June the Fifth. The end.

I have long thought about this moment, these feelings and these words. But I never know where to start. Now especially, I am numb. I am numbed by my own fighting. My own desire, my own hope. I cannot make any sense. But I do not fall into that generic category of mutually accepted ideals.

This year -- I became alright with that.

June the Seventh
Finality.

I wish more than anything that I could fill this with every single conclusion I have reached by way of a revelation. Of course, I cannot do that. I can only report on my current state and proceed to burn some shit to the ground.

So, I guess I'm going to do that.

I am at a standstill that the conclusion of this entry will mark the end of. I am an impermeable entity that has surrendered all feelings of nostalgia to these pages forever. I am in love. And I fight for that love daily. I have cast all classification away and embraced all philosophy and religion for their individual importances. But above all else, I am not yet free. I am stifled and oppressed. I'm just ready to go.

But before I can go I have to seal this shut. I have to say goodbye to that summer. I have to say goodbye to the summer before it. I have to take all of it and understand that it was never where I belonged. I have to wake up and "tomorrow, we start new."

There is only one anomaly I can address. There aren't any more these feelings belong to.

There is only one that holds me back.

Only one that this season unrightfully belongs to.

Only one in which is everything.

Joshua Dylan Carroll,

Quite simply you are the foundation of everything beautiful within me. You showed me so much while I did so little. You brought me life and joy. You started a revolution within my heart of hearts.

You taught me of love and the fight it endures. You showed me light in things society deems are not right. You helped me enough to give me the power to transcend you now.

Do you remember the way the light used to filter into your house that summer?

Do you remember the days we danced?

Dear child, you have broken me and I must go now. I have words for you but they dwell in my dreams.

At the fear of them forever remaining I am writing this to you now. I am not certain of whether you will ever read this.

But I know that I want to burn you.

So here it is; here is the fire.

You left me, Dylan Carroll, to suffer a winter as dark as the leather jacket you wore that night. You stabbed at me vaguely as I backed away from you and said, "Fuck you. I hate you."

The eyes with which you looked at mine killed me. They killed my prospects and they killed Anabelle. You gave me this thing inside of my ribs that I can only call God . . . or Anabelle. She is who I find and she is who I am. She shapeshifts and gives me purpose.

You sent me to put pills in my body and created a fury of worthlessness. You tickled my heart and I had nightmares of you. You gave me less as you told me more. Frankly, you abandoned me and tried to deem it otherwise.

Do you remember whos' hand you held when you jumped off that dock?

Do you remember the day you learned to swim?

Do you remember The Cafe and Minutes and Trapezoid?

You helped me chase the streets with you but now I have found my own. I must bring myself to take SS Cambridge and these goddamn brakelights to your forehead and knock you out forever.

Dylan, you broke me. You brought me to the stars and then you broke me. This journal starts with you and tonight it ends with you.

I can believe I ever loved you because you are so beautiful. You radiate and you will go so far.

You are my favorite bastard because I know why you did this.

I want you to have peace and a colorful heart. I hope that wherever your own two feet take you can facilitate you luminosity. Do not sell yourself short by staying here.

Please Dylan, go forth into the infinite abyss and always know that you changed my fucking world.

I will make all the right reasons to fuck it up.

Goodbye, Space Cadet.
Goodbye, Leon.

It will not ever be as much as I do.

May 28th.

I will be June so soon.
How can I do that?
How can I just go forth?

I am terrified to feel so free. Just terrified to see the sun and color my eyes darker. There is no reason and no rhyme. I just feel a lot more this time.

One month ago, my life began. Thank you.

I'm gonna say goodbye
And never ever tell why
Because I, oh I, will do this thing and fly

May 26th.

I walk around now detached from my colleagues. But yet I still cannot hold my head up. My neck drops down and stares at my feet. I guess it's to remind me that I am moving. Going somewhere.

This is not outlook -- this is inlook. I just see and you do not. But man, brother and sister, you are not of my worry. You do not justify me and I do not justify you. We are all our own ego. We are all clay. I cannot condemn you for your mold, but I may challenge. I may reap vengeance on those who have oppressed me. I may call out those who lead silent lives of surface. They haven't any dignity to stake anyway.

Why are we all the bastards and bitches of a systematic equation in which we equal nothing? Why do we submit? I was born to speak on behalf of those who have not a voice.

I am too fast and too much for this building. I run whilst others trod. My love is stifled and my heart becomes blackened.

Sufjan sigh.

I have to save some for June. This is the hardest part.

Nostalgia. She is an enemy.

May 25th

Anabelle came out to play today. She plagues my evening as I watch her play a piano. The light of the moon is filtering in through the crevices created by the blinds. It is almost too much light to derive from the moon . . . but it is moon and only moon. My heart swells and stretches not far enough to reach my eyes. I am at peace with the war around me . . . and drawn into the belligerence within me. I killed you, I killed all of you. But I forgot to take your bodies to the morgue and they are closed this late. So your dead carcasses, they rot before my irises and haunt me still. But ah, oh children, you are only ghost and I have come to abhor you more than most.

You take the waves and create a current so adherent to your dead spirit. There is so much blood in the water now it hurts to swim. I called on the Lord to heal the hope that was slain. Alas, he gave me some rain. But my heart was all in vain. I just never wanted to look like that again.

Fight on one with the sun. Fight on.

You're it.

May 24th

I changed my mind again.

Anabelle only surfaces when she desires.

I cannot force that.

--

Man, you do these things
My bretheren you are so foolish
Where did your mother go so wrong?
To make you see an answer in blindness
Walk and defeat
In the endless summer heat
Fight oh, all ye
Gain access to a kingdom of counterfeit glee
Children, hide from your mothers and always keep from your fathers
Make your own way
Man, you do these things

Heat. May 22nd.

I've gotta be honest, doing this is hard. So hard. Because I know that pretty soon these pages will expire and I will have to start new. It will be so hard to write into June and knock all of these trophies off of the wall and win some more. It will be so hard to kill what once kept me so alive. It will be so hard to walk into the summer with different eyes.

--

In March of 2008 an entity I call Anabelle was born. She will forever haunt me.

I will fill the proceeding pages trying to articulate who she is.

Until June . . .