I'm devastated,  I thought I've come in terms with all this but it seems I have emotions still clinging,  attached to this, to her. 

Nostalgic in a sense,  this is a plea from my existence,  acknowledgement that I am here,  that I am alive living my life half waiting, half trying.  Living but dead at the same time.  I can't stand it anymore.  I devoted myself so I could become better,  because I knew it was possible,  just a lot of hard work and dedication was all it took.  But if only it were that easy.

Every day,  I face my fears.  Every day I get less scared.  Every day I wish you were here. I made a mistake,  you were too great, I felt miserable for being incapable of making you happy.   But days have gone by,  months have become years and all I have are these words,  spelled out like destiny, like I have no free will I give you my plea;

Please...  Come back to me.

It's been awhile since I wrote anything in here. Is it too late? I came back for a visit and I see Xanga hanging by a thread, seemingly on life support by donors who continue to feed their emotions to this site. If the Internet had a heart and soul these blogging websites would be the epicenter and we're about to lose a piece of that heart. I've spent $100 to support Xanga in the past and I could easily do it again but this time it's not the same... Her life is on the line. There's 10 days left to raise $17,388 to reach the $60,000 goal to upgrade Xanga to a cyborgish sounding version 2.0 but in all honesty it seems plausible and far fetched at the same time. I wish I could single-handedly dish out the amount to save Xanga like some eccentric millionaire but I'm not one and I can't. The only thing that I will do is donate that $1 (heck I'll double it make it $2) and see/(read) Xanga to it's end and pray that there is hope in the continuation of this site and community it has sprung up along the years of it's existence. I came here about 9 years ago as a bewildered teenager who liked to express his colour of his soul. In that decade I went from merely talking to myself and being a love-drunk-hopeless-romantic to being able to form somewhat logical and sometimes compelling compositions. I enjoyed it. When I was on the flight back from Japan back in April I decided to watch a documentary on human evolution, (I know geeky right? Canadians and Japanese people love documentaries) in that documentary it showed that the part of the human brain used for making tools was also responsible for the development of language and speech. They needed to explain and share knowledge of how to make and utilize the tools to others. In other words by using this tool called "Xanga" I had been unconsciously evolving the part of my mind that separated us humans from other animals. The ability to use tools and communicate with each other to form relationships, families, societies; connections. Everyone here is a part of my family. We are Xangans. I take pride in that and if this site survives extinction, wonderful. I'll promise to drop by more often. If it doesn't...

I enjoyed all the emotions and thoughts everyone's words have conjured in my heart and mind. It's not for certain but I don't want to regret so I will say goodbye to you Xanga. I hope you can reach your goal and evolve to 2.0 and take us along with you so we can continue to solidify our souls together with these letters and help keep the Internet as humane as possible.

Good luck and take care.

P.S Thank you Xanga team for all the hard work over the years! Hopefully the legacy will live on.

Somewhere between the sands of time I have lost the connection to this blog of mine...  Taking a leap to extend my hand to those in need was my original plan... but sometimes it just doesn't work out as planned so I ended up taking the back up plan...

I'm sorry if I hurt you but I hope you understand.  That I do care for you I just needed to do something I couldn't withstand.  I made some mistakes but I guess that's what it takes to learn from your actions and find the right attractions... Lust ain't the answer but trust might be wiser...

I wasn't really upfront so it just made stuff harder because I couldn't accept myself I said "why bother"...
I was so ashamed I wanted to become better so I took it in my hands and wrote it down in a letter... That I will become stronger and achieve my goals and do what it takes to play the best roles...

If evolution is survival then please be my rival so we can become fit together like two pieces of this perfect puzzle called life and cuddle all night even into the afterlife inside dimensions we might call heaven above the plane where pixels rain as digital sands of time...

Happy Birthday you! September 2nd 1987 - 1:15 AM I was born in the middle of a storm.

I decided to get 'No Touch' PRK done to correct my vision.  I woke up still feeling a little intoxicated and dazed from drinking at the pub last night, I sleepily stumbled out of bed without bothering to find my glasses and went to the washroom. As I stood in front the mirror I looked at my blurred reflection and realized this scenario will be a thing of the past after a week.  I would stand in front of the same mirror in the same washroom yet one thing will be different.  I would be able to see myself clearly.

I relished in the thought that there was a time limit to this experience of having a blurred reality, so I went about my morning without wearing my glasses.  There was left over temaki zushi from dinner last night so I decided to have sushi for breakfast.  As I was about to eat I had an urge to watch some television as I somehow acquired a long time ago the habit of enjoying some television or internet as I ate.  Then realized I wouldn't be able to see anyways, so instead I engrossed myself in what I could see.  I noticed the individual grains of glossy sushi rice, to the contrast of its white on the dark green nori.  The veins that ran though the tuna slices to the brown discoloration of the avocado by oxidation.  There was detail in this perspective I had come to trust and understand in the last eight years.  As if stuck in a bubble of blur and I only had less than an arms length of clarity to live by.  I turned my head and looked out the window, my yard was a mix of greens and the sky was a puddle of blue and grey.  As if my mind was oblivious to the outside world.

I remember the day I got my first pair of glasses.  I was sitting in biology class and was taking notes from the overhead projector when I asked the teacher if he could focus it a bit more because his writing appeared blurred.  He adjusted it and asked if it was better, I squinted my eyes and said 'no'.  The other students in the class was assuring him that it was clear enough.  That's when I realized it wasn't the projector at all, it was me.  The same day I told my mom I needed to get my eyes checked so she took me to the optometrist and behold, I did indeed need glasses.  By the time it was made the sun had fallen and it was night.  As we drove back home I remember looking up at the night sky with my new sight and realized that I had forgotten how truly majestic the moon and stars were.

Within these eight years I had gone through five pairs of glasses, countless contact lenses and thousands of dollars to replace them.  Let alone the discomfort and nuisance I felt just to be able to see clearly.  It made sense for me to save up enough to get this procedure done as they also honour a lifetime re-treatment warranty in case your eyesight does go bad after the operation.  At this point, there is no looking back, by tomorrow I would be in the clinic and they will be prepared to vaporize a layer of my eyes.  My mind is filled with a vision.  A vision of clarity of what I must do with my life.

They say seeing is believing and I can't wait to attest to that.

I accept this pain. The accumulation of all the wrong choices I have made over the past three years has finally caught up to me. With this acceptance as my guide I will embrace the change needed to become a better person, to take back what is rightfully mine. Self control, self esteem and none other, being myself.

I told her I loved her.  She asked me how I was so sure.  To be honest I wasn't at the time, only until she was gone did I realize what love really meant.

I miss the comfort of my own words.  The experiences trapped within my own head takes form as words and if I work hard enough those words become sentences and those sentences become paragraphs.  If I shape the paragraphs into lovely sections describing what I want to promote or debate they link together to become an essay.  However sloppy or misleading it may be, we strive to pull out a point straight from our heads and attempt to illustrate it by using almost mystical and infinite patterns of words to create ... well, feelings.  I ask myself; "what feelings have I conjured within you if I were able to at all?".

I really do hope I left some kind of flavour on your tongue...

Ahochuchu- Broadcast your self LIVE