Another Part of me is Gone

What makes pain complete in its unpretentious purity is that it loves to rely on
fate's twisted hand and time's cruel imperfections to deny the shepherd of his sheep,
the forest of its rain and the ocean of its wind.

I've blogged about this character for quite sometime. She is with little debate my closest
and most admired sub, my friend, my sibling in Rock 'n Roll and more importantly someone who
means so much that it's taken me a trip of my senses down memory lane and the streets of consciousness to really understand how much she means to me.

I am not one to wallow in love.

I am not one to misinterpret lust for something nostalgic.

I am not one to display my emotions and its landslides for the world to feast on.

But it doesn't mean that I forsake or rebuke Love. I believe in it. I just perceive it in different dimensions.

Like all things in life; love and pain make strange but compatible bed fellows.
In fact they seem to crave each others company so often that you'd wonder if
there is love without pain... and whether or not at the bosom of all pain lies a
defaced spirit of love.

I've slammed this girl on my blog, I've praised her and I've threatened to estrange myself
from her but like a moon that is the opiate of any night sky I've grown accustomed to this creature's faults, her flaws and it's the small things she does that stays with me.

We went to the bloody airport yesterday and watched her leave with tears swelling in her eyes
and fear clutching at her thoughts 'cos she's never traveled alone before and never been to Europe before and now here she was having to head out to Zurich to re-unite with her father and brother who she has only known by name and not by association.

Plus, the woman has a chance to make a life for herself over there. I am not a wise man who'll place all my bets on just any fool's gold. There cannot be good things without sacrifice. And the sacrifice was that she must leave her friends and family; her Rock 'n Roll click behind to venture new ground and carve a future for her that will help her discover the power of independence and the secrets that inspire confidence.

I miss her.

I do love her.

And I am very cold now. Because like I said there is no love without pain.

But since this is what's best for her - I must be the messenger, mediator and messiah that is always there for her - even if for awhile - I cannot be with her. That's life. That's love. That's the perfection of pain.

And so once again I must be strong for her... for the click... and everyone who needs me.

And I must be strong for me.

May God hear your silent prayers and may you never be afraid to falter to learn.

We are and will always be there for you Spani.

I've fucked like a wolf and had the pleasure of knowing a lot of different women. There are those who are born and enslaved to class, those who are professionally adept, those who are educated, those who have intelligence that is unparalleled and others who've been there for me through some pretty dark times.

But this girl has stuck with me and the click with more fervency and loyalty than most, she's worked her ass to the bone to make something out of a life that was already impaired and scarred - was never her doing but she was the victim of changes as Judas Priest sang. She's had to build a world of conscious and carnal knowledge through experience and mistakes.

I can attest though that very few people have the same spirit of kindness, such a strong sense of crippled grief, such a bizarre adherence to negativity and pessimism, so much of compassion, such a big heart and the fearlessness to stand by those who she loves without pretensiousness. We've all made mistakes and some of us revel in our foolish pride and always will. All the silly things she used to say, and how she loved our doggies like no other, how she would fight for Stigmata and the lot of us... the way we argued and even got violent to the point of tearing each others eyes out. It's the small things right?

The way she'd always serve us food and keep it aside before anyone else in this place.

The way she'd always leave a bong shot for us before sharing it with others or even having a shot herself.

The things she tried to say that were so predictable and pissed the living crap out of me after a hard day's slaughter session. But then I know in her own way she's trying to be there for me.

The way she looked at me with a silence that spoke a thousand bleeding words.

The way she stayed with us when others we valued blew out like candles in a thunderstorm.

Come back to us... come back to me. But first make a life for yourself.

You know me and pain >:-[