Shower Epiphany: You have been warned and you should be running.

I've come to the point o my life where I had in one way or another ended up with a dead ego. And for what it is worth, it has been more of a bonus than a hinder. It has kept me humble and lowly enough to see how things are once we remove the social blinders that come with most ceremonies in our lives. It has removed any shame from me to ask the hard questions in which others usually fear reprimand or a "dark mark" upon their reputation or "honor". It has given me freedom that only a man who can get showered and dressed in 5 minutes in pitch dark can afford. It allows me to sit in the dirt among those who have been ostracized and mocked for their lack of false empathy towards topics that only serve to keep one preoccupied with imaginary illness and afflictions that can be worse than any tangible disease. It has given me the ability to question my behavior first and secondly to find my uncomfortable sections in life and to know what can be held against me if I revel in that shame and discomfort. It has also given me the opportunity to cut to the bone and tell others directly what is and what should be without fear of reprimand. It has given me a clear value of the truth that no lie can ever give me or save me from what may come. It has made me honest to a fault and loyal to those who are willing to look into the hard questions and dare speak of what may be called the truth.

And yet, I have to admit that this lack of ego has also hindered me greatly. It has caused me to turn away from gambles in life that most are willing to take. It has given me a low view of what I value as a human being and has not only killed off any idea of selfish thought, but a need to simply say that I could use something in a form of comfort. It has kept me from seeking medical help until I can manifest a fever of 100 degrees at minimum. It has caused me to look at certain people and ventures and made me walk away with what may be and could have be done. It has also forced me to think of the other person to the point where I am shirtless and penniless. It has in many ways forced me to keep within safe passage ways and detoured my life to the worth of others if only to be valuable to them and know that I can not risk any error in cause that something may go wrong. It has made me double check my math, not to be certain due to pride but knowing that if I am wrong it will harm others, something that is highly valued yet usually praised for quickness. I know that my lack of drive and ambition has been attributed to this and in many cases only allows me to enjoy the smell of flowers rather than to cultivate my own garden.

And yet, every now and then, an insolent voice calls out and ask the words of a hard youth and bloodied knuckles. "Why not?", it calls out to me in protest and angst. It shouts within me as someone who I may never be rid of permanently at any time. It's the voice that demand my veins be filled with ice and my spine of steel as I stand up and raise my voice. It's the nerve that screams an everlasting, "fuck you" when everything has been trampled on. It's the rage that causes me to fight with those bigger than me or at least offer the smaller opponent a club or companion in their beatings. It's the harshness of my words, "No, you can't tell me what to do". It's the stubborn mule that has pushed me forward even if my pace was nonexistent to the eyes of the visually lazy. It's the giggle that leaves me that puts fear in the opposition and cheers in those foolish enough to support me. It's spark in my eyes that lets the world know that only an asshole can do things without fear of condemnation and the grin that lets others know my last fuck was given ages ago in a young and stupid time. It's the blink of an eye that results me in waking in odd places and the animalistic need to gravitate towards the blue haired women and festivals under the full moon. It fuels my sarcasm and embitters any victory that has been taken from me to those who may hope for sweetness in my defeat. It's forces me to get up and declare that only a bitch can hit that hard and that is the last of the freebies given. It drives me to a suicidal need to push harder than ever and a hope that I may not breathe much longer. In truth it gives me the ability to not give a fuck, especially when those are silent and forced to, cowardice be damned.

Those small moments in life where those to voices are in unison are usually why I've been "blacked balled" by the lazy and the immoral. It's why I remove myself from my own chanting crowd already knowing that I've won and that my time has been shorted by half. It's why I don't care if opportunity is lost and why I'm able to say I will survive this. It leads to some of my greatest failures that most love to savor in loud and almost guttural tones and yet when successful it proves that my legend will out live it with or without me around. It inspires others to become insolent under the right conditions and to stop tanks head on. It forces me to abandon all resolve for a moment of time that I may lose or I may win, but either which way I shall walk away victorious in leaving deep foot prints and epic tales. It is the knowledge that I will "die cool" and once gone life will breathe easier only to face the nightmares of me alive once more. Those moments counteract my feeling of nothingness and conjectures with, "since I'm nothing then I guess I CAN do this and it WON't matter, right? The Universe will heal if given enough time". And that it does....or at least it heals faster than me.

Those moments.....those miserably few moments are what allows me to live a little longer and tolerate the boredom of existence. Those moments are what matter most.

...oh.....and I just had one just a little while ago......


You have been warned.