The lunatic awakes. He has slumbered long and now knows that little can change. He looks fear in the eye and shatters it with his gaze. Millions of shards fall around him in a display of power and beauty that cannot be imagined. Surrounded by this, the lunatic laughs. He laughs for joy and peace. Slipping away from reality he finds himself alone and accepts that he will be. He acknowledges that he will not find the one who will love him and takes that into his heart. He lays down, and fears no more, thinks no more. He is free from the pain.

Phantom dreams fade and the lunatic awakes with eyes glaring. All his hopes lay next to his body and slowly disappear from his sight. He hears a noise in the distance. Approaching it, he purposes an idea to have contact with this sound to view its beauty. Anticipation runs high and cannot be contained within his soul. The lunatic craves the beauty, desires to hold it, to touch it, to love it, to see it, to have it. The distances between the two can be circumvented, if it would only be allowed by either. Yet scores and scores of defiant little problems prevent either from allowing such an action. Simply living together for so long, they did not see the love develop. Hearts they are fragile, thinks the lunatic. Hearts can bleed, hearts can break, hearts can melt, hearts can divide, hearts can think, but hearts cannot heal. The lunatic is broken and confused. He does not know what to do, how to act, or what to say. Thus he sits and digresses. The power of the sound intensifies, and the fermentation of the torment continues as he lacks a solution to this ever burdening heartache.

Oh Happy Day

Upon this realization, the lunatic slept. He had not slept for years, and now as he lay in a bed sleeping, dreaming, resting he felt peace. Inside he had dreams so glorious, so wonderful, they cannot be fathomed within words. Love embraced him slowly and menacingly and yet he felt so joyful that he was completely blinded by this approaching storm. When happiness consumes the brain, it is easily distracted. Thus the lunatic slept unaware of the impending doom which awaits him when he awakens from his slumber.

All Good Things

As he lay upon the floor, in a pool of thought and sanity, he found the answer. The lunatic that no one could imagine, that not one person could conceive found it. The meaning of life. The littlest thing can make all the difference. He realized that upon this floor where he sat writing, that life is about what one makes it. Life is about the little things. Flames to dust, lovers to friends, all good things come to an end, but those times when they exist are the times which are to be treasured and held within. All good things come to an end, but while they last, live them to all of your ability. Hold on to those moments. Do not be afraid to let go of what you must, but do keep those moments in your heart. Never let them leave you. That is what life is about. The littlest moments of wonder.

Day 1- Saturday April 7, 2007

Well here it goes. The revocations of a lunatic. It begins rather in a quaint setting. A room, dark, mysterious, and void. There, in the midst of this room, lies a lunatic. He sits and types on his computer, alone, filled with hope. He writes of his recent discussion on the matter of men (he is gay after all). He has been speaking to an extremely attractive man for several days now. He has had doubts as to how to handle this new situation. And then, a light pierces through his darkness, a light which has come and gone before. He does not know how to act. He is at a loss. He sits and grumbles, and raves, and revokes what he has to say.