtation for an anal probe. In case this is one of those alien abductions I've heard about it is not just another alien abduction, it is mine and that makes it a high priority.

Intelligent beings would communicate, so it could be some ape-level aliens developed interstellar travel but did not develop the intelligence or maturity to do any more than fling feces and poke around for more feces from beings on other planets. Maybe that's what the universe is about. After all, almost every species produces some sort of excrement and we humans probably produce more feces than anything else in our lives. Could be the aliens are stopping off to pick u more fuel.

There may be an exception now and then, but everybody poops, sometimes.

Ok, back to my particular serious medical concern, I hope I explained well enough for you to understand. Feel free to ask probative questions if there are gaps in the knowledge I shared. Surely my occasionally over-indulgent diet does't help, but there is a serious concern in this otherwise irreverent entry that I would like Mulder and Scully to investigate immediately.

The truth is out there.

Narf :)

What IS The Word?

As opposed to what is the word, I suppose. Oh, but is this the third? Yes, starting again, the title-first line connections should have been...

what is the word?
is this the third?
what have you heard?
the third is the word!
don't be absurd!
the third must be heard!
what is the word?

A brief visitation by the beatnick version of Dr. Seuss and the bluesman, baby, that's it. Brace yourself, Martha, this is gonna be another bumpy ride. But did you see what happened in the blogworld of the written gardens recently? It was kinda nostalgic and lead to catharsis (or pretharsis or something like that), really it did. I even remembered dreaming of love. I real live actual dream. The first kiss all over again. If only Americans didn't get so freaking obese, alas, but not in the dream, oh, you should have see it.

The downbeat bounced so hard I was flying again. Actually, I went out for a brief, but actual run. Slow-step jogging, of course, and not far, but sneakers went on the feet (really open foot-hurting weak walled dangerous sneakers, but still) and the feet, they got to moving again. This may be the first day of the rest of my life (famous last words if I die tomorrow... hmmmm, that's the second time I wrote something about dying tomorrow... luckily it's after midnight so I have a lot of hours to retract, redact, and be alive to be exact). Pity da fool who don't understand that.

What's that about the third?

Now see here, if you click on the links and then, when you get to your destination, click on the blog entry prior to the one linked, you just might get a whiff of what we were smoking this month. A hundred entries in the brief blog and this one will be lucky to reach a dozen, for shame, sir babbler, we hearby de-knight you, earl of wishywashiness. What? You expect me to make it easy on myself? I wasn't born yesterday, you know.

This was a month of profound revelation. Too bad none of it ended up here, or anywhere, but eslewhere, a whole lot of revelation elsewhere, to be sure. Don't give up, she said. And I never did. But she never returned, no she never returned, and the poor kid never learned. He went right on waiting for the girl to come, but the girl she never returned. Hey me, me with the blurry eyes. Awake too long, long into the night, awake too long, something isn't right, the brain knows it does better when itgets eight hours sleep but there is something deeper calling, like promises I just must keep, just must, just must, just must keep just like promises I made that come back in my sleep so I stay awake too long riding promises I just must keep.

The life is mostly desk work lately, the details are the same. I do so much at work these days, I don't want to think about it when I get ak here. I just seem to watch TV and play a silly game (Level 212 on Toon Blast, thank you very much) and eat myself to death (there's that death thing again) as blow up bloated like a belly balloon. The anal fissures remain a pain in the ass. The skin is showing more signs of age. Still no dermatologist and no ass doctor gives a dam, but somehow I am still playing ball though two of my teams folded leave just Sunday and Monday and Sunday league ends in two weeks which really sucks but I have two tournaments out of town lined up and maybe the world series in the fall. Still no primary, so damn picky but the good ones are not seeing new patients as I hear yet again today from two ore first choice doctors (my first choice). The blood pressure meds ran out so I am skating on thin ice rolling the dice with stroke and heart attack and I wonder if anyone will care after that fact. I have a hematologist appointment next week and I must get labs done tomorrow and the labs I did two last week have not come back yet to tell me if C.Diff is gone (I feel it's not) but still the most time is spent at my desk lately and the least time is spent asleep.

Who still dances with the devil in the pale moon light?

The life has it's challenges, but I am not complaining about anything except the loneliness (it's such a sad affair) eve though my dreams woke up to keep me company last night and maybe that is why I am still semi-sort of wired tonight in spite of sleep being the most important thing right now, I write to put myself out here with hpe someone will read and care and end my loneliness somehow... still the same old story, aye?

So the details are boring me to death (oh not again) and yet there are more than a dozen pen pals waiting for a response but I do not organize my time or the papers piled six inches high, The X-Files marathon continues between all the other shows I watch these days. I should update the background TV blog, no doubt.

I'd list them all but I have to pee.

This certainly doesn't compare with the last few or five or more entries, but then, perhaps it is here to help the previous entries shine. I have neglected the dirt, drama, and details mostly because I am tired of writing about the pain in the ass and ever so depressing people in my immediate daily life. Obesity and negativity and selfishness and lack of awareness and filth and disease and control freak and obsessive compulsive depressive so much unappealing unhealthy immature self-destructive wasting away lives. Humanity, why?

But did you see what happened?

I have a new keyring, bt the same old wallet. I have new keys, but the same old money. The savings, by the way, has been stagnant now for at least nine months. Fool I am eating out way too much, spending money on others and softball (no fool for softball), but anything to get out of this space and not eat here and no be alone and so the moving on plan has stalled due to lack of roommate appearance in spite of spending hundreds on the roommate website. Are we all as pathetic as it seems?

Living like a street refugee for more than two years now...

Food is my only comfort

Still, it turns me on...

Narf :)

The Never Ending Trilogy

Waking early enough to have time for myself would be a special treat for me. To start the day, my day, with some moments all for me seems so logical and yet, it so rarely happens in recent years. A habit of a lifetime, sleeping in until the last possible moment and then rushing out to whatever obligation I signed up for. School, work, whatever... life.

Even the most important thing can seem trivial when it is lost in the madness of the crowd, the rush for the brass ring, the confusing delusions we create in the illusion of life often forgotten as we wonder why we are even here.

I will not go quietly into the night, in case it matters. I can only hope it matters to someone, somewhere, sometime. Life, or something like that. All one can do is continue believe there's a place for us, if us ever happens to me.

The original trilogy may have been long buried (may have been lost?... oh dear, oh my) in boxes left in the care of the people who were supposed to care most but reinforced the lessons of betrayal and abandonment. Caring is such a relative concept in that what one person cares about is often meaningless to another and yet, does meaninglessness mean not caring or simply not knowing? We can debate the concept of awareness or awakening as we wander through our daily life, but whether the answer is blowing in the wind or simply out of reach is as relative as any truth as it is dependent on knowledge and for all intensive purposes, knowledge may never be completely complete (perish the thought).

When looking back toward the beginning when there may have been nothingness, it is understandable that loneliness could very well have dominated the experience of any being aware of anything, but we can casually accept the reality of what is as long as we accept that moments pass and one reality of one moment may be very different from the reality of another.

Through it all I remain ever diligently steadfast in my quest for whatever it is I am here for.

Mysteries, perhaps.

What might be found in the telling of secrets can only be determined by the teller and the other who dare to share it all.

The first is seldom ever understood.

Narf :)

The Last Three

So often creativity comes in spurts and even more often, spurts of three. Even when there is not much creative value, when there are three, the third almost always says something more, reaches deeper, defines, clarifies, and exposes more, in case it matters. I can only hope it matters to someone, somewhere, sometime. There's a place for us, if us ever happens to me.

Watching the X-Files, I imagine someone caring about me the way Scully cares about Mulder. TV fiction, certainly, but the emotion is the same whether it is portrayed by actors or experienced in real life. Loyalty, caring, trust, unconditional love. it is caring that does not need to be consummated sexually, it is caring that reaches beyond this physical life into the unknown infinite eternity. I know this experience because it is what I give, what I feel, and my experience in this life. All I've ever wanted is to find someone else who can and wants to share such an experience with me in this life.

I refuse to believe I am asking for too much. I can do it, so it is possible.

Scully: Did you find what you were looking for?

Mulder: No. But I found something I thought I had lost. Faith to keep looking.

It is not as if I find lines in TV shows or movies or print or anywhere that speaks to my core every day, but words can and do express virtually anything and the words in the End Game episode of The X-Files do just that. The Quixotic dream. I suppose we can associate most religious people with a similar dream. Believing something exists even when there is no empirical evidence. Mulder believes in aliens. I believe in love. Religious people believe in gods.

Could be revisiting The X-Files may rekindle the dream in me. Perhaps I should watch some other Random Harvest, Man of La Mancha, Tale of Two Cities, Les Miserables, Sleepless In Seattle, Jesus Christ Superstar, even. So many others. You've Got Mail,

So I find a POF (plenty of fish) email in my email and visit the site and expose myself (or something like that). yu can visit me there and see my profile and psychogical test results by looking up ricfish. Yes, I am ricfish on plenty of fish. So creative, aye? Here is my needs list according to their assessments.

Mulder, like so many TV heroes, can be so very stupid sometimes. Humans are naturally self-defeating, at least at the present stage of development, but TV heroes are especially self-defeating. It is necessary to extend the story. If stupidity was not written in, stories would not extend for a full hour, no less longer. Even though his room number is 42, he does not have all the answers. Even more, he makes stupid decisions that extend the story line for many episodes.

There was so much more . . .



Out there . . .

Narf :)

I'll Just Slip This In Here (Again)

Watching the original X-Files, I realize how Scully was treated and how the second class citizenship of women was so accepted in popular fiction even twenty years after the woman's liberation movement kick started again. The antique cell phones and other electronics seriously hamper the longevity of media produced in the last thirty years.

Because this was just too raw, perhaps?

Meanwhile, if you are amused by the title, that could be for several very different reasons and we can nonchalantly glance up at the ceiling casually whistling an aimless tune until another subject comes along (oh, like the X-Files?) to catch our attention.

Squirrel?

Yes, so the previous entry was not at all the reason this was slipped in here because it was anything but raw vulnerability and should not in any way attract any attention or embracement. Embarrassment? Who me? Never give up, never surrender. The fox has seen the hens, repeat, the fox has seen the hens. Any old lifeline will do in a pinch. The old pinch, the young fondle, the rest of us fumble. Did I mention C.Diff is likely still around?

Yes, I'll reach for anything to distract from the lonelies and if you've been here long enough, you'll know that's no understatement. I will not patronize Starbucks or BP. No distraction is off limits, from politics to pedophilia. Feel free to jump in with any assistance you'd like to provide. Did I mention I have a sunburn under my right eye? I must remember sun block tomorrow at the fields. Feel free to call to remind my at 407-325-1482.

I have no idea why.

I already get a ridiculous number of telephone solicitations in spite of reporting every number to the government on their website for such annoying call reports, but the spammers have both my personal and work number and they call often. The latest are the IRS lawyer calls. Someone needs to invent a button that can be pressed to send an electric shock to the person or machine calling. Aversion therapy, you know?

Have you no shame?

Well, if so, send your nude photos to PO Box 162843, Altamonte Springs, FL 32716 for a chance to win internet fame and fortune, at least. . Fat people need not apply. Surely guilt and shame will follow me for the rest of my days. Wait, next I'll include a link to a kickstarter page. There's always the paypal link if you've got extra money you don't need (as if). I sure need it, haven't you read about the cesspool I live in? You can save a life tonight.

Did I mentioned I cleaned the room?

Yes, clean sheets too, I mean, in case you were coming over for some bedtime snacks or something. Bring chocolate, I'm out of chocolate. Thought there is almost always syrup. One refrigerated and one room temperature. Yes, I aim to please. Sex is not violence, just so you know. At least not in my madhouse.

Would you like to swing on a star?

This blog is obviously suffering from neglect. The life dirt, drama, and details are boring me and redundancy is not as amusing to me lately as it once was. Perhaps the diseases are taking their toll. Apathy protects me from feeling sad because nobody cares. Apathy leads to silence. Silence is deadly to a babbler, so neglect leads to suffering or some sort of anal probing. I so wish the aliens would come back for me, I am fresh out of ointment.

So where've you been?

Narf :)

What lotion?

All By Myself

Don't wanna be.

This body's getting older
this life is passing by
but hope sits on my shoulder
and magic in my eyes
the dreams of love of my youth
still fill to burst my heart
no wonder all this loneliness
is tearing me apart

I don't want to be alone anymore
where is my partner, she is the cure
for all that is missing and insecure
she is what I am living for

I enjoy life
I love myself
I live in love
up on my shelf
I am at peace
whole on my own
but I am still more
when I am not alone

I don't want to be alone anymore
I want a partner, she is the cure
for all that is empty and insecure
she is what I am living for
together we are both more

whole on our own with a solid core
together we are both more

I've wondered, from time to time when the site pops up in a google search, which isn't very often, whether the person who first chose the domain name for the site was an egocentric Sheldon Cooper type or a narcissist of a different ilk, and further wondering leads me to consider whether the person who chose the domain name was smart enough to use it as it might have been used, with genius, but be that as it may or may not be, I found this there and it was completely not what I was looking for. So much for genius.

What I was looking for was something more like this.

Expanded Nothingness

Yes, this is yesterday's entry expanded with more links and explanatory babble and random connections that may make more or less sense than yesterday's entry. This is the second revision and ther will be more. If you are excited about this, we should talk :)

Let's see what we can make of this, this being more than a hundred entries saved for some reason, reasons may show, or perhaps the random, but I want to believe in love (oh you may not be able to imagine how much I want to believe in love, in goodness, in kindness, in the human heart and mind and ultimate survival... so much so, I'd die a million deaths if that would make it true) so I do. The second half of that dream is more personal, a dream that someone will one day want to actually know me and help me express who I am because as well as I know myself, we do not fully define ourselves and become real outside of our own heads until we actually share urselves in this physical world. Understand or not, whatever I may be to you or become in my quest, I continue questing as only Don Quixote may ultimately understand..

Did you grasp the significance of that last statement?

Did I have to ask?

Sometimes, perhaps often of late, I may be only partially here and partially in an illusion no one can perceive (perhaps two illusions, one collective and one mine), but through all the pain and breakage (and there is a great deal of breakage in me), the music keeps me stable at my core (do you undertsnad that music is a language all it's own?... the universe understands... I have more proof of that than anyone could ever remember, but when I need to, the universe reminds me in such simple ways... the end of an episode of NCIS: New Orleans called Empathy, even lol that just happened to happen at the precise moment I was writing this (on the third or fourth edit, no less). Music reminds me of who I am and I am still the same, whatever that is (as if I didn't know... you want to know?)... still pushing through every challenge and still here, writing and writing and writing more... writing for a friend (for the world and for the one and the dreams don't die even when there is no one to share them... even if no one ever hears.

I dream and dreams drip (ooze, squirt, radiate, pulsate, sometimes explode) out from my core, from my heart, from whatever I am (did we figure that out yet?... are you paying attention?... how many fingers am I holding up?) in little bits and bytes and even exposed as completely as one can be, still I am alone and there is no wonder why I wonder (and I wonder, still I wonder, who... who... who... not an owl, maybe a song, if you understand then sing along) who can understand how broken a person can be and still solid at the core, an ethereal core that is indestructable because it cannot be touched... it can only be felt.

Some of the links lead to entries that are not complete, adding to the mystery and fun this entry might be if you follow along and spend enough time getting to know me. Maybe I am not the only one who understands and is still hoping for more than a memory, more than the a fantasy, more than anything ever before. Sometimes all I want to do is sleep (in heavenly peace and dreams that never really die).

Sometimes all I have is a fantasy, but the fact is I wonder what matters, if it matters, does it matter to you? Every now and then I leap back in time to moments deeper than memories, moments that remain alive against all odds and beyond dreams in a place where we can be mindful of how temporary this life really is, no matter how we wake up and introduce ourselves and no matter what we believe or how we perceive the experiences we experience in this life. So many random links in this paragraph, who could possible put the pieces together.

Memories... sung by a cat, no less. Memories can bring up together or divide us. I prefer the unity. Whether it is coincidence or magic the truth is sometimes found in the processing of information even when it hurts (and life hurt, in case you didn't know or want to believe it doesn't). Maybe no one will ever know me but I will keep reaching out to anyone who might listen in spite of the madness screaming from the rooftops of our highest pedestals we might still remember something worthwhile.

This entry could be one of the most revealing entries of the recent memory or perhaps, whatever, we need to heed warnings of lunatics and missing persons. Wouldn't it be ironic if the links actually matched up with the meaning in the words in this entry? You thought perhaps there was some deeper plan to the method of my madness? Could be, but then, could not be too. Shakespeare asked something about it once and life had meaning beyond anything and even more if we care. I care so much sometimes no one can see it because I don't show it. Any roommates out there?

When you care so completely that you don't need to show it, it doesn't show sometimes. Especially not in a world where most people turn off their senses. Do you close your eyes? Are you in there?

Would you care if you knew? It is a question, a bottom line question asked constantly in my head on so many levels by so many parts of me to just about every human being on this planet. Would you care if you knew... me? Who am I? Really, I've asked those closest to me and anyone who might care to answer and I so rarely have received an answer. People don't care enough to think about it enough to provide a meaningful answer. There are times when words haunt me and even when I let go of the lies people tell, I still want to believe in the heart's intention... especially 4AM when I am wide awake at 4Am.

You've got to make your own decisions.

Even if everyone is afraid of me, I will keep hoping there is one person in this world who is not. Just one person who might understand the insatiable desire to share everything no matter how seemingly meaningless because if just one person understands me from any perspective even as I recreate myself in words, redefine myself, introduce myself as if who I am really matters to at least one other person besides me. I keep hoping.

Sleep was feeling so attractive just a about eight hours ago, but here I am pushing the limits and remembering, however haphazardly, however randomly, the things that made me who I am. The abandonment issues. Life has not always been sugar and spice and everything nice, after all. So again and again I will ask is anybody out there? And again and again I will push the limits and wonder and ask and ain't to proud to beg if you would just let yourself love unconditionally you might realize you don't have to lie or delude yourself alone.

Once again (right here, right now) I look at the lack of entries here in this blog and and wonder did anybody notice when I disappear? Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah





Who cares?




Right?




Narf :)

Maybe It's A Gift

Let's see what we can make of this, this being more than a hundred entries saved for some reason, reasons may show, or perhaps the random, but I want to believe in love so I do, whatever I may be to you or become in my quest. I may be only partially here, but through all the pain and breakage, I am still the same, whatever that is... still pushing through every challenge and still here, writing for a friend... even if no one ever hears.

I drip out from my core, from my heart, from whatever I am bits in time and exposed as completely as one can be, still I am alone and there is no wonder why I wonder (still I wonder who... who) can understand how broken a person can be and solid at the core and maybe I am not the only one still hoping for more than a memory, more than the a fantasy, more than anything ever before. Sometimes all I want to do is sleep.

Sometimes all I have is a dream, but the fact is I wonder what matters, if it matters, does it matter to you? Every now and then I leap back in time to moments deeper than memories, moments that remain alive against all odds and beyond dreams in a place where we can be mindful of how temporary this life really is, no matter how we wake up and no matter what we believe or how we perceive the experiences we experience in this life.

Whether it is coincidence or magic the truth is cometimes found in the processing of information even when it hurts (and life hurst, in case you didn't know or want to believe it doesn't). Maybe no one will ever know me but I will keep reaching out to anyone who might listen in spite of the madness screaming from the rooftops of our highest pedestals we might still remember something worthwhile.

This entry could be one of the most revealing entries of the recent memory or perhaps, whatever, we need to heed warnings of lunatics and missing persons. Wouldn't it be ironic if the links actually matched up with the meaning in the words in this entry? You thought perhaps there was some deeper plan to the method of my madness? Could be, but then, could not be too. Shakespeare asked something about it once and life had meaning beyond anything and even more if we care. I care so much sometimes no one can see it because I don't show it. When you care so completely that you don't need to show it, it doesn't show sometimes. Especially not in a world where most people turn off their senses.

Do you close your eyes? Are you in there?

Would you care if you knew? It is a question, a bottom line question asked constantly in my head on so many levels by so many parts of me to just about every human being on this planet. Would you care if you knew... me? Who am I? Really, I've asked those closest to me and anyone who might care to answer and I so rarely have received an answer. People don't care enough to think about it enough to provide a meaningful answer. There are times when words haunt me and even when I let go of the lies people tell, I still want to believe in the heart's intention... especially 4AM when I am wide awake at 4Am.

You've got to make your own decisions.

Even if everyone is afraid of me, I will keep hoping there is one person in this world who is not. Just one person who might understand the insatiable desire to share everything no matter how seemingly meaningless because if just one person understands me from any perspective even as I recreate myself in words, redefine myself, introduce myself as if who I am really matters to at least one other person besides me. I keep hoping.

Sleep was feeling so attractive just a about eight hours ago, but here I am pushing the limits and remembering, however haphazardly, however randomly, the things that made me who I am. The abandonment issues. Life has not always been sugar and spice and everything nice, after all. So again and again I will ask is anybody out there? And again and again I will push the limits and wonder and ask and ain't to proud to beg if you would just let yourself love unconditionally you might realize you don't have to lie or delude yourself alone.

Once again (right here, right now) I look at the lack of entries here in this blog and and wonder did anybody notice when I disappear? 3Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah





Who cares?




Right?




Narf :)

I'll Just Leave This Here

I just want somebody to love me
just the way I am
I don't want to change to satisfy
someone else's plan

I just want somebody to love me
is that too much to ask?
apparently so, cuz finding someone
seems an impossible task

I give and I give and I give some more
I give all I've got till it hurts
I'm used and abused and discarded (oh my)
but I just keep buying new shirts

I've been on the street, left out in the cold
and I live like a refugee
taking care of everyone else
wondering when someone will see
who I am, what I'm worth
and fall in love with me
I'll take care of you
will you take care of me?

I just want somebody to love me
just the way I am
I don't want to lie to anyone
for I am an honest man

I just want somebody to love me
is that an impossible dream?
apparently so, cuz finding someone
has not happened it seems

I see too much
I feel too much
I give too much
I want too much
I think too much
I play too much
I share too much
I care too much

I just want somebody to love me
just the way I am
I don't want to change to satisfy
someone else's plan

I just want somebody to love me
is that too much to ask?
apparently so, cuz finding someone
seems an impossible task

I just want somebody to love me
just the way I am
I don't want to lie to anyone
I am an honest man
just doing the best I can
too love and be loved is my only plan

I just want somebody to love me
just the way I am
So how are you? :)

I wonder if this rhyming expression is the me you know or is it my delusion?

Only you know and I really would like to know your perspective...

persistent, aren't I? :P

Narf :)