One of the few people that I ever let into my life has suddenly passed away. She is one of the few people responsible for dragging me out of a really bad part of my life, though she never knew this.

Kai was an amazing person, someone who never took shit and dished it out without reserve. That was the first thing that I noticed about her. It led us to become good friends. She was awesome. 5'6'' with energy like a bat out of hell. She never had time for bullshit and she loved company.

There were times when I would go out to visit Kai in Denver, expecting a fun quiet evening. She wouldn't have it, zipping us around LoDo to 5 or more clubs in less than an hour was a common thing. We were always excited when we were hanging out. Looking back I realize that she had energy (not to mention attention span) to match mine, definately an uncommon thing. When Kai and I hung out, we went on adventures into Denver. It was fun for us to see how many places we could get VIP access into in one night.

Kai was a model and seemed to know everyone in Denver. Everyone certainly knew her. It was not uncommon for her to be off doing a swimsuit competition or a photo shoot. She was also a fitness instructor and adequately named her business MissFit. I remember receiving my first text from Kai with the MissFit tag on the end. I thought that was her nickname for a while. It certainly fit.

The summer was a blast for us at MYNT, though it passed too quickly. Halloween was amazing. Kai was stunning.

I don't know how much of an effect I had on Kai's life. I know I adored her. I do know that we had a great friendship. I know that I must of done something right though, something that makes me know that she was one of my few true friends. Once while we were out dancing, a song came on and she became really excited. She grabbed me and pulled me to the dance floor. After the song ended she started refering to it as our song. Whenever we were out together we would dance to our song. If we weren't out together we would text each other if the song came on.

Kai passed away last Thursday. We were able to dance to our song one last time just the Saturday before. I'll really miss her. The MissFit.

Love,
Nate

Working in Denver! Friends are home! Livin in Thornton! Word.

Eh, still not over it fully... lamesce.

DeidI  <---- comming soon!

8 more days.

My friends are comming home. I'm moving home. Working downtown. Paris here I come.

8 more days, my life as I know it is over.

Damn, the Muse is taking care still, keeping my actions on track, at least she hasn't abandoned me. Though they all might have. Ever since it happened, they all stopped talking. Do you know what it's like to be stared at by the ones who you were, knowing that they may never speak to you again? Shina, Val, The Ghost, Hunter, Jack, Angel Eyes, and now joined by The Husk.

Welcome to the everlasting family, Husk. We tried to deny you entry, but the pain that you brought us gave you a permanent spot here. It's a lovely place. Full of love, wonder, elegance, and all of the beautiful things in life.

The Ballroom Dance

I want you to picture a ballroom. The carpet is a lush red with violet outlines and a golden hue. The music is delecately drifting through the murmur of lovers dancing to it's tune. There is passion here, but it is a soft and quiet passion. One that both comforts it's audience and encases them in a sense of wonder. The walls do not exist here. In their place lies a marvolus forest, safe as can be with trees reaching to caress the sky.
The sky, in all of its beauty, serves as both the lighting and the entertainment. Shooting stars streak silently slipping with streams of milky shine. Their gleam is reflected in your eyes, brown like the surrounding forest trees. How serious they make you sometimes look, only to be outshone by a most amazing smile. Your gown is green, a fitting color for the queen. The sky reminds me of your hair, streaked with colors puncuated by the darkness of the night.
There it is again, the delecacy of the music. Ah! But wait, I am mistaken. It is not the music that I am feeling. It is your skin, your warmth, your breath and sound. Your feel. It is around me, encasing me.
You.

Alas I am tiard. I need rest. I'll write, maybe.

I remember beauty. I remember the care and fragility that came with beauty, It was precous and rewarding. I miss beauty, but I'm closer to getting it back. That's a scary concept for me.

Everything must change. Now is change something to be held back or encouraged?

John was a cool guy. I had heart surgery in the years of middle school. I was a little dibiltated for a while. John was the only mutha who still treated me like I wasn't something fragile. I was a boy and I wanted to participate in boyish activites. I'd fake hit hime and he would go right fro the chest, right where I still had gauze pads covered with blood and seepage from my wounds. He didn't care that I was wounded, he acted like I was normal. First instance of this that I can remember.

John died between freshman and sophmore year at my HS. He was in one of those christian vans that held too many passengers to be going up into the mountains. The van went over the edge of a barrier and rolled. John died.

I read about it in the school newspaper when they showed who had died over the summer. Can't remember the others, but he stood out. Why? I guess he was a friend. I'm bummed about what happened to him... I wonder who else still has thoughts of him. I wonder who else of my friends from my past are dead. I used' to roll with an interesting crew, wouldn't be suprised if most of them were gone now.

I've had a lot of death happen in my life. I've even held someone as they took their last breath. I've seen a soul disappear, or move on, or something. Hmmm, I wonder the long term effect of this occurrance.

-Nate, Tiard, Ambian, Out

(Jump to Paragraph 3) What is there left to explain, define, refine for you? Do we wish for a better understanding in this short timespan? Alas, I wish I knew what there is to know. Although you did pass some time ago (hard to believe that it's been 4 years) I seem to wonder if it was the... no wait, that's not right.

Lets start over, shall we? Death, as defined previously (though how long ago I can't remember), is something to avoid. As part of me passed on, it left something behind. I am having trouble in determining whether or not this part of me is (developing? Blooming? I rather find that I seem to be having trouble with this word. Ah well, it does seem to be a difficult subject)

Here's a snippit of my past. A side that I do not believe that I have ever really shared, not in depth. It's hard to explain how this reality that I had created worked. I lived quite differently from many. My lack of sleep used to take me many places. Home sweet home.

A different gender.

Nine worlds, each connected (literally) by tubes. Escellators of a sort. Kingdoms of both beauty and steel. A beauty, the greatest in the universe. Such powers, second only to a God. 100 brothers, 100 sisters. One love, many mothers, many enemies. The only weakness, a blue blanket. Metal spikes sliding bring pain. Death is unthinkable. Eternal youth. When the world is good, the siblings disperse and are united. When the pain of the beauty turns dark, the universe cracks with battle. She is good, but also the ultimate evil. When evil shows, the reluctant 200 unite to stand against. Many die. like a sonar, they hear her in pain, and hear when she needs them. They are far away and powerful.

Flight. Everchanging armor. Love. Being close to others. Always being saved. Bubble shields, layers of the stuff. Speed bikes. Crashing. Cages. Wall gliding. Speed and stealth. A child's infatuation.

Skinny and freckled. Red hair. Purple clothes with black. Purple with silver for the twin. Beautiful eyes, mine in fact. Pale. Skinny nose. Long legs, slender fingers, unpainted nails. Thin lips. Warm and innocent smile. Wise in the ways of a child. Adult thinking does not apply. Sharp.

Glowing balls that explode with a thought. Agility. A child, a teen, a young adult.

My teenage years: The Muse, Angel Eyes, The Ghost, My Child the Girl, My Child the Boy, My Love. A rose. The death of the universe. The room where she stands alone. The birth of the first child. The equality of the new characters. She becomes the mother and the daughter. The birth of a new universe. She is given freedom. The Muse is given charge of my sanity. She is a, possibly the, voice of reason. She keeps the archives. I ask what she would do. She guides me. My Muse. She takes care of The Ghost, I have the most humble gratitude for it. I love her for it, for taking care of my past love.

The Teacher. Breath excercises. Meditation. Fleeting.

The Grendel. A dark place of question. Warrior training. Thought training. Reality.

Ask me for more. Maybe I'll tell you her name. Nah, that would be telling my real name. I'll tell you my child/twin's name instead. She's as much a part of me as myself. ;)

-......................... Who am I really?..............................

What a wonderful ordeal! Just because.

As to what that actual ordeal was, well we'll just have to let ya'all think on that one. (seriously? I have no Idea why the hell I wrote that) I find it a bit ironic that I have taken ill as of today, yet I was taking NyQuill yesterday. Figures. BLAH being sick.

I wanted to go and work out but noooooo, I had to go get ill. Not that finals were comming up this week or anything. Wait... fuck.

Ooooohhh I'm BITCHING... how degrading. I've stooped to a new internet low. Bitching on a blog. Next step... EMO!

Damn I'm disjointed tonight. I think it would be a good thing if I were to just go to bed... or watch Robot Chicken. Ya, think I'm gonna do that.

-Nate

P.S. I seem to be becomming slightly inclined toward liking someone again. She lives a little far though. Hmmmm.

I wish I could describe something. I used to be able to. Words were as water to me; lovely to behold, flowing with a glimmer, and a feel aken to the touch of another. I miss that feeling, that flowing touch, that ease of prose.

Alas, woe to the one who misses the past. The flowing love of old has taken a touch away from the world. New beginnings sought cannot but be reminded of the past in time and pain. Futures arise, only to be tainted in their own longings of nostalgia.

But there is no bitterness, there is no hate, only the death of love. Shame on us for thinking of the undone. For thinking of the things that should have been, but are not. What is there to do but live. And live we shall. Going forevermore into that which is the unknown. Can't we see this path. It is taken by all. Crowded by that which we have populated into the phases of dragging out the light.

Do i feel dead? Unfortunately no, for that would suggest that I am not feeling. Not feeling, in some cases, would be a bliss when opposed to the alternative of pain. Pain, the dearth of life, the hindering brother of fear. The vile and decreped, all encompasing feeling that stops things from continuing as they were planned before. Reality comes hand in hand.

I feel pain, yet I pretend it hinders me not. I used to feel a sense of beauty about myself, yet now I only see beauty in others. One put it best when said "I wouldn't like me if I met me". I know how I came to this. Crawling out, now that is the question. How do I undo what I have done? How do I let go of what I have become and move on into the world? How do I wait for love again?

And that is what I have decided to do. I am to wait to fall in love again before seeking partners in anything intimate.

I am scared. My imagination is not up to par with what it used to be. My imagination is what got me through my past. Without it, I seem to be lost. I am scared that I have lost sight of hope, hope of love that is.

Terror is a word to be used lightly. But that same word is what is keeping me from feeling. Emotions used to drive me. I feel as if I have become a puppet and the world is my puppeteer. I do things in the order that was laid out before me. Opportunities fall from nowhere and find me. I'm just above the water while everyone else is drowning in the ways of the world.

To say I feel as if I were in my own head would be a lie. A game controller is plugged in somewhere and I seem to be unable to find the damn cord.

Aah, and here now comes that feeling. That feeling of vulnerability. What will they think of me? What are the conquences of putting my thoughts out into the world? Part of me screams at these thoughts. Another part of me laughs. Are there any consequences? In a strange world where lives of others are put up on the television, how do my own thoughts make an impact in the daily lives of others?

AAAAnnnD, as of now I percieve the NyQ to be kinkin in. How interestingly unstable, in the strongest sense of the feeling, the lack of the feeling. If it goes nowhere and continues forever, it must be time, right. How unright and rightous it feels to be eternally fucked in the human term.

If I believed in nonbelief, then I wouldn't be writing. Right? But writing is where it is. It's etched into the minds of forever if it is written.

I met someone the other day who is amused by the darker side of life. I remember being that way at one point. I'm getting closer all the time. Where to though has yet to be decided. If you reach the end are you dead?

There was once a girl named Rose. Rose lived a wonderful and magical life. Lets leave it there before it turns brutal (in a reality sort of way)

Fuck I'm tiard. Though I do not wish to leave you, my percieved readers. So what do I say? Live long and prosper. Whoot for the nerdy way of life.

I miss my ressonance. I miss my wavelength.

Heh, In simpler terms, I'm missing love.

I miss my ex.

Both of them.

They were cool.

Fun to hang out with too.

Wierd, this isn't in a depressed or nostalgia way. I guess it's just a fact. Like, if you meet someone really neat in life, you fall outta touch, then you want to know what's up with them and how they're doing. Holly shit that's caring! I give a shit! Wow. Epic.... wait...... why am I suprised by this?

Ok I take part of it back. I DON'T want to know what's up with the first one if she's engaged or anything. That would be wierd.

Random thought of the last five minutes.

Enchanted is one of the greatest movies ever!

-Nate

I only burnout when I'm depressed. But I can't get depressed (nearly as much) if I'm busy as all hell (the last few weeks). KonUnDrum!

Things I've learned (or noticed) recently- I'm competitive dammit! Drinking on a monday is a REALLY bad idea. (this is one of those no shit comments that you only look back on and realize AFTER the fact.) Burnout Workouts are friggin awesome, but you need at least 2.5 hrs to do this effectively. (BTP!) I miss MMA. Group projects are amazing senior year. The internet is only an addiction if you aren't using it as a job, at that point it's considered constructive (and justified!)

I've really been working on school so much that I've actually forgotten and had to be reminded what day it is. Shit gets wierd when you leave a place at 10PM and are right back there at 8AM. Most of the big projects are out of the way though. If you want to check one out (and see a really dorky pic of me and some friends) check out http://www.highparkranch.com/motor/  The whole site is the project. Cool huh. All graphics and photos/boards are actually shit we did!

Rock band rocks!

I wanna hang out.

Peace!- Nate