Okay, so there I was, finally in sunny San Diego. We'll get into more on actual San Diegan living when I update the rest of this site. Anyway, a new rant on one of the things most wrong about being there was born within those first two months of trying to adjust and not knowing anyone. Everything may have been great geographically and superficially, but I had left a long list of admirers at home, and those could not be replaced easily. Ironically, I was away just long enough to not really have that many still on the Carlos fanlist by the time I did return. But we'll also get into that later.
This rant is a little bit different from the other rants in the sense the prose is not in it's usual form and it rhymes. Ew!! An actual steretypical poem! That's right, it only gets worse the older I get. All right, to the point already!
I call this one:
I asked for this, I did,
not knowing what I'd unleash,
the pain, hate and misery:
the rage of the beast.
The pedestal once there,
how tall it did stand,
What I unknowingly did
was take it for granted.
I foolishly wished it away
into the cold black of tomorrow,
the ending result horrid:
Pain, angst and sorrow.
If only I had known then
the things I do now,
I may more fully have relished
rather than pondering the how.
I actually grew to resent
my triumph on life,
and instead I steadily ran
To a new start with strife.
What I had never once pondered,
my ego thence big,
was that this cycle might reset,
a new hole I would dig.
For somehow, some way,
I returned to the stage,
my lines all forgotten,
my mind a puzzled maze.
What had I done
in leaving you all
but call up the old feelings
then shut out so long?
To once be respected,
loved and adored
by the many and plenty
beside me so long. . . .
Then to once again be nothing,
and a no one so empty,
I take it all back now, for
my heart's more discontent, see.
What have I done,
and what did I do?
Sure, the weather is lovely,
but oh how I miss you!
next verse . . . .
