Tuesday, June 22, 2004

No Man Is An Island

I sat down for a daily installment. I'll admit, that in my standard rollercoaster of emotional zeniths and depressions, I was running surprisingly high. I mean, how much can a guy ask for? A job, a place to live, friends who call him on the phone, romantic interests to at least give his life the semblance of some emotional connectivity (truth be told, there is very little)and the core feeling that things are changing for the better. Everything is just cruising along. I am an island. I am Hugh Grant in About A Boy. Nothing needs changing, I don't actually want anyone to break down the wall that keeps me safe in my castle on the island of simplicity.

So who the hell does the G2K think she is that she can simply book a ticket to my home and show up on my doorstep? Well, today she apparently bought a plane ticket. No man is an island. I'm an Island! I'm Bloody Ibiza! She might show up on my doorstep but there are certainly no commuter planes to my island! The sad part about it all is I really am Hugh Grant. I think to break this one down we'll have to go back more than a few years. I think maybe back when I was two. Man, I was a terror. I can't believe my parents stuck it all out. But somehow they did. I was a terror but I was a brilliant terror. While I was making my parent's lives miserable I as also questioning the meaning of life. Yes, that sounds like a lot for a two year old, but I guarantee it was true. Somehow, though, a combination of my parents' iron will and my teacher's suffocating grasp, I was silenced. All my rebelliousness and brilliance and outgoing nature was forced to surpression. There it lie dormant. If you can't say something nice don't say anything at all. Every once in a while I slip but for the most part I have kept a tight lid on what I once was.

One of these days, someone is going to come along, build a bridge form the mainland and start an all out assault on my wall. I'm afraid that this is exactly the G2K's plan. She'll show up with a few catapults, battering ram and ladders and the next thing I know, the whole world will flow in. But for now, I am an Island. I am happy alone. I am happy with shallow relationships, sleeping in by myself on Sunday afternoons, eating leftovers for dinner, washing my whites and darks in the same load, living the life and bloging for the betterment of not one single solitary soul besides myself.

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