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Saturday, May 26, 2012

Living Journal

Tonight I will be working on my novel which will be a relief and a more indepth soul searching than this shallow chain of events known as dublinmurph.  The word, generic in itself, the after effect, searing --like a deep cut that has carved a hole in me.  Is he under the obedient command of some higher force?  A slave to women?  After texting me 60 times yesterday, he is now gone like a vagrant wind in a buried sunset.  I have to make my honest claim on the affliction he has laid on my heart and put me asunder.  He has put me deep in debt to my Christian pilgrimage, an unwilling distraction to my higher calling.  I did not want an even exchange of sexual pleasure for his impunities.  I wanted freedom from the text, the technological driven form of communication which is a burden to all who engage in it.  I was thinking of eliminating it from my phone but I have friends who don't hound me every day of the week and for them, I will retain the service.  Between a budding acting career and the burden of unfulfillment he stirs within my soul, I have little rest.  James keeps me grounded, God keeps me near.  I need the Bible and my reading eyes but not him.  Not him anymore as he tears me asunder, damages my heart and lies about the very substance life is made of.  The substance of heart and soul and affection.  He can't, He can't and I am laid to rest....

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