Records from that time are so spotty, and they're spread out all over the place. It took a lot of work, and a lot of memory, to accurately piece together those events.

May 12, 2007. The happiest day of my life, up to that point. After I got home, I sat on my swing until the Sun rose, my face cramping so much from smiling that I nearly cried from the pain. Not that anyone would have noticed. I was already laughing from being so happy, and in the dark it's hard to tell the difference.

I've been happy since, certainly. There have even been times when I've been happier than I was on that Spring day, nearly two and a half years ago. But that day will always be special to me, because it was so pure.

So much has happened since then. It's so hard, sometimes, to maintain the proper perspective on things. But I try. I really do try. I think about that wonderful night, reliving as well as I can the joy and the relief and the hope. Remembering what it was like to feel all those things again, after all those months that they'd lain dormant.

I've said before that I died on October 9th, 2004. Well, on May 12, 2007, I finally lived again.

I need to remember that. I am still alive.

My schedule, such as it is, has blurred together. It's now as meaningless as it is fluid. Night and day are just words, abstractions, faint memories, and nothing more.

The dark of night and the light of day have formed gray, as they always do. Gray is okay. I'm used to gray. It's the brightness of the light and the mysteries of the dark that bother me. Frighten me.

Am I tired right now because I'm actually tired, or merely because I feel that I should be tired?

I could ask myself the same question regarding every feeling that I've had lately.

Well at least this time I remembered the dream that woke me up.

Silly kid thought he could fly, or maybe he just knew I'd catch him.

Either way, good thing I was there.

Okay, this is a really sad entry I wrote a few years ago. I must have been in a really weird mood to be able to write this.

okay, this was hard to write

I've mentioned before about how I like to go back and read my old entries. It's always interesting to see what's changed, and it's even more interesting to see what's the same. Plus, sometimes I find stuff that manages to remind me that I'm quite capable of being a pretty decent writer. When I want to be and/or when I've had enough to drink.

June of 2006 was a good writing-month for me. The following is one of my favorites from then. Except that the wall is now more of just a line in the sand.

"You're a fucking dumbass," I said.

"What are you bitching about now?" I asked.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, you stupid fuck, " I answered.

"Well, how about you pretend that I don't know, and you explain it to me."

"Okay fine." I paused for effect. "You had hope just now. Don't even fucking try to deny it. That person just walked in the door and you had hope that it would be her."

"Bullshit," I said.

"C'mon, I was right here," I said. "I know that you had hope."

"What if I did?" I asked defensively. "Besides, it was only for a second."

"I can't believe how stupid you are." I was getting frustrated. "How many times do you have to be hurt before you give up this bullshit?"

"It's not bullshit," I protested. "It's perfectly normal for me to miss a friend, and to hope to see that friend again."

"You forget who you're talking to," I said. "I'm the one person you cannot fool."

"I'm not trying to fool anyone. You're just being paranoid."

"Paranoid?" I was incredulous. "You think I'm paranoid, you dumb fuck?"

"That's exactly what I think," I said. "You forget that things have changed. I've managed to separate things in my head. I want to see my friend, that's all."

"Save that bullshit for your 'blog," I said. "Like I said, you cannot fool me."

"You suck," I responded. "You suck, and I don't have to listen to you if I don't want to."

"You are such a stubborn asshole," I said. "Fine, but let me ask you something."

"What?" I asked confidently.

"You say that you miss your friend, and that's all that you miss?" I asked.

"That's right," I responded.

"Well," I continued, "What about the potential for something else? What about the potential that you saw in the two of you as a couple? What about the potential that you saw in her as a person?"

"That's all in the past," I said uneasily. I was beginning to get an idea of what would come next.

"Oh, is it really?" I asked. "You don't miss that potential at all?"

"Um, well I guess I'll always miss that," I answered. "At some level at least."

"You try so hard to sound like you've got your shit together," I said.

"Hey," I protested. "I am a lot better than I was. Why are you being such a dick?"

"Because I'm sick of your bullshit," I answered. "That, plus I might be the only person on Earth that cares about you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," I pointed out. "I was in an actual good mood for once, and you had to go and ruin it."

"You idiot," I said. "You've actually managed to forget about it, haven't you?"

"Forget about what?" I asked.

"About The Wall," was all I needed to say.

I went numb for a precious second. "You asshole," I said as the pain came rushing back to me. "Why did you have to remind me? Why couldn't you just let me be content for a while?"

"Because contentedness is dangerous for you," I said. "You can't handle being content, and you always look for something more."

"And what's wrong with that?" I asked, though I knew what the answer would be.

"What's wrong with that, you dumb fuck, is that you always look for the same thing. Over and over and over and over. And you're never going to find it."

"Because of The Wall," I admitted.

"Right. Because of The Wall," I answered. "All of that potential that you saw - it's unreachable to you now. You've got to come to grips with that fact."

"You know," I countered. "I wasn't thinking about that stuff at all, before you butted in. I just missed my friend. You could have left me alone."

I sighed. I'd hoped that it wouldn't come to this. "Okay," I said. "I'll make you a deal. Let me ask you one more question, and if you answer it honestly and still want me to leave you alone, then I will."

"Great," I answered. "Ask your fucking question."

"Okay, here goes." This was going to be hard for me to ask, I knew that it would be exponentially tougher for him to answer. "Right now, you realize that all of that potential is something that you'll never see realized. Right now, you know it like you've never known it before. My question is this: Without that potential, with nothing except the opportunity for what you once had, and nothing more, ever, are you sure that you want to see her walk through that door?"

I knew what I was supposed to say. I sure as fuck knew what I wanted to say. But I decided, for some reason that escapes me now as I tell this story, I decided to answer the question honestly.

"If you put it like that," I responded, "then the answer is no. To simply go back to what there was would be impossible. It would hurt too much. I'd rather have nothing than try to go back to that while knowing that there would never be anything more."

"Thank you for your honesty," I said gently. "And now, as I promised, I'll leave you alone if that's your wish. You can hope and dream all you want, and I won't interrupt you again."

"That's okay," I said. "You can stay for a while if you want."

"Thank you," I answered. "Let's have a beer together, and let's miss her for a while."

"Sounds good," I accepted. "I'll try not to have any hope this time."

"I know you'll try," I said. "And if you slip up, I'll be right here for you. To smack you down once again."

I allowed myself a smile. "You're an asshole, you know?" I said.

"Yes I am," I conceded. "But at least I'm not a fucking dumbass."

"Maybe that's why we make such a good team," I ventured.

"Cheers!" we said in unison, as our glasses clinked together.

Look, I'm really flattered. Again. Really. And even a little bit tempted.

But, I'm not like that, and if you knew me at all you'd know that I'm not like that. It's perfectly normal for you to assume that I'm like every other guy on Earth, but I'm not, and I find it a little insulting when that assumption is made and made and made and made. There has to be a possibility of a future and, for us, there is none.

---

And you. I don't even know where to start. I've never known where to start.

Who are you? Do the girl I see, and the girl you are, do they have anything in common at all?

And who the fuck am I?

I keep finding myself wishing, more and more often lately, not that you would start, but that I would stop. This is a fucking huge shift, and I'm still trying to come to grips with it. My entire sense of self has blurred.

Not much that I can say about Friday. I got to see several of my favorite people, including my two most favorite people in the world. There was no drama, and I managed to keep my sadness in-check pretty well.

It fucking rained the entire night, so that sucked. But other than that it was a good night. Especially since that one crazy girl left as soon as she saw me.

I'll probably try to go to sleep again in a few minutes. I don't expect much success, though. I find myself back in the same pattern I was in several months ago. Two hours, maybe three if I'm lucky, and then I'm wide awake again. I think I've averaged about two hours per night for the last week. Maybe four hours per night for the past two weeks. I slept really well on a couch a couple of weeks ago. I think that was the last time I slept well.

The main difference, this time around, is that I don't know what keeps waking me up. If there are bad dreams, they're evaporating as soon as they've done their damage. Maybe I don't need to have those bad dreams anymore. Nothing has changed, after all, from when I hit rock-bottom back in May. Maybe those dreams are implied, and so they don't need to actually appear.

And I feel okay, I suppose. I'm not constantly exhausted like I should be. Maybe I'm getting used to this, finally.

All of the days and nights are blurring together. They have no meaning to me anymore, for the most part. Oh, sometimes they matter. Last night mattered for a while, until it reverted to just another night. I'm disappointed about that, even though I knew it was a real long-shot. Stupid hope may be stupid, but it's better than nothing, and it still stings when it's dashed. Still reminds me that I'm alive.

And I think Wednesday night was pretty fun, or maybe it was Tuesday. I wish I knew for sure about that one. For a few seconds there, I was smarter than OddlyFamiliarGirl, and that almost never happens.

In nine days I get to leave and maybe enjoy myself for a while. At least that's the plan. I've been afraid that I'll get this damn swine flu and have to cancel my trip. Or, even worse, I could get sick while I'm in Las Vegas. That would really suck.

I suppose, for the sake of completeness, I should say that there's a chance that I'm not coming back. It's not a big chance, but it's greater than zero.

Hmmm, I feel really tired right now. It's probably a false alarm, but I've got to try to sleep.

It's such a nice night outside. It's warm, I mean. So even though the predicted thunderstorms look like they're a no-go, it's still nice.

I'm going to go out to my garage, and sit on my el-cheapo white plastic furniture, and drink at least one yummy Marzen, and I'm going to try to get out of this damn writey mood that I'm in.

How do I do that?

Well, I allow myself to be overwhelmed. So that thoughts refuse to line up like baby ducks. So that my mind is awash and aswarm with thousands of conflicting thoughts and emotions. So that I couldn't pick a single tree out of that forest if my life depended on it.

I make no promises, though. I might be able to keep my big fat mouth shut, or I might not.

There are things that I need to say, dammit. There are things that need to be said, dammit. There are thoughts that need to be expressed, dammit.

There are dragons that need to be slain, dammit, or at least acknowledged.