11:32 p.m. - June 06, 2005
In return I manufactured lies. Yes, I love the travel. Yes, I'm still writing poetry. Yes, I've finished the bathroom remodel. Yes, I'm thinking about going to the conference in Brazil. It isn't that I wanted to look successful or well-adapted or happy, but I just didn't want to be the same Jason I've always been, wish I could break out some undiscovered part of me - In my spare time I've been skydiving - so that I could honestly say I've changed, too. The reality is that I haven't, or at least not for the better, and perhaps I'm projecting but I sensed she was relieved we've gone our separate ways.
Even so, I hate goodbyes. I hate them so much I keep people a certain distance where goodbyes aren't expected, where I can meander like a holly jolly nobody, where little is expected of me and I expect nothing of others. And lately - a long string of goodbyes, as if I've finally reached the terminus or drop off point except that this time it's not me cutting ties but people moving on. People like Nividian, or Floodtide. And Joel - so quickly that was gone - Twids, Shanni. I thought tonight that there isn't much of me worth hanging onto beyond a certain point: I am, simply, a dud. I did not like thinking this. If a dud, be a dud and be content in sameness, the plodding, the relentless quotidienne of the little things that comprise a life. But I despise my dullness, but not enough to be otherwise, just caught in the swell between hate and revulsion like a beach ball floating away from shore.