Two Meters: The Yellow Target.
2010-06-14, 6:35 p.m.

I arrived at 6:45pm and was told I have nothing to do but sit, and wait. I spent fifteen minutes neither thinking, nor speaking, nor moving. A proxy of Those Who Must Be Kept. Seven came around and I shifted; from white marble statue long forgotten-- to a hapless observer. Watching and listening carefully to all those around me.

I remember in the clearest sepia, coming home from school on my first day of sixth grade to find that my grandmother had died. The weeks following were a swarm of visitors and a sea of crying. But, I never cried.

My mother spoke to me and it was presumed that I had gained a profound understanding of it all. Though, I don't think I did.

Later in life, more specifically the last 2 years; or as I call it "The All Encompassing Present", I found my life (a little unfairly) littered with death.

It cost me a grand swaff of my primary thinking-- including my agnostic christianity.

For a moment in life I wander with absolutely no spirituality nor phylosiphy. The wheels of my mind circling a god that I knew didn't exist. And a reason for living, and dying.

We came to where we are together, and though I still haven't got all the answers, I'm happy. And maybe, just maybe, I don't need them.

At this point in my life I find myself grinding the line between skeptisism and mystisism. A contradiction I'm very comfortable with.

Do nothing

Repitition of HatredLoveless AvenueBurn Out (and) Fade Away