vincentclark dot com

through the good times and the bad, people only want to read the upbeat and positive, but when things go south, when things get bad, people only want to be concerned. the sad reality is, it will pass. the saddness of all the work done as it is all deleted will fade in time. next year at this time my trip from Detroit to Ann Arbor, 16 hours worth of flying in Flight Simulator East to wind up only a few miles west from where you started west from where you started lost on a hard drive toss in the dumpster. all the posts, writings, thoughts, encapsulated inside a mind in which the ones closest to him could only stand by for so long.

How sad are we when our own mothers grow impatient with our recovery and want nothing to do with you? what is the motivation for creating the beacon of all who you are when they will never see the truth of who you are so it’s existence is meaningless? ones and zeros on a magnetic plate, all my ideas, trivialized and lost.

how can a man believe in himself if his own mothers do not? how does he rise above the hand he has been dealt when they see nothing but failure? the knowledge of the envitable burns with the reality of what needs to be done, to live up to their expectation, and that is to fail and become hallow inside.

the hell then becomes a promise that you made 20 years, four months, and two days, and the knowledge that with a cruel word and a command line thw promise has to be broken.

today concern alone will not save the day.