Tomorrow is my birthday. I have existed on this earth for 25 years. My lifetime is at the very best 1/4 of the way over. And that's fine, I guess. You can't live forever.

I have been doing too much thinking lately. Mainly about the past, about my past, and have come across a lot of strange forgotten things. When I was younger I was all about hardcore bands and read each band's lyric sheets in full. I always loved the Don't Look Back attitude that hardcore seemed to deliver.

But, I don't listen to hardcore anymore, not really. And I constantly look back.

But thinking about my past these last couple weeks I have discovered something about myself that I am not sure I'm proud of:

I burn everything in my tracks--not just bridges, everything. I change my mind, set a match, turn and go. Until recently, I never really looked back at all.

Anyone who knows me well will also atest to my unwavering devotion to Ernest Hemingway. I think "Snows of Kilimanjaro" is one of his best stories, which makes it one of the best stories of all time, if you ask me.

In the story, Harry is dying from gang green. Death sits at his feet and breathes upon his neck. His lady is with him, trying to make him comfortable while the wait for the medical plane to arrive. He resents her, resents the people he has known, the life he has led. He is determined to ruin everything he can before he dies, to take all the good with him:

"Is it absolutely necessary to kill of everything you left behind? I mean do you have to take away everything? Do you have to kill your horse, and your wife and burn your saddle and armor?" she asks.....

"Do you think its fun to do this? I don't know why I'm doing it. It's trying to kill to keep yourself alive, I imagine...............I don't like to leave anything," the man said." I don't like to leave things behind."

Does anyone else feel this way? I know every girl I have ever gone on a date with, or dated for a long period of time-- actually, pretty much every girl I've ever known-- would recognize the sentiments in me. And I don't know why I do it, really.

I used to consider myself a misanthrope of sorts, justifying my actions by call ing them intellectual rebellion. To quote Shai Hulud:

"I am the wayward son of man, my fathers have darkened what was the warmest
heart the world would have ever known, relish in what you have created.

deprived of life a formless shadow deprived of life
set your body ablaze!"

So, what i am getting at is that I want to break this habit. I want to move on, to stop being so angry at the world. It is going to kill me, the anger.