Don't believe? Feed a stray animal some moist chicken or beef from your own plate and they will enter a kind of epiphany where all their suffering has been worth that one moment and you will never be alone since they will stand by your side as companion and confidant. In fact, don't do so unless you are ready to look after them and take them in since that little sliver of hope and gratitude can crush their little heart quickly if you are not ready to have them into your life.
Huh.....that's what this is all about, isn't it? That sliver of hope that can crush us if it's unfed. Not like the first embers of what can be life giving fire it does not punish you for not being unless you count that lost opportunity to have it as grave. BBQ not so much, but in the wilderness with nothing else on your side you will understand that there is nothing more devastating that lost hope.
So yes, I'm here to plead my case, tell my tale and to offer confession to all who watch me now. I do not kneel to any deity but to the universe that spawned me and made me cry out into the coldness of the world. Ha.....no....no I can't blame people for what is done, no matter how much I may want to nor am I going to begin now. Sometimes shit just happens and we can choose to see it as it is or as it could have been. And yet, in my odd case I never had taken time to look at it, but simply force another step forward to this figurative place where I could finally arrive and lose my burdens.
Well, this is it. I'm there. To be honest, I never really believed I would get here. That eye of the storm or the safe harbor where I can find enough solitude to feel.....safe. In fact, the idea of feeling safe has never occurred to me. I can not tell you how safe I finally feel and that work has been done not by my reluctant hands and numb hands, but the work of individuals who I love more than anything in the world. They have done much to offer me some sort of anchor to moor myself to and to finally feel that I am no on the run. Even nomads much know where home lies to travel away from it. And yet with my vagrant soul I had fond no peace or shelter. The last time I've held a concept of 'HOME' that was not chaotic, poisonous or heavy was in the years where I was young. At least early double digits.
Abuse spawns abuse which spawns abuse.
So I'm flying blind right now. I haven't found a song to accompany this or even a direction. I just know I have to say certain things that prose, verse or meter will not allow. I'm quite certain that words may fail me as it had failed me at times when I needed them most. In fact, the only thing I can say that I have intact in my very being is my name. I've been stripped from every bit of human need that can be and after a point, every thing left over, whole or tattered, was cut off by myself to ensure that nothing will ever hold me back again. I must move on. I must arrive to that mythical promise land that never is, was, or will be. And yet, I am here. Almost as if the lie I told myself to keep me from buckling and falling down for the last time has came true in some sort of cruel act.
If I can help you understand what I'm going through it would be that scene in Shawshank when the Older Man and Red get out of prison. Anyone would say that it's a good thing to leave, specially if prison is as horrible as it is said. You can even imagine that the freed individual may even laugh and celebrate until something happens and they are sent back. Sometimes, sometimes you realize that your life has been molded by the horror you had endured for so long and not suffering leaves you alien and not understanding what is next. I've knew this day would come when I realized that I'm close. I never believed it, but I am not one to refuse research. I've looked into much and realized that I am, for the lack of a better word, institutionalized in a mind frame that can be dangerous. The natural thing to do is to run out from a situation where the pressure has been consistent only to fall down and die. Just like returning from the depths of the ocean you have to decompress so that you are able to survive without that constant pressure.
This in fact is my constant theme in everything I've written really. Lovecraft is haunted by the insanity of his parents. King by the lack of a father and the need to feel whole. I have lived a lifetimes worth of trauma and in many times continued to run back in to pull others out, even when they pull me back in, only to realize that I've never decompressed. I have not dealt with many things and it all hit one single nerve that is almost so prevalent that I've worn it upon my breast as my letter and raised it as a banner. My biggest weakness and the whole reason I've built enough defenses and protection and layers and inner circle and the ability to leave anything behind as a man would cut a finger off to survive gangrene. The ability to pile on suffering, hatred, mockery, and ridicule as a defense is that it is also my greatest weakness.
If you strip everything from someone. Anything and everything that they find value and joy, not just figuratively but physically, what do you have left?
Me.
You end up with me.
Except the only thing I had left in the worst moment of my life was my name and that was being torn apart as I sat with nothing left. I realized that this was the moment when most people would take their lives and simply be remembered as a sad story. A moral to scare insolent children from venturing out too far. The "you don't want to be like them/their child/him". I was my own after school special. Ha......if you asked me then if death was a mercy I would tell you it wasn't. And yet with nothing left but my name and that being sullied I had not choice but to take a step forward. It didn't even matter the direction. Just that I was moving forward in circles proved to many that I was still swinging. Back then you physically seen me as how I feel then and sometimes today. As someone said that there are moments when I'm beside myself. This is why.
In time, I've realize that I because the joke of the cosmos although my religious self called it God's Joke. And yet there is something in me that I still have today. Something that will strengthen me, push me, drive me, and make me move forward and give me patience if that movement was only inches: Rage. An anger took me. An insolent, disgruntled, and dismayed feeling that some would equate to tossing me off the mountain to see if I would claw up in survival. Well, I survived. I survived when only my rage fed me. I move forward when my anger was the only thing that kept me warm, safe, and in some sick sense positive. In the matter of over a decade I've finally arrived at the point when the act of me breathing is a huge "fuck you". I've made it and I've sacrificed anything and everything to get to this point to prove to others who have abandoned me in worse and have consoled me in mockery that I can do it.
And sadly, I am still angry. I'm angry to the point that it's killing me. I'm angry to the point that it's my primary feeling. I'm angry to the point that every other emotion is derived from anger. This is why I could not keep friends long. This is why I have a shelf life of two years as a lover and even as a father I could not console out of tenderness, but another manifestation of anger. I have done things with my hands that I have nightmares still and yet I can tell you that I done it out of survival, not as an excuse, but as explanation of my sickness. I am angry to the point that every breath in and is chaotic fuel for some change and entropy. It am the embodiment of what Rage can do for you.
And yet, I am very alone and I accept it fully. I know that swinging this weapon takes as much or not more from me than anyone else. That my anger kills me more than you would know. That my introverted ways comes from my own fear of hurting those around me if left too long around them. Like nuclear fuel, I feel spent and need to go away, even now, from those who make me happy because I feel I will in some way harm them. That my very being would bring chaos. It's not something that I take lightly because I've seen it time and time again. It's easier to pull away from others than to rick hurting them. I do what ever possible to make sure that, even if it means leaving them for some times when I'm the most happiest. I fear losing what little I've somehow managed to gather in this life.
And living many times in solitude I have the strength now to say I need others.
If you watch closely as some of you with keen eyes have already seen this anger does make me self sufficient, but there is a deep sorrow that dwells in me. A sorrow that proved the hardest moments that no one is going to help. No one is going to save you. The Calvary does not exist.Superman will not turn the planet back for you. You are nothing but a shrug in time. You are worthless. If someone dropped you as some spare change, they would not bother picking you back up.
I am not worth the trouble.
That is the feeling I wear all the time. I am not worth the trouble and no matter how you show me, tell me, or prove it to me, from what I've seen the majority of life I, as a human being and as someone who is trying to make life a bit more ....I don't know....I constantly feel that I do not have any value in this life, place, moment. I know my blood is valuable and can save lives. Take it. I know that my hair can help small children hide their sickness and offer some chance to normalcy. Take it. I know my body can do good while I'm here and that I can change the tide for others who may need someone to help them. I'm there. I have always been there. I stalk the human dumping grounds and pull people up and move them forward in hopes that they never need me or anyone else again, not using anger, but the belief that they are valuable. It's why I love you, you reading this now....I love you.....I love you so much that I would give what I have to make you feel loved.....so that no one else can feel what I feel, even if my love comes from my anger......or hurt....or sadness that I am not worth anything. Just because I paid a deep price, why must I leave others to suffer the same if I can just give a little bit more.
And that is who I am. Disposable. Unimportant. Worth a shot and then tossed aside. No one has ever came after me when I leave and I don't expect that they will, even if I look back stupidly. I'm used to it really, damn me to what ever hell you can find I'm used to it. I lift these banners high, with what pride I can muster if only to say I have some pride, as worthless as it is. I do not make attachments, because something disposable do not have that privilege. I do not make future plans because I've had moments, razor at hand and then smiling in the sun. I can not make many promises that I can not deliver under a small amount of time, because I am not promised tomorrow. I know that something may happen. I may fall somehow, and as happy as I am now I know real horror and despair that I know that I am more than capable to take my life and know that this works against me just as using anger to exist. I know I do not have a future and not only feel guilt for living this long when others I've lost could have had another day, but I know I'm in overtime. I know when I should have died. I know the moment and the second when I should have not been here to write this. I write this now not to justify my exit, but to let people understand why I struggle now and will probably struggle forever. I do not want to leave you with questions and I do not want any image of myself that is not true.
The truth must be exposed regardless of how it may paint us. And I say now that I am greatly flawed.
I didn't want to leave you thinking it was ever you. Any of you. I just struggle at times with something so much more greater than myself that I do not take our small times together for granted. I cherish it as the starved eat every grain of rice. Small sittings with nothing said may seem dull to you, but I savor them as my last taste ever. I love our meaningless moments and yes, even our misunderstandings and arguments. I'm sorry and I want to make amends quickly because I don't want to leave you in this state.
And so, with all of this I actually realize that my greatest windmill is not just existing or reaching some milestone, but to be happy.
Can you imagine me happy? Well, I have been happy on and off for the past 5 months. It's in a way my last revenge: to actually live well. I know. It's backwards. I'm saying this because if something .....horrible.....happens, it's not because I was "sad" or "depressed' but struggling with surviving. I don't want people to cry that I am gone or that put a sad label on me that I was just hellbent or "lost". I want all of you to understand that I'm fighting to be happy. I'm trying my best to sustain myself not on sadness, worthlessness, or ever rage, but joy. I want you to remember me as someone who did everything in his ability to be happy. Even if I fail miserably. I want you to know that I'm happy now and I'm growing this little ember of hope as if my life depends on it, because it does. I'm gambling everything to make this work and if I fall to far I know I won't be able to get back up. I'm treating this as serious as it feels.
I've actually worked on my smiling muscles to hold a smile for a minute straight.
Really.
You should be proud of me, not sad because I'm going to hold it for two minutes next and then one day I'll forget that I ever had a problem with my face hurting when I finally smiled and then I won't look like I'm having a stroke.
Do you know how sad it is not being able to smile? That actually made me cry.
Well, fuck that. I may feel worthless, but I'm going to make my smile priceless.
Someone made me realize that.
It helped alot.
Alot.
.....
*smiles for a minute*
So yea.....see why I couldn't find a song to go with this?
So, yes. Even if I'm smiling at you, I feel worthless. I feel my anger at a low simmer that can boil over in times. I have the strongest feeling that if someone has to go I will vote myself off before giving others the idea that they should vote someone off. I am disposable and can withstand hell and suffering like no one you meet. And with that damnation I seek a kind of salvation that my weaknesses and fears can only offer me. I help those who need it, without thanks. I give what I can and will go hungry if possible. I rally others forward because I have no inner strength for myself, but all for those who even think about faltering. I cheer the loudest for you because I know what it's like to not only be cheerless, but also boo'ed.I know what it's like to be despised, hated, and feared. I'm a sacrifice that keeps on living and giving. What's not to love?!?!
ha ha....yea.....that's topic for another day. Not today. I don't want to hamper my happy too much. Just enough to let you on, but not today.
Ok.....I'm actually tired. I'm going to nap. Please don't commit me or have another fucking intervention. Spend time with me. Do what you always do and that will keep me happy. Do not do anything out of the ordinary or you will make me feel funny.
I'll leave you with this because.....why not? Hope and all.
"The antidote for 50 enemies is one friend" ~Aristotle
You know who you are.
Thanks.
*goes outside and sit in the sun to fall asleep*
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