This entry marks the revamp of all extraneous, legal, and informational pages within Coma. We have aligned
everything so as to follow the central theme of the index. Things look a tad more professional now. Next the FAQ
will head in the same direction, lest it disappear like so many other sections throughout the past few months.
"The feelings began because once again we watched a film we should have avoided. Some of these films are very
deeply emotional and remind us of things from the past that we wish not to be dredged up, but at the same time we
need them dredged up. Life for us, as we cannot speak about others' lives, is like riding a train along a track
which has turns but no switches. The track moves along a predetermined path where we should be going, and when a
bad decision is made the train derails attempting to turn. The turn is forced and so the train leaves the track.
Railroad lines do not respond well to being pushed off course. The decision is the catalyst and the resulting
wreck is us.
There is no one else on the train. We have searched and searched the three locomotives, and during those times
when it is moving slowly, we have scoured as many of the carriers as possible. We must venture back to the engines
before they gain enough speed to leave us behind. Without anyone to control the diesels, we are at the mercy of
them. For whatever reason, or possibly solely out of fear, we continue to search for others. There is no engineer,
brakeman, conductor, nor is there a switchman. The last of these would be helpful because without a switchman we
have no hope of changing direction. And despite the occasional turn to the left or right, the entire affair moves
along a generally straight line. It rolls and rolls. At times the train feels as if it will roll over us if we are
not careful.
One locomotive can be six thousand horsepower. This is three. Do the math. Yep... Plenty. Well, this is not the
first occasion upon which we felt so much of a load bearing down on us. Every sighting of those female forms of
which we have written extensively is similar. There is just no fucking end to anything. Either the visions push
us down, or the train. There is no middle within which we can rest and regain any clarity. The whole thing is too
much, and constantly it tries to win over our tender ability to stay above the dirt. Since the Internet has a
billion users visiting a billion different sites, perhaps one person will stop by this dump to see what may be
happening at any given moment. Um... Perhaps not. Seeing as this is our only path outside of ourselves, shit is
not looking terribly positive. Ya know? This is ugly, filthy, desperate. That last term is more than appropriate,
don't you think?
That was the worst. And we have not been able to travel anywhere near that area since. We simply cannot due to the
loss and the interminable feelings of distress. The weight and motion of the train directs us past memories we
constantly fight to push away. Combined with all of the other lousy and cutting thoughts from the past many years,
our current position in life, and the idea that we are going absolutely nowhere in this shit world, the train is
not assisting us in any way. It is simply in charge of us in too many ways to state clearly. There is no mercy
whatsoever. The train forces us to recall that terrible fucking wreck of a year, the issues and joys therein, and
the resulting loss which caused a change in us of massive proportions. It is still going on, in fact, and each day
we are reminded in some manner of the difficulties and choices, and the resulting war which arrived in our sorry
heads.
One day very soon the train of life will ram us into a position which requires a decision. Do we continue throwing
our thoughts, desires, and feelings up here for all time? Lacking hope? Sans resolution? Or do we finally flee the
mighty diesels in favor of another path? Whichever, the end is the same... We have been here before, and we know
why. As stated clearly above, we did this to ourselves out of a lack of sensible thought and reasonable
decision-making, and we are beginning to believe that the writing, analysis, and fucking effort toward an
understanding has been entirely misplaced. We know where we should be, we know it is far away from the others, and
we know that the distance is necessary for their benefit as well as those of the future. The train needs to demand,
dictate, and finally throw us under the fucking wheels in order to force us toward where our destiny speaks -- has
spoken -- and into a place where any further understanding matters not. We will, at long last, be among the fruits
of our painful and fucked-up decisions, actions, inactions, and resulting difficulties inherent in attempting to
fit in. The world may no longer be where we belong.
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