2:50pm on Sunday is an odd Hour

Such a weird time of day.
Such an obvious "On The Fence" time of day.
2:50...

Not quite 3.
Too late to eat lunch, too early for dinner.
Too late to go to the beach, too early to use that as an excuse.
Too late to start an "All-day" project, still too early to use that as an excuse.
Too bright out for naps, too early for siesta.

2:50...Heh. 25 with a zero.
25 is like that.

Too late to start over, too early to give up.
Too late to change everything, too early to feel like you have to.
Too late to try the easy life, too early to stop dreaming.
Too late to feel entitled, but too early to let others have all the fun.

2:50 is a dangerous hour. 25 is a dangerous age.
You have all your potential right in front of you.
If you've lived at all its not your first time around, your first battle, first goal scored.
Been there done that, should at least be a thought.
Whether its appropriate to speak out loud or not.
25 can mean you've just gathered all your troops. Loaded all your guns, and prepared for war.

2:50 can mean, man its been a great day so far.
Or I'm just getting started.

Well, I'm just getting started. Watch what I can do.

Sober

Its 87 days. I'm still sober... I'm not going anywhere. This world can't break me...This vice won't win. I run my life. I make my days, my own way. 90 days here I come.

hate

I hate you...so much. You make me miserable. You make me want to die. To disappear and be the martyr and well of sorrow in everyones chest for however long it will last. You make me want to write a note blaming it all on you so you will realize how bad you made me feel. You make me want to punch, bite, claw, swing, headbutt, knee and kick anything I can reach. Anything within my body's capacity. You make me want to burn my house down, burn other peoples houses down, just because. You make me want to pick up and leave you wondering. Just move and never come back. And I will tell everyone stories about where I came from and how I had to get away. I'll make most of it up to seem gloomier than it was, and make myself seem more victimized. I'll start to believe my lies and wonder why I don't let anyone else in. When really its because I gave you the key to my lock years before. You make me hate days that should by glorious. It's beautiful outside and all I want to do is hide and dwell on the anger. You make me want to write you mean letters and lash out with all that you accuse me of doing. You make me want to actually do those things so you will be right. So for once you will be accusing me of something that I've actually done. You make me want to be better at everything that I do that doesn't involve you so that I won't feel like I need you anymore. Even though i do. And will. You make me want to do so many sweet things, but I don't because I only feel like you will think I'm doing them to cover some bad thing I've done up. You make me want to do desperate things, like drive up there and see you right now just to prove I will. But the only sensible shred left in me knows that I can't afford it, and my car might not make it, and I have to have a job...which I would lose...So instead I do nothing. And wish you knew I wanted to do something. You cut me so deep and so hard every time you tell me you love me and still go to bed with him. And don't even try to hide it. No one deserves to feel this way, to put up with something like this. But I do, because maybe you will appreciate the sacrifice, maybe you will see that I am putting myself through some of what you put yourself through so that now we might be even. Every self respecting part of my body, that knows I'm better, wants to scream "go to hell" turn around flip you off and never look back. It wants to say "you think you can do this to me? I'll show you" and spend the rest of my life finding ways to spite you. Knowing damn well you will just move on and the anger and vengeance will only consume one of us. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I don't even know how many ways to describe that, and it makes me sick to think of you and someone else. Its the only thought that can physically make me puke to this day. I gagged right now simply typing it. I want to tear into my chest, pull my heart out and actually hand the bloody mess over to you so you will have some concrete proof that it is yours. All the good its doing me now, keeping me breathing so I can spin my wheels and waste someone elses time. You make me want to just hold you and be there and show you that I won't let you down like you think I will...if it were possible its all I would do every moment of every day...and you won't let me...or let yourself try again...but you won't let go either...why won't you let go? you try to force me to do it so many other ways...maybe so it won't be on you? So you won't have to deal with the fact that you might have made the wrong choice? years from now when we are different people in different places...would it make it easier if I were the one to walk away? Sorry...I tried, I can't....I hate you so much...

But I love you more...