Prayer.

Hello old diary. I have arrived. I want to be able to write like Gruff Wharfdon or whatever the guys name who wrote that article in WQ was. Terrible English. Truly horrific. But I'm learning. 

3 months. We met at Lentil as Anything, and began our romance wiggling toes in the mud pits of Confest. Not a day since have we be apart. 7 days at confest. A week homeless in Melbourne. Another on the road back to Brisbane. A month at my mum's house, farting around, playing board games with my friends and getting annoyed with each other. A month at her parents' idyllic home by the rice fields in Bali. An experience, to be sure. What can I say? It was both great and terrible. A quarter of love and repulsion. A beautiful girl that I couldn't get away from fast enough. 

I am left with a feeling of emptiness. A welcome hollow in my chest. I see all the prejudices I clung to like a mast in a storm, and they seem trivial now, trite. Childish, if you will. My yearning for females if not disappeared, has dissipated. What could I want from them besides sex? And how quickly the sex turn rotten? I don't want to share my time with anyone right now. I have my space, and I feel like it needs to be defended with an iron sword. I feel, after this bout of reliance on another, a want to be alone, and to guard and feed my independence so that it never need happen again. To nourish my "fuck you." I hope I didn't hurt her too bad. She said I broke her. That before she was confident, sure of herself, and that now... well you get the idea. Nietzsche said his goal in teaching was to leave his clients a little less sure. A fine rationalization, if I say so myself. Comparance to antiquity lends credence in all cases. I cannot say truly that I have done her wrong. She will grow, much as she may not see it now. And who am I to know what path this will lead her down. 

When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I'll be gone
You're the reason I'm travellin' on
But don't think twice it's alright. 

It's time to be proud of my Aussie accent. I've been hiding it all these years behind a pretension of the King's. Let's be real. Proud of my heritage and my country. 

I ain't sayin you treated me unkind
You coulda done better but I don't mind
You just kind wasted my precious time
But don't think twice it's alright.