Screwing Up Your Checklist of Safety Mechanisms in Order to Prevent Exploding Crazy from Getting on You

It was really an awful day.

My Friday.

Nothing was going my way and all the safety mechanisms that I usually implement somehow just got tossed out the fucking window with all the best of intentions. I woke up close to 11 am instead of my usual 7 to 8 am. Insomnia kept me from falling asleep until 4 am and just the thought of having insomnia made me miserable so that I wasn't rested. I had only time to eat breakfast in a rush rather than sneak in lunch before leaving at 12:30 pm. I ended leaving close to 2 pm instead of getting to the small park by 1:20 pm with my guitar to play in the slight breeze and shade of a tree until 2:30 pm when I would walk over to the Crazy Doc's office in leisure and wait out for my appointment. None of that happened. Instead, I was lead footing it to the pay street parking across the building where I fed quarters into the meter and running at full stupid towards the building with sweat and panic. Upon sitting in the waiting room and not being able to take my choice in seats facing the door and near the plug, I arrived after the other person who I usually beat by 20 minutes sitting in the seat I am so accustomed to.

But that's ok.....I'm here after a two-week hiatus in which my therapist first canceled due to emergency and I canceled a week later due to pulling a ham muscle in a late night run. But that's ok! I was finally here. I was in the office with 10 minutes to stare down the clock with enough time to check internet postings to ensure that the world would not end while I selfishly tried to take the initiative on figuring out how my train wreck fell off the tracks when the dread hit me.....I forgot my black plastic Best Buy travel mug that my son gave me in the late 90's that was filled with sugar, powdered creamer, and jasmine green tea. I would not have anything to calmly sip and clear my throat while I methodically tore myself apart in order to rebuild what was supposed to be a people.

I had nothing but sweat stains, a heavy feeling of nothing going fucking right in the world, and just a paper cup which I least will fill with water so I can keep my throat clear because .......oh no I'm fucking up already....how did I fuck up....I have measures! I have a process that covered three hours of checkpoints that ensure I came in with the best mind for all of this.......

These are the small moments of life where I am reminded that I do not have control over ANYTHING and as great as my plans were they were failures......ALL OF THEM! I honestly questioned if I should leave until the door opened.....and it wasn't my Crazy Doc.....*sigh* Oh, good. I can least panic a little bit...

The door opens again to his bright and encouraging smile.

*meep*

I get up, refill my cup and grab my utility bag of everything important as we make minor talk into the bright and cheery room facing the cemetery.

Fun. I wish I was making this up.

And yet, in the small room where we sat something was happening. This person in minutes, less than five, but more than two, ripped two weeks of self-instilled doubt and dropped it on the floor, almost as you would a toddler who had picked up something incredibly wrong in their clenched hands and set it aside with a minor flourish of someone who knows best. Much like a well-trained beagle, I sat up, handed my paw, rolled over and barked. If anyone who knew me watched they would have sworn that I was somehow disintegrated while passing through the doorway and a much well behaved pod version of myself had sat down on the soft stuffed leather chair and held the throw pillow in his calm hands as a child would hold his teddy.

One question set us off. "How are you?" With at least eight months of training, I opened my mouth and I began to talk about the one thing I hate above everything in the world: myself.

I was fine. Still looking for "legitimate employment", sending resumes with cover letters and references. I had two gigs house sitting. One that went and gone in a single day on the weekend and the other I was prepping for a long stay in one of my favorite places in the world that was not Santa Monica. I visited friends and stayed over, I did household chores and well, there WAS one thing that DID bother me and it DID trigger my CRAZY making me think FOR A SMALL MOMENT that something I had no power over WAS MY FAULT. Ha ha....funny right?

.......it's not my fault, right?

Once again without any hesitation, he took away the wrong thing in my clenched hands and tossed it aside like any patient parent and asked me what happened. In short, someone NOT ME got CRAZY EXPLODED ON THEM, no biggie, right? What did I mean? Well to spare too many details and to keep confidence placed on me what basically happened was a good friend of a friend of mine who I met and is one of the most loveliest of people went through something with their partner where keeping it as generic as crazy can be, they basically dropped a facade of who they were and they showed not only to the people who included myself believe they were the most darling of couples, I mean I was looking forward to their wedding kind of people.....couples who in all truth made you believe IN LOVE itself...but to this friend who not only had a moment of exploding crazy happen to them, but they actually got crazy on them that was not theirs! I mean as if someone sneezed and got "stuff" on you and you somehow believed it was yours.....that kind of thing.

Basically, CRAZY EXPLODED ON THEM .....geesh. I listened and even retold the story with as much freshness as possible. I knew that the moment I heard this it hit me. I mean they seemed like a nice couple. They seemed happy. They seemed as they would marry and be happy and if I was ever so lucky and cashed in my Brownie and Kharma points, I could maybe share a little bit of their happy and hope to anything that I was able to take it with me as some do wedding chachkies. I mean I was going to have a taste of happy as well as maybe cake? But no....this explosion hit them and their partner wasn't who they thought they were and even they questioned themselves to the point that they momentarily freaked out and come to realization that they needed their own Crazy Doc......I mean, sane people amaze me. Like a bandage, they know that they just were inflicted with an injury and they're going to get it healed and taken care of. Me? I festered that thing until I was Patient Zero.

Damn, sane people, you sane.

But not only was I horrified, but for a dread filled second, it hit me like a cosmic bullet as if the universe wanted to tell me in it's cruel and sadistic way, "You left the game where you were our Cosmic Joke and Whipping boy some eight years ago. We were not done with you. You want out? Fine. Be a damn shame if .......they", as the universe slides over a picture of them smiling with joy, "happen to fill your shoes......right.....buddy?"

Yea, I honestly believed this kind and happy person caught MY CRAZY.

Why?

Because I honestly believe that shit like this only happened to me. No, I'm not lying. This is the kind of shit that usually is under my trademark. My brand of insanity where the universe sends me "a friend" and we hang out on reasonable terms until I blink and realize we are romantically involved. How? I don't know, I was busy still being friends, but that's ok. I like them and I developed trust for them. I mean, you're supposed to fall in love with your friend.....I feel in love, right? I think. I know I am....going to? I'm falling in love. They are great! What? I have a type? Sure I do! They don't fill it in anyway physically? That's ok. I love them and I love who they are, right, and even though they are not this or that I find them attractive because it's them! Who cares that everyone I've been involved with differ in almost every way! I like blue/brown/green eyes and they have the most average/thin/curvy/fit body imaginable, yum! And I love their black/brown/red/blue hair and they have breasts like a supermodel/swimsuit model/Dolly Parton/gymnast and they stunning. I love the way she *various random attributes not found* and you know, she just loves the way I this/that/the other thing.

I mean, when you're happy you're happy right?

Until I discover that I'm not in a committed relationship. Or important. Or she moves away because reasons. Or she slept with someone else and is leaving. Or that she's going to rediscover herself because someone who is not Oprah at the moment told her to free the goddess or something. Or they have a serious problem. Or a heavy hand. Or a sharp tongue. Or they just needed something for a certain amount of time and that time is over and I'm not part of their life.

And it's over. Like that. And I have no idea who I am. I became someone more comfortable to her and I lost who I was. I mean, who am I? What am I? When did I lose my identity and why does it happen? All the time. And why does it hurt like this? As if I was torn asunder and I don't have enough to heal over. Because crazy just happens, right? I missed something? I did something wrong? Did I ever choose right? Was it even a choice? How did this happen.....again?

So as I listened to her story, I realized in a flash of horror that maybe, just maybe it was my fault because if I was out there it would have never had happened to them and this would just happen to me. I shook my head then as I shook my head in the small room and I still shake my head, only now I have his kind hand pulling  the wrong thing in my hand and tossing it away. He calmed me and confirmed that it wasn't my fault. It may or may not be this friend's fault but that's not for them to say because they needed to help them as they help me. And he looked at me as said the last thing I can ever imagine anyone telling me.

"You've been making immense progress and even now you're making huge strides, even if you don't see it. I'm proud of you."

Woa...me?

I mean........me?

He said that I didn't have boundaries until a few days weeks ago, not even a month and I had not only learned to make boundaries, but I was keeping safe within them. That even if I got scared of anything happening and that somehow I had a moment of panic from someone else's trauma, that I was working diligently to change that. That he was more than amazed at anyone hard work.

I have been working hard.

And he told me that, we are moving focus and we are going to start to pull apart my lack of trust with everyone and everything and that it's ok. We'll get there. Just be patient and continue to be honest. Then he asked me what did I think about it all.

And the words escaped from my mouth without any reserve, that I'm used to this thing and it's horrible. And I would never want anyone else to endure it and if it was my fault.....

.....it's not your fault.....you just had no boundaries and you were open to give everything you could to anyone and they took advantage of you. Of your trust. Of your kind, he called me kind, nature. He said that I was a good person.

I started to cry. I really want to believe that I'm a good person. And I am. And even if bad things happen to those who I care for or anyone else, it's not my fault. I'm not a magnet. I don't have a dark cloud overhead. I didn't make this happen. This just happens and people develop mechanisms to protect themselves naturally and when it fails and they get hurt they know how to process naturally. I don't have that. He said that I didn't have any of that and the fact that I finally learned what a boundary was after eight months of work and that I instantly implemented it without help proved that I was working hard to heal and once I know how to protect myself I would do so.

And right there.....some guilt disappeared.

We spoke of a few other things. He told me he was proud of me and my effort again to made sure I left with something positive and that not even I could turn a good session into a bad one. And I walked out into the remains of the sunny day, walking towards the truck to look forward to rush hour traffic of the 105. Bumper to bumper of 5 mph travel. Yet I was not stressed about it. I hate traffic and I hate how stressful it was driving. That's why I set up mechanisms to be there ahead of time and plan when I would leave and how. IF traffic wasn't fucked until 9 pm I would have stayed nearby and wait it out. Yet an hour of stress was already prepared for technically if all of my mechanisms succeeded and I wasn't late to all of them. And yet, I drove off in the most uncanny sense of peace.

It felt as if I was given a handful of powerful opiates and a tumbler of gin to kick them in. I was in a state of orgasmic peace or was it the lack of worry, stress, and pain? I still don't know. I was floating. The truck was the extension of my being. Music played in ambiance rather than to mask the moment. I didn't sing the song, I was breathing the song within me as I soon realized that I was going to die if my reaction time was so crappy. Yet we crept and moved at a blissful turtle's pace. We moved east as I was above it all, surrounded by peace. It took me some time to realize the dripping sensation were tears that were streaming from my face onto my arms. I wasn't sad, just relieved. As if ten pounds of hell was removed in a blink. I didn't understand it until the time of writing this. I would not know what it would mean.

Come Sunday, I've already spent more time with friends and I was sitting in introverted space when I realized someone brilliant on Youtube was streaming something I more than enjoyed. Immediately I shook my head and said, no. I would not click. I will be a bother. Or bothered. Or something. I would just ......continue to look for something to occupy my time considering that I have an entire day of nothing. The wall needed to be stared at I guess......and come on, man. What's the harm? I clicked. And I lurked and I watched. And the person who's work I admired shared and spoke and I commented small things that I knew would not be.......did they just respond to me? Was my online moniker just used? I got a response? A conversation? I'd better respond.

......huh......this isn't so bad. I'll just make some comments if I have anything to share.....huh? What? Why am I timed? I'm writing too much.......OHNOIDIDN'TMEANTO......I'll stop.....wait....people are nice here. I'll just take it easy....not be too eager....

And like that, I spent four and a half hours with people watching a stream of a favorite thing by someone who loved my favorite thing and was knowledgeable like so many others and we had a ball. I was communicating and getting laughs and when the time was ending and the main person was leaving we thanked each other and we were social and I didn't feel antisocial. And the person who streamed said he didn't stream usually because they're antisocial with the reasons and the ....HIM AWKWARD AND CRAZY IS MY AWKWARD AND CRAZY.........wow, right? What would I like to hear? Positive things! Here, have some positive things.....things I would want to hear...they're nice and they GAVE ME POSITIVE THINGS TOO...no way! No one here is a shit person? No one is exploding crazy? We're all being cool and supportive and I felt 5 years old again when you would meet your best friends at the playground on the fly and you guys would play a long time back when time felt either so long or not long enough and we all waved like the 5-year-old I felt like and we're all best friends now......

.....what the fuck happened? In the end, I subscribed to three channels, Facebooked a lot, made conversation with this awesome person who's videos played and he like me like people but we have people panic introvert no one is an asshole so we're safe place here and ......who the fuck am I? This shroud of panic, fear and recluse loosened and I was social.....I'm not panicking. I'm not shaking. I want to do it again. I mean....who the hell am I?

And in the dead hours of the night I decided I'm going to a meeting to see someone else who is awesome and maybe meet them, or at least listen to him speak. It's going to be crowded, I know that, but I want......I WANT TO GO? I mean.....I'm counting the days! I'm excited! In a good way, not in I have to do this and not throw up I'll carry my flask with me excited.

I'm not afraid of someone....anyone....running up and exploding crazy on me. It may happen. I may just have it happen, but it may not. I already missed out of Sabbath's goodbye tour, Carlin's last few shows, The Pixies coming and going, and so many plans with friends more than a handful that filled me with terror. Just a few months ago, I was in a dread terror over not being able to go to my Aunt's funeral and on the same day going to a friends birthday event. I was doubled over in pain and sickness and bile then, but....can I go? Can I be ok with this? I have a few weeks till I go, but....I think I'll be ok.

I know, I have no idea!

I'm not scared. I'm not even nervous over writing this! I think I'm ok. I'm ok and I'll work through it. I mean, you'd never know what's going to be a good day until it happens.

*looks at clock*

It's almost 4 am here. I'm going to sleep. I feel sleepy. I feel good. So, thank you for reading this? I don't have an ending. I don't even have anything witty outside of saying.....um.....hi.

Hi.

Hello.

Thanks for reading. Have a good day. Um.....if you need a kind word, here you are. Um.....I bet you're a magnificent person and I hope whatever you are worrying about get resolved. *shrugs* So....yea.....bye.

....hmmmmm.....feeling better about yourself is great on the ego, but it really makes for shitty endings....oh well!

The Echos within the song, tells the story of Two Women

Two women in my life. Both I loved. One tore me apart and left me empty and shattered. The other loved me every way possible until we had to go separate ways.

I feel their echos tonight.

One I realize I still love in a horrifying and disgusting way. She meant/means the world to me, even though she isn't near. She left some time ago and made sure that she salted the ground of her exodus. She made me to doubt myself while I wanted no one but her. She left me feeling used and worthless. She left me feeling like a whore, unworthy of time, effort and love. She left me hating myself to ever having to love her. She was the world to me and in the end she took it with her. In the end she left and made certain that would not even cherish the memory of her without cringing on what she left. I can not even smile at a happy moment between us without feeling choked up at how it ended, or how she ended it.....

.....or what she did. 

And so, I feel alone, empty, shattered and heartbroken. 

If someone was used to being struck strikes another out of habit or reflex is it still pardonable? Was is being accidental still not as hurtful? Is how she cut your heart out not as hurtful or damaging? Or destroying what little faith you have in others just as crippling? Is it pardonable because someone else is better? Or you were just there to pass the time? Or in the end it was all a regret and you were never supposed to be important to her? That .....regret? What hurts more: the injury or the salting the wound?

That wound still healed though. That wound is nasty to look at and hurtful. That wound still causes a twinge of pain when it's cold and it still make you wonder if it will ever function again. It introduces doubt that anyone else so close can harm you again in that way. I guess she wanted to make certain she was the last woman I loved.

....because if that's the case, she's right.

And yet, there is another. I remember her in the emptiness of the night as I drive through the maze of the city. I wonder if the we listened to the song together or if the singer's sweet and loving voice reminds me of her. How she drove to me. How she picked my shattered self from the floor knowing that I receded into the depths of my mind and suffering with no senses on the outside. And yet, she loved me. Tenderly and with meaning. She fed the trust when I didn't want anything ever again. She held me close with a dedication that I should not cause more harm to myself that someone has already committed upon me. She remained there slowly feeding small morsels of joy and kindness into a selfish and pain creature who wanted nothing more than to die of shame of needing another. She loved me and pulled me close because she knew I could not make the words come out from such a hideous wound. She offered compassion and understanding even though she knew I would stumble and fall. 

I remember asking her why is she even trying. Why is she wasting her time with me. She told me that I would understand one day and that day I would remember her. That she was simply doing what someone has done for her and in the end isn't that enough?

I also feel warm, loved, cared for and inspired. 

Isn't it?

And so, I feel alone, empty, shattered and heartbroken. 

I also feel warm, loved, cared for and inspired. 

One case I fear getting close to any one for fear of doing what she had done to me in the guise of hurting her and leaving me needing someone who crushed my heart and made sure she was the last woman in my life. In the other I feel one can only hold a torch for so long without lighting yourself on fire and at that point you deserve to be on fire. So drop that shit and reach out in pain and fear and love anyways. Make sure she isn't the last one in my life and to make certain that I make sure that the salted earth left behind blooms brighter than before. 

So I feel alone, empty and heartbroken. I also feel warm, loved, cared for and inspired.

Above all I feel alive now and that's all I need.

Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Eightteen – Let It Loose

He laughed bitterly. She could only watch him and knew that reaching out to him would be a slap in his face. She could understand why he didn't like to be touched. You had to let others get close enough to touch you and every touch he had faced ended up in some sort of slap. You either began to associate touch with pain or you consider it part of love's by product. A caring caress can always become a slap. you just had to have some faith on what you were getting. And yet, he lost all faith in touch also.

This was not going to be easy. This was not going to be clean either.

Sitting in the sunny room with bird song filling the air, she allowed him to recollect himself before moving on. She knew well enough that he would not run from anything asked, yet it was very easy to shut him off. He thought so much that if he kept on the same thoughts he would only continue on into the same answers he arrived to and would lead him down the same thought patterns. She needed to disrupt that. She needed to provoke him a bit more and in the right way, and yet she knew that he was already used to the cause and effects of it all. He thought too much for these situations.

She needed to change the subject just enough to make him change directions without him knowing.

She spoke first, "You look good."

His eyes shot up to meet hers in a second before they looked away. She noticed that he hadn't looked at her directly until now. She did have the advantage, but she didn't think she would need to use it. There was some mixture of anger and confusion in his eyes. It could be of the situation or perhaps it was something he was not ready to hear from her.

He mumbled some sort of response.

"What?"

"......"

"I can't hear you."

"....ank yo......"

She gave him a look back. She hated how he used mumbling as a means of creating distance.

"I mean it. You really do look good. You really kept up through out the years."

He laughed joylessly, "You should have seen me just a few months ago."

"Oh? Why?"

"I was in bad shape. I've lost alot and gotten stronger, but I was a real mess then."

"The injury?"

"Yea."

This isn't working. "I'm sorry, I would have like to gotten a hold of you...."

Anger this time. Almost hatred. This time the flash was brilliant and furious.

"You know what I mean."

"Yea......I guess......umm......yea....you would have gotten back to me, I guess. I don't think I would have made it easy though."

There, an opening.

"Oh, why is that?"

"I shut myself down a while back. Realized that people were looking for me or they found me though social media and I didn't want people to find me."

"Why?"

He looked up this time, a bit more annoyed, but not as angry. As if he had gotten used to something and realized no one was to blame.

Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger

Some face I'll never see no more, wrong

"That was another life. I'm not that person anymore."

"You've done this before?"

"Yea.....I've lived at least three....maybe four lives so far."

"What do you mean? What exactly is living another life."

He took in a deep breath and his shoulders loosened a bit. He sat back in his chair and thought about what he was going to say.

"I've lived really extreme moments that somehow don't connect with each other. One second I'm married with children, struggling with making ends meet in a marriage that is not the healthiest and another second I'm this guy with all this free time, too much to really contemplate, trying to play catch up to things."

"Catch up?"

"Catch up. I've left school and started life early. I had some sort of an idea in mind, but I had no idea how that idea had not chance. I mean, I call it the young and stupid age. It's romantic, poetic and very.....devastating."

"How?" Keep talking.

"I was young. I was in love. I wanted to make things better and had an ideal on what things should be. It was all very Romantic, as in Shelly and Keats sort of way, not flowers and hearts kind of crap. I set out into life with my heart on my sleeve and a dream to make the world a better place."

"Didn't end up that way, huh?" She poured him some more tea.

He laughed bitterly again, "No.....no in any way. I look back now and I realize that I was very innocent and trusting. I believed that life would take care of me. I had no defenses against things. It was like tossing a baby down the mountain and forcing it to survive. I mean......life had a mean sot of way of making you adapt. You either build up defenses quickly or it made you it's bitch before you were tossed aside."

"You were really that innocent?"

He looked at her again, this time it was sadness. "Come on, you remember when we met. You couldn't believe how naive I was then. You laughed at how 'sweet' I was back then and how life didn't shake that out of me."

"Did it?"

"Like a British nanny."

"Ewwww....."

"You asked."

They stared at each other and started laughing. This time his laughter was genuine and the real deal. She would have to make him laugh more to get closer.

"You were so sweet when I met you. You still are."

"I don't feel sweet. I feel nothing like sweet."

"Oh really, what do you feel like?"

"I feel like I'm a walking monster. I feel too big to fit in and to barbarous to be left alone."

"You are no such thing! Who the hell told you that?"

"No one, or at least not to my face. After a while I just......stopped caring about being kind and nice. After a while I just wanted to be left alone. Just left be. I had enough of people and I would have thought they had enough of me."

"Didn't work that way, did it?"

"Being left alone? No.....thanks to Ann Rice and that kind of shit, if someone is by themselves they must bee brooding and brooding is sexy and you must throw yourself at that like some mindless slug."

"Sounds like twilight....."

"Don't it? I mean, I gotten to a point when I realize I didn't fit with people around me anymore. I was the man out. I mean, out of all things I wanted to blend in and just fade away and every time I get shoved into some sort of spotlight." He started to sing, "One of these things is not like the other..."

They laughed again.

"Man, after a while I felt out of place and out of time. I didn't fit with everyone around me. And that always hung on my head. The last thing you want as an introvert was attention."

"You were never an introvert when I knew you."

"You were different. you made me comfortable in my own skin. You made me forget that I had responsibilities and demands and people trying to get a hold of me just to tell me off. I mean, you made me feel as if I was just another human being. I felt normal around you."

"Good, you deserve to feel normal."

"Yea, I think I stopped feeling normal after you. Then after I was just shoved out into the spotlight and I was the monkey on stage. People thought I knew something. People started to ask me what life was as if I was the wise man on the mountain. Ha.....almost fell or it too until I realize that people just wanted to know a kook instead of needing advice. They wanted someone to confess to, fix them up just enough to get them to the next shitty moment they would make themselves go to. They wanted to tell someone how fucked up they are just to be happy enough to keep getting fucked up. I mean.....sickening."

"I bet."

"And of course that made me a magnet for broken people."

"Broken people?"

"Broken people. People who lived some sort of trauma and were just trying to live or worse, looking for someone to dump their shit on. I'm a perfect person somehow since I'm SO successful." He waved his arms sarcastically. "People want to tell you their abuse. Their shitty moments to just unload. Few people want to make life better, just want to tell someone for some special treatment or kindness. Tell me things that I didn't need to hear as if just talking to me would make them better."

"They didn't help, right?"

"No, but if I realized that they can change something. Do something to make things better, then they would just do the same thing over and over again. Ha.....you know what is someones natural response to someone they admire?"

She nodded. "Sleep with them."

"EXACTLY!" His response echoed in the room and scared the birds outside into silence. He went on. If I handed to you a pill bottle prescribed just to you to cure your illness, just easy things to help. I'm not talking a miracle pill or years of therapy shoved in a pill. I mean little advice and outlook that most people ask for and when they get it.....", he shook his head. "I mean, little things such as you should stop 'dating cause there is a pattern of bad people in your life' kind of stuff. Well, imagine giving that to them and then seeing them just start rubbing the bottle against themselves to get off."

"Masturbating with it?"

"Basically. You would start saying, 'what's wrong with you? Take the pill. Stop rubbing it against you.', but people don't want to be strong. They want to fuck someone who is strong. People don't want to be smart, they want to fuck smart. People don't want to be sane or calm, or what ever it is you are missing. You want to get off and then go out with it and marry it and wonder why you are still sick and now why you are being abused by the bottle?! People would not even take the medicine if you made it a miracle drug. Too hard. How they hell will they ever get through their hell and make life better?"

"That's a little unfair."

"It's not when you are the bottle. Cause now you are part of their sickness and you can just focus on your own. Both your crazies interact with each other and you are either getting hit by both or you are walking on eggs to make sure you don't trigger them both. I mean, I am in no way sane or healthy  in any way, but I know that I'm working on it. I'm trying to make things better so that I can...."

He trailed off.

"So that you can?"

He took a moment of time before he spoke again. "You know what? I don't know. Before I wanted to make things better for me so that I can find someone. then I just wanted to be a better father. Now I just want peace of mind. I want to fall asleep and stay asleep. I want to never cause harm or any sort of shit. I am constantly walking around as if I'm this walking toxic waste that needs to be watched for unless people around me get sick. I want to feel normal for once. I want to sit down and just have no one notice me. I want to lose myself in a crowd and just not exist anymore. Forget finding someone..."

"You want to find someone?"

He looked up hurt this time. "Well, you're not available, right?"

The comment hurt him more than it could ever hurt her. He meant it that way.

Who's that woman on your arm?

All dressed up to do you harm

"You shouldn't be alone."

"Not everyone was like you."

"No......sad right?"

He started to tear up just a bit again. "Yea, tell me about it. You were great. You are still great. You're...."

She reached out to him this time and he let her take his hand before taking it back. "Sorry, but I don't want to get used to it."

"Touching you?"

"Yea.....that and being touched. It's too personal now."

"Why?"

He gotten a hold of himself and forced a calm voice forward. "You only have two things that you can control in the end. You have your name and you have your personal space. They can still take your personal, but you can fight them off. Same with your name except that your name has a way of defending itself if you let it. Like that koan that I read once about that monk accused of fathering a child with his grocer. You know it?"

"Yes. You gave me the book, remember."

He did smile. "Well, the main thing is if you just keep doing what you know if right you will get redeemed one way or another, but it's not your name that you redeem, but people realizing that you were shitted on. If you just don't care and move on you can. It's like calling someone something they are not......well, outside of a pedophile or rapist. Some things you can work through. I guess the others you can you just have to find away and place to redeem...."

"Focus."

"Yea....well, people can usually tell if you are or are not something if they really want to know, but you honestly have to believe that things will be right and you have to believe you never acted in a bad way or in the end you'll end up believing that you did do it. Either way a clean conscious clear all."

"Still doesn't mean that you don't live through hell."

"Yea, that's certain. You will still live through hell, but as long as you believe in yourself you can tolerate it a bit more. I've lived that a few times. It's nothing I would like others to live through, but it's one fucking hard crucible to live through."

"You lived through it, huh?"

"Yea.....black sheep. Worst in the family. Stupid. Worthless. The only thing I can say is that after a point you actually see that you survived the moment when others realize that you were never in any harm. I mean, I came from the stupid kid who thrown away his measly, worthless life to being someone who you can talk to about anything. And yet, ...."

"Yet?"

"And yet, I'm surrounded by people who still like to remind me of that hell. As if trying to take me down a peg. As if I didn't live enough shit already. As if I need to suffer more cause I'm outspoken and ever more militant now than then. I know I've done stupid things and I don't hide from it, but hell.....you'd think I made it and I must be doing some good. I'm not asking for a cookies, not after what I've done. but shit.....how about not spitting at me anymore?"

He dropped his head on the table in a thump and then thumped it again.

Let it loose, yeah, let it loose, let it loose

Let it loose, let it all come down

"Don't do that."

"Or"

"I'm going to do this." She ran her finger on his hair. "You grew it out."

"Twice now." He didn't move.

"Twice. Hmmmmmm......I like it wild."

"Too much to deal with. I just hide it under a hat until I can tie it down and deal with it."

"You and your hair. Just wild things that should not be tied down."

They laughed again and he picked his head up. "Can I get that on a prescription, Doc?"

"Of course."

They laughed harder until the joke left them calm once more.

"You let me touch you."

"I trust you. I always had."

"Took me years too."

"Yea, well. I always figured you were out of my league."

They continued on like this for a small moment. Small flirtatious talk that was harmless and yet walking around the elephant in the room. The one that made him not want to realize no matter how much it bothered him. The moment he did this would be over and he could never talk to her again. That elephant just sat in the room and he ignored it as much as he could. In the end, he shook his head and drank some of his cold tea.

"Cold."

"It's been a few hours. Want me..."

"Nah...." He drank it all at once. "I want to see if we can finish this. Ok?"

She looked up and nodded with a smile. "Ok."

He took in a deep breath, let it out and asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Touch."

"Ok.....touch. What about it?"

"Why are you so guarded? What made you this way?"

"......I guess it was you."

"Oh?" She looked surprised.

"Yea.....not in that way. I actually had some time to think about it.You were really good. Trusting. Loving and kind. I got used to that. You never forced and issue or made me swallow things or even made me feel bad. You were just there. You were just there and with this unlimited amount of patience imaginable. I mean, we hung out like thieves for a year or so. Movies, book stores, anywhere we can cause trouble or even play at. And you just wore me down. You just made me feel that you were always going to be there. You made me feel that life was going to be normal. I mean, you always gave me the last smoke and even told me it was bad for me."

"It is you, know."

" And you still gave it to me anyways. Then that one time on the couch just......wow."

And I'm hip to what she'll do

Give her just about a month or two

He was speaking of a moment watching SNL before it went down hill on her couch. They ate their fill and sat on the couch comfortably watching. By the time the news came on she had her head in his lap and he was stroking her hair. She giggled and looked up as he looked towards her and said, "This took a long time." He smile and laugh as she joined in. And like that they were a couple. Their time would be short, but sweet just like the kiss they shared that moment. They kept watching and sharing the warm moment. It was a different calm before the storm. It was a moment when they realize that they would share a bed and Sundays with the paper between them, late night movie runs to remote video stores or to small theaters that had a midnight showing of a flick that was word of mouth and had no help from any social media. It was organic and pure and she knew that he was apprehensive and almost gun shy. In that moment, he asked her what did she mean only to be hushed as it got good, but she would answer him. It wasn't to find a bedmate or a fling, but she wanted something that she valued and knew she would always keep even after it was over and she moved to colder climates not to be seen again.

"I wanted to win your heart, not just you."

She delivers right on time, I can't resist a corny line

But take the shine right off your shoes

"Well, not everyone was like you. You lifted that bar high, but I think that is what done me in. Everyone else was.....settling in a way. So after a while I just tried and well, I realize that if I didn't trust someone it wasn't worth it.I mean, we were great friends and I loved that alot, but not everyone who is a great friend is made to be a lover. There is something missing that just makes things worse. So after a while I just stopped sleeping with friends. You were....different."

"Yea.....you have to be really stable to do that."

"Yea.....well. It's also rare. If anything I tried it a while back and I have to say that it's like finding a diamond inside an opal rare. No one is going to believe you and no one wants to. I think back to it and I realized we were together for ....three years? Most of that time we just hung out. We were friends for most of it and that was not lost. It made us stronger, but you never held me back. I mean I spoke to you about who I was seeing and whatever and you were just supportive and amazing. You let me vent and cheered me up. You understood my crazy and you help me realize it may not be me. Not at that moment, but after some time I realize that you made me feel whole without any motives."

She just smiled and nodded.

Some things, well, I can't refuse

One of them, one of them the bedroom blues

"And you are probably one of the fewest relationships that ever was healthy. I mean, you were great and sadly not everyone out there was just as great. You didn't make me feel you were out for me or that you wanted me in any way outside of making me feel awesome. And that stayed with me. You were no fling. I was not a masturbatory device to get you off. Sex was more than sex. It was this powerful connection. Even moments where we just .....you know...." She smiled bigger. "....it just still safe and warm even then. I mean, I didn't even feel that when I was married."

"Oh come on!"

"Ok......I didn't feel it enough when I was.You made me feel safe. Even when we went on our ways we left in a good way. It was just time and space until we met up again."

"I'll meet you in the middle."

"Yea.....", his mood was changing quickly.

She was on it, "So that just made things worse with others?"

"Yea.....it was just either finding soul mates, fun for the time, people bouncing from person to person, or just short flings masked like relationships. I mean, that and the lying just made me sick. I mean, people are fucking children. You never have a conversation on a real level unless it's to break up. Not even, 'hey I'm having some issues' or anything else. If anything I just played House with them and when snack time was here or someone else was wanting to play, I was out. I was the guy making them feel better about themselves or I was their monkey wrench until they either broke up and I was a band aid or some other guy joined in. I've always been the other guy! I mean, I have been the guy to cheat with. Not even the one to keep, but the one to cheat with. It's .....sickening. I mean one girl just straight out made me feel like whore. Cheap and worthless. I mean I was either there or not. And in the end, she "broke up" with me on social media as if that wasn't insulting enough. That one was the last fucking straw! I just said, 'you know what? I'm already heavy, I feel like I'm worthless and used, and I don't see any way of healing so that I can even be naked with anyone anyways.....why the fuck do I care any more?' That's was the final coffin nail. I mean there is only so much shit you can take."

Bit off more than I can chew

And I knew, yeah, I knew what it was leading to

Silence hung think for a moment. He leaned back and looked up, almost as if he was questioning the gods above in hopes of forcing an end to the silence. He reached up and slid his hands up to his hair only to find it tight and not giving. Too tight for him. He started to pull of the bands that held his braid and quickly, with nimble trained fingers, he loosened the braid and the hair at the scalp. He then dug his finger deep into his scalp and pulled tightly and let out a sigh of relief. He moved his fingers to along his head and repeated tightening and sighing. He did so until the hair fell across his face hiding his red eyes from her sigh. He dropped his hands to his lap and let out another sigh. She tried to speak, but was silenced with a raised hand that turned to a finger motioning for a minute longer. He took in a deep breath and screamed loudly, still looking up through the ceiling.

Let it all come down tonight

Keep those tears hid out of sight, yeah

He continued.

"Your bed was the last bed I've ever slept well in."

"I'm sorry."

"Yea....well.....it's not your fault. It never was. I've made peace with that. I made peace with that when I was making my way out."

"You keep saying that. You keep saying you were on your 'way out'. What do you mean?"

"Not now....I can't talk about it now. I've already talked enough about it. About losing you and not finding anyone even close.....well.....now I know it was never close. But I can't talk about it now."

"When?"

"Soon. I promise. Soon."

"Time and space", she asked.

"Time and space", he responded pulling his hair back into a loose tail to get it out of his face. She let it go. She knew he kept his promises.

Oh, yeah, in the bar you're getting drunk

Oh, yeah, yeah, I ain't in love

"So.....I just drank. Alcohol is a solution or at least it was for those with nothing to lose. I drank and I drank enough to forget. I drank enough to function and to get me through. I've been drinking hard for over 10 years. It's not a good way to end things or a happy one and it's never going to be an after school special, but it helped. I trained my body to hit and be hit and I drank. After a while I could not do it anymore so I started to take painkillers also. Just enough to balance it out. To numb me fully and to make me functional. No one either cared or I made sure to never let them make it an issue. I drank, took painkillers and functioned. Day in and day out. I needed to function. I needed to continue. I needed to survive. I just gave up on things that would hold me back in any ways. I knew that after a while it had to be me. I had to be either a magnet that pulled shit towards me or it was coming from me so I just pulled away from others unless I was needed. Every one love a hero and everyone......every FUCKING one likes a happy ending even though you know tomorrow is a new day and nothing was solved, no work was done to make things change, or serious therapy want taken to make them better. There was a fucking musical number with Disney effects and fucking rainbows and life returned to shit the next day. They never show the nest day, but the next day made everything cheap, worthless and disposable as I felt. Because people don't believe in peace, harmony, and life being made better, just give them a happy ending and a big production to let them know they should just shut up and keep suffering until prince asshole rides up or princess huge tits devotes her life to you. People......people just want to suffer......."

I ain't in luck, oh, no, no, no

Hide the switch and shut the light

"Do you really feel that way?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. I just know that I was stuck in hell and there was not out, despite of whatever I tried. I needed that out. I needed to way of getting out and my choices were just getting thin."

"What did you do?"

"Me? Well, not to give too much to it I decided to leave. I decided that I was finally on my way out, but I didn't want to end it like others did."

"Others?"

"Not now....soon. Promise."

"Ok."

"I wanted to see how far I can get out if I just death marched it. If I just made a run for it. If I forced my way out of Truman's world for the door. How much would the world change and who would get in my fucking way. Like a fantasy of mine I had for years. Making my way out to the airport near the ocean to a leaving plane, but I had to get away.....the world would chase me down, ask me to stop, beg me to stop, people will get sick and hurt, and leave and fall apart and I would just death march it. I would either make it or die trying. And if I would not make it there I would throw the strays I dragged with me and throw them to the exit. As long as someone got out. Someone was getting out and I wanted to show the fucking hypocrisy that kept me, I knew kept me behind. So I did everything to get the fuck out, even to the point where I called people out and told them that I was beyond patient and I didn't know how long I can remain patient. I know that now. When you give up on everything you finally choose how to leave the world can not hold you back. So I bet my life against what was against me. I had nothing to fucking loose."

"And....."

"I won. I got out."

"Good?"

"Yea, but then I realized that I finally got out and it was for what? I was willing to 'walk down the street' and to get to a point in life where there was more hell. I mean, it was as if Truman finally got out of that room and realized that his way out was crossing the Himalayas. Nope, happy endings made things happy. Ignore the man who lived his entire life in a Skinner Box. He's ok! No abuse or trauma to deal with. All resolved and the cartoon ending made it so. Not shit afterwards. All absolves, scapegoat killed, and notes passed to Wailing Wall and done. Instead I finally made it through realizing that that not only took all my fight, but I didn't want to go on. I still had to construct a life and that scared me the most. I wanted not to make it cause then I would be remembered as they guy who died trying and because a Martyr for High Hopes, Disney movie in the works with happy ending included.......fuck....I was on my way out and I actually won. Who was prepared for that, cause I wasn't."

"And?"

He looked over and smiled at her.

"And I end it here."

"But you are so close."

"No.....I'm not. I'm no where close, because I already written how it ends and I knew I was missing this also."

"You're breaking the 4th wall again...."

"Well, that I am and I am going to devastate it in the end too. But for now, I have to finish going. There are things to do and I can't sit here anymore speaking to you."

"Why can't you?"

"I can only ignore the elephant so long before I go mad or I scream at the elephant. You already know that about me."

"Ok. You are coming back to finish this?" As if she needed to ask.

"Promise. I promise I will."

She smile that smile that always haunted him. That smile that he only caught glimpses of in others for a small moments.

Yeah, right off your shoes

Carryin', carryin' the bedroom blues

....

He looked up from the old lap top and sighed heavily. How he missed her.

"Silly creature indeed."

Won't you shut it? Yeah

Let it all come down tonight

Let it loose, let it loose, yeah, yeah

Let it loose, let it all come down

Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Seventeen – Sopa de Cavalo Cansado or How Not to Tenderize your Dead Horse

There is a special place in Hell that is made for me and for me only.

A hell that seems to haunt me today, even now, as I relive the past for clues that never were and hunches that do not exist.

I'm getting ahead of myself here. I'll explain this once more even though it feels I've explained this so many times already......hence my hell.

I always feel that I've missed my calling at times, since I'm usually a marvel at the details. Things that help me wonder for hours that a small question can usually answer. For example, while running I reached a set of houses that had a giant riding mower cutting that grass. Most people would have not payed any mind, but automatically I told myself that that mower was very large and that it would make no sense to drag it around to site to site. It had to have some place to leave it when not working and by the look of the property it looked like that there was not suitable place unless they occupied one of the small garages to place this any any other landscaping equipment. Mind you, I questioned not because I wanted to find where it was or even ask the people what they did with it since it would automatically paint me as someone with an interest in the mower. It was a puzzle that I wanted to answer and it kept my mind sharp.

It wasn't until yesterday when I saw one of those giant pickups with the double tires in the rear with a massive incline in the alley. That answered my question and at the same time it fueled more. Not to ask or to investigate, but to simply assume on what information I can gather while running by for 15 seconds.

That is how my mind works. To some that would be exhausting and yes, there are moment in the darkness of predawn where I am up hunting down google wondering if Stephen King's monster in It was in any way Lovecraftian only to discover a few essays and vast information on youtube. I've been woken up from the slumber of a dead sleep only to drag myself in front of a computer to find out a random thought here and there only to look up and realize dawn had arrived and left.

Mind you, all of this is quite brilliant and it often times fuel amazing conversations with people who out of rudeness and a lack of "hallo" I've simply continued our last conversation with a few more thoughts and analysis that I've had the chance to reflect on. To say I'm a spur of the moment thinker is to say that turtles are excellent sprinters. I may take actions in a heart beat and some may even complain that I move faster than most, but within my head I often am reliving conversations had and moments that simply baffle me.

What's my point?

Getting there.

I'm going to start showing the links to this chained thought, so please hold on and remember that I'm working to the end even though you may feel that I am simply waxing on poetically or painting a scene. I'm working hard at completing the thought so that it can be put to rest and allow my mind to clear if only for a moment.

Try to follow along.

I can't recall from where or want to really, seeing that I will investigate why I focus on one link and not the whole chain or at least that is what I will say now, there is a mystique about the idea of a mix tape. I know I am dating myself a wee bit, but there was a time when music was hard to get hold of and getting music was an amazing thing even if you could just drop a few songs on a CD and burn them. So in my time on this planet and about, I've made a few if only for my enjoyment and since the creation of the MP3 we can say that this have mutated to the playlist and some sort of cloud, is it? Either way it was meaningful to get a CD from someone. To discover new music or a band that was just starting to bud. Music is a personal expression and sometimes just getting a batch of music means so much.

And yet, I have never equated it to getting flowers or candy. Not only due to my gender, but I've always been someone to share things I've always felt were great. I'm the person who offers everyone in the room a bite of what is tasty even if I only got a bite from the experience. I'm one to promote the qualities of others and to boast the greatness of all things not me. I've always been a giver and connect the act of giving with good feelings and even joy. And yet, I'm not one to see others giving to me and see it as anything. I'm usually one to say 'no thank you' or 'I'm good, thanks' and yet I've been told that sometimes you have to accept things if only to offer the person joy and appreciation. I understand that but something sick and twisted in my life had me equate keeping things with loosing them or watching them become destroyed so if I ever get something of value I either give it away in order to allow it a chance to survive or even protect it with my life, but only for things that I'm able to carry out of a fire in an undaunted hand while dragging someone with the other. I don't put importance to things because when someone can that something you find joy in and destroy it in front of you to see you suffer you wither learn not to place joy in things or to hide that joy from the world in fear of someone finding it and destroying it.

I know. Sick and twisted, no?

So I try not to accept things and offer much thanks and kindness. That kind of shit sticks to you.

And yet......mix tape.

.........

There are few people in my life that had honestly either changed me or tried to make that attempt to a better person or who loved me in some sort of way that was not completely destructive to either of us. I'm one to say that in the mix of psychopaths and narcissists who have wrecked my life in their ways, I'm met people....women who have fostered some hope and kindness in my heart. Their leaving for one reason or another has in many ways inspired me to take more steps in life and at the same time caused an ache in my heart that only strong bourbon and the blues can relieve. I used to cut them out of my mind in the past and deal with moments that they would show up time to time in my dreams and thoughts. They haunt my mind and inspire my imagination as Muses lost and desires unrelieved. I use them as a bar at times when wondering who is worth my time and other times they are the vexing torment that has me shake my enraged fist at a world who had taken them away from me,even if I can understand why. When someone arrives that this place I can not remember their flaws nor recall what difficulties they may have offered. They become more myth than human at times and yet I know that I have to detach myself from this in order to have any future at all.

So when I hear that some people give these items as a show of affection and even desire I panic. I remember and look back and I even pull apart my things to that I can hold them or in this case the CD. Holding it now in my hand it baffles me now on how stupid or oblivious I can be to someone. Looking at the writing on each song, times, titles and artist as well as a small bit on how I should think of this just hurts me now in the same way a Blues Man would relive a moment of pain to inspire numerous songs that still do not reach bottom the well of despair in their heart. To hear B.B. King moan or John Lee Hooker literally weep out words that convey so much agony only those who live such a moment can look up and realize someone else feels what I can not set to words or music.

Beware of Artists for they blend with all of us.

Ha.....sorry....I'm feeling this now.

So to say that I loved this girl is saying so little. So little to the point that I've told myself no matter what I must keep my distance if only to save the the trouble of my chaotic life. I still see myself as a source of chaos now and carefully limit my time with people I care most now if fear that I may cause them some sort of anguish. I would rather cause myself pain that any one else. So you can see why I'm apprehensive on why I spend time with others and who.

Speaking to a friend, who I shall call The Philosophical Punk, I've always remarked that she had a harem, or to say a collection of men who follow her about in with puppy dog eyes and unsettling photos of their genitalia on hand. We've traded horror stories and laugh at the blatant actions of those who would gather her attention even though much of the time they are either seeking an ideal she can/won't supply or are simply sub par to her, i.e. 'as soon as I get out of this ankle bracelet I'll move near you'. Something not to be enjoyed even if it provides suitable laughs. And yet, she has on quite amount of times shown that I have a 'sidekick'  of sort. Not a harem in comparison of her minion count, but a female sidekick that may change actresses but usually is an active role. At some point I can usually shrug it off, saying that sometimes you get paired with someone from work or is just someone to pass the time here and there and to go for a meal, but to say that this has no merit is to lie, even if there is nothing I may want from them than a meal mate and someone to hold an intelligent conversation.

And yet, there is always a sidekick. If not one there is usually someone who I can confide enough to have a moment respite in my chaotic life. Someone who I can have coffee with, talk about the thoughts of the day or even laugh with. So there is a need, even if I do not look for these people. I can even think if I placed a call and gathered them together I can. They are not minions or people who would do something for me, but individuals who I in some part adore and care about as one would a sister. I've even told some that I would never want to sleep with them if only to tell them that I'm pulling myself out of any race that others may stubble over others in desire for their attention. I'm not one to fight for someone's time and have always seen it as what little I can get is more than enough. So I'm not collecting people in the traditional sense especially my strays are something all together different.

But that's for another day.

So spending my time with someone .....anyone is not a huge thing for me. It's a treat and I enjoy it, even if we are too busy chewing to talk. It's just someone to take my mind off my life. Someone to share a kind moment. Someone who I don't expect to be there in my life. If anything it's Me featuring Them. Just something that I'm not concerned with outside of just a moment. Are they unattractive? No. Do they not have qualities that I would find attractive or even desirable? Sure they do. I truth I just don't see myself as anyone/thing worth the time of others. Yes, I know. Sick and twisted, but this is what I'm dealing with. I'm at the point where I figure out that people like me enough to get near me, but I'm not aware that I am worth their time in the long run. Especially when I've look back and see my relationships never made it past the two year mark. There is something faulty in this and I'm now at the point that it has to be me. So I am not one to chance at losing a friend for a chance of a bed mate anymore.

I've already lost too many brilliant people I could have had as friends who I lost as a lover. In the end, I have to say it's me somehow. And that is what my mind had been doing. Something that the Philosopher Punk, calls something between masochistic and hateful circular thought where I am to blame no matter what. I call it regathering the evidence and trying to figure out what was. Mentally returning to Cold Cases and trying to see if new thoughts and views offer any new insight that I may have missed. Reliving history long gone for the sake of never having to relive it again. Mentally pulling and searching the wreckage of  the downed moments, searching through fields and crevices for what is missing and what never was to rebuild it over and over and over again only to realize it is never enough. I can find an answer but it is never enough nor is it the answer I've been looking for.

The last one who had left my hear was just 5 years ago. I still think about her still and wonder, but never one question. No matter how I put it out of mind, I somehow rush back and rebuild it all even though I am more than tired of this, I still obsessively look thought it to realize what was.

But never .......

And I see it all and think that I could have done something different and could have somehow salvaged or even made it better. That I for some reason ended up overlooking something and this something is the mix tape. Perhaps, mayhaps I could have changed things I could have made things better for both of us. I could have somehow salvaged enough of us so that I would not be haunted by her or her absence. That I could have only made things better and maybe even find that one thing in me tha is of fault and that I can repair so that I do not feel that I am at at fault and I am to blame. If I only listened to that mix tape more or studied it longer or even....

Stop it.....

If I can not solve this puzzle how am I going to live with myself and allow myself to sleep and rest and move on. It's my fault somehow and unless I find out how or why......

Yes......ask it.....ask it the right way.....

.....why it's my fault....

No, but you are close....a little more.

Why it's my fault?

Come on, one more time.....

Why is it .....

No....don't run from it. Face it.

......my fault.......

Come on. Say it all.

......why is it my fault? Why is it my fault?

There you go.....answer that one. Answer the one that you always turn blind eyes to.

........ok.

.....I'm doing all of this to find a solution. I want to know why I screwed it up, but in truth I'm just .....hurting myself. I'm tearing myself apart in hopes that I can make amends for making someone feel unloved.

Keep going.

To make them feel that I've hurt someone. So cause someone to feel unwanted and unneeded. To make them feel like I was made to feel. Unwanted, unneeded, a hindrance and someone to blame. I would even love them if I didn't because it's a horrible feeling that I can....

No, not you.....stop it....you didn't do it and you never done it.


.....I'm afraid of making anyone feel like how I felt. That feeling of hurt and worthlessness. That abusive feeling of nothingness that equates all the problems to.......

Come on. Say it.

.....to me. That it's my fault. That I somehow made things worse and believe that I am to blame for everything. That I am so willing to accept blame and swallow all the blame to make things right. And that is my problem. I automatically blame myself...because...

....watch it......don't do that.....

....it's my fau...

STOP IT.

......I'm afraid it may be me?

All of it.

I'm afraid that I'm to blame no matter what. That in truth I'm only responsible for my actions and in truth I can only be responsible for my actions.

There.

.....but if I can somehow....

WHAT? You can control the actions of others over what you have done? NO, it does not work that way. You are making your self worse than you ever were. It's not your fault. And if it was, so what? That does not make anyone else less responsible. You did everything right and you even try harder than anyone else. If no one can see that than what good are they?

......but I.....

Feel better if its your fault? Really? How is that? Where is the math attached to that?

.....

You are only digging in an area that has been dug and nothing may come out of it. There is no answers there. You know this.THINK. What do you tell others. Use that now.

.......*sigh* Yea......I tell others that if someone wants your attention they will cross Hell and back if only to see you for 5 minutes. And when someone does not want anything to do with you they will disappear off the face of the world.

Yea...

Yea. Yeah. In the end I'm beating up a dead horse and I'm the horse. There is no use and there is nothing wrong with me outside that I think there is something wrong with me. I mean, there has been people I could not get rid of nor could I even shake. Some people hunt me down today and I do what ever I can not make sure they can't get to me. At the same time I know others who are able to walk off. And .....that's ok. It's ok if I was never worth the time. I'm not worth their time as much as in truth they were never worth mine.

If somethings fall apart it's not just me. I try to make things better, but it's not all on me.

It's not.

And here is where I stop trying. Because I'm just finding new ways of kicking myself down when others just run off and keep going. Some just to cause the same shit over and over again. So.....no. Just no. I'm not going to do it anymore. I'm just not going to kick myself down for something I had no control over and could not do alone. In truth, every one has to share in the blame as well as in the rewards.

So why dish out double the hell just to give up on any reward? Do I honestly deserve any? Am I not allowed to pat my own back even if I deserve more? I know others can't step on my throat if I'm not doing the yogi miracle and doing it myself, but damn......really?

Really? I know I'm mess up and twisted, but I'm not even doing this for something I want outside of hating myself more?

Really....what the fuck?

*throws CD into trash and moves on*

There you go. Good for you.

Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Fourteen – Hawkmoon 269

The darkness was unfathomable as the black sedan roared through the desert. Time and space never felt more intangible then it does now. It reminded him of what it may have been early in the birth of the world as eons passed over before life had enough sentient thought to look up towards the think and heavy blanket of stars and know that they were alone. How the need to understand and define what could not be explained with sight alone cause them to look above and find any meaning to why they were and why they leave. If he knew his history well, as we all know he does, the Kachina look down upon the Hopi when have simply passed on the mantel of mortality to join their ancestors with understanding, love and the precious rain that had fallen some time ago. The blessing of rain is in many of their songs that they were questioned if all of their music had a desire for rain. The elder smiled and responded to the anthropologist that humanity has always sang for what they needed most and that his people living in such arid landscape had always looked up towards those favorable Kachina and asked for the water that falls from the sky to make their existence passable. He also remarked to the anthropologist that his own people sing for love and yet they still sing for it now.

Like a runaway train

Like thunder needs rain

His voice joins them tonight.

Like a desert needs rain

The sedan's V8 was a suitable choice for the venture and even though he would have favored something a bit more sleeker the engine alone made the return pilgrimage forgiving. Not everyone can say that they had spent their last moment of time with someone they love dearly only to discover that just a few hours from now they would be gone. Perhaps with the Kachina. He held that thought closely since his conflict with faith would take another decade to manifest in a night of blood. Time did not exist here and simply moving took on sinister notes as he floored the engine to what he could. He understood that he could be pulled over at any moment, but he was against a clock that did not exist here and needed to be ready for an hour of time that he spent under books and the bedside of a dying woman. He needed to punish himself as well of all humanity around him, yet for now he took it out on the engine as he roared the beast forward across the dark sands.

When the night has no end

And the day yet to begin

His companions have fallen into slumber that is not restful, yet only enough to chew up hours of time. They lay back as far as the ample seats will allow only to know that even in this beast it's not as favorable to deep REM as one's own bed, something he has given up in some form of penance since the age of 16. He had never had his own bed and chances are he will never have it again. Nomads with vagabond tendencies somehow do not find solace in such material safety nets as he had either slept near some sort of 'fuck it' bag, packed and ready to leave into the oblivion of a new venture or depended on the comfort of a stranger. Having no sense of peace that some rely on sleep to deliver he has opted on drifter shoes and lain on floors, couches and yes, if lucky in the bed of a warm and sympathetic being. He favored the first two, yet secretly dreaded/yearned the latter. The passing of flesh has lacked some restful aspect that if lucky his eager and dedicated action would earn his bedmate some respite, yet for him it had never gave him true peace. Sex would silence Prometheus bound, yet it would never give him those moments that he yearned most for.

As the room spins around

Like a rhythm unbroken

Like honey on her tongue

Like a sheet stained

They say heroin is the same way, yet he had chosen his vice and found it's choice just as destructive. Thankfully it is the kind of destruction that would only incinerate him as moth to flame.

Like oxygen

Like the hot needs the sun

Like sunlight

And how that moth burned.

Like a Phoenix rising needs a holy tree

Like the sweet revenge of a bitter enemy

And will continue to burn. Flames change, yet the moth still burns.

Like tongues of flame

Like a thought unchained

Being the only one somewhat awake for the passage, his mind wanders as it has always wandered. Without methods of keeping his subconscious at bay, his thoughts run rampant after such a noble attempt at preparing for his fast approaching task. Plant phyla can only keep certain thoughts away without thoughts of reproduction. His mind wanders the last time he had slept with anyone and the names change as quickly as a child runs through the alphabet with fear of loosing such attained knowledge as a tower of blocks would fall. His enslaved mind always worked in chains that interlocked into the depths of his mind he didn't want to approach, much less be trapped in a speeding car towards what he called civilization. Here, time has no bound as he would then add several more names and issues to his long list of lovers who had either left him empty or had torn off another sliver of heart that would soon be up for the price of sustenance and Shakespearean spending cash. Here time warped and changed. His appearance would change with the length and color of his hair. Words would haunt him and let him know that his most primal of needs will not be met, yet you should take consolation in guttural sexual satisfaction that would just leave him in dire needs of more. The fist hit of the white serpent always promised more and neglected much. It would never be the same as he slowly spoke each of their names and how devastating they had left him. Some left some lingering need. Others left him shaking and enraged at his weakness and folly to have chanced a moment of joy under such deaf and insolent stars. Others would only be a mystery and have suffered the fool to hoard and nurture hope that would only leave him willing to fling himself against the self mutilating affect of his only addiction.

Like a town needs a name

Like a drifter needs a room

Yes, he can admit that now. He is addicted. There will be a time that he would understand that he only wanted on thing for individuals who would only want him for conquest or even fodder for their own needs. Some would foster his delusion. Other would simply take use of it to squeeze out of him what they could not from others. In a matter of a small time he would be tossed aside time and time again. He would grown calluses and simply understand that he had some unwanted attribute that would attract just enough attention to be tossed aside. An expiration date that he would either cut relations close to the end to make sure his moments remain sweet yet unfulfilled or wait his time longer and simply fall out of favor. Other times he would chase flames that would call to him time and time again and like the fool he would fling himself close only to suffer enough pain to force him to recollect another attempt.

Like a needle needs a vein

Like drums in the night

Like sweet soul music

Jaded? Of course. Hopeful? Damn him, he would always be. When one's vice is the love of strays he would always have hope. He would offer sanctuary using the tatters of his heart. He would build them up and offer them advice and hope and love just to reach an endgame where time was reached and strays would leave despite his need to reach out and love those who needed it most. His choice would only be self destructive and if he dared numb himself in the belief that they would find permanent homes in the hearts of others as he would remain as tattered and worthless as the shelter that took them in. And yet, some still returned only to have him raise them back up to have another, mainly themselves, to tear them back down.

Like the muzzle of a gun

Like powder needs a spark

Such a stupid fool masquerading as a being of pure logic, your chaotic nature always betrayed you. So much as to have others take hold of what remains as a heart. So much as he still pulls away from others and yet know he starves himself from a  need that only a vice can make feel as urgent and needed. He suffered and laughs and wakes up broken and worthless. He cleans up and calls his shield men to grow in ranks and adds another layer to his own protective beast.

He floors it once more hitting state lines as he trades one desert for another. It would be hours before he can close his eyes for only a moment, drag himself into a shower, drive to his obligation and do what needs done until his eye sight ends the cartoon and all the caffeine and nicotine would finally fail him. He would slumber shamelessly on wet grass until he could walk towards his mule, slumber for a few hours more to allow him to drive home safely enough. Such a noble whipping boy. Sleepless moments would only grow as he traveled to floor where he would sleep two days more to recover his senses.

Like black coffee

Like nicotine

Yet that was then, and the desert still had hold of him. It would always have hold of him.

He brings up that immortal puzzle once more. As the moth returns to it's flame. As the criminal to it's crime. As a masochistic fool who returns to his beating somehow expecting new results that only a brilliant man can call madness. He punishes himself over the constant details and the continual scrutiny of staring over the same information as if a hidden detail or a new lead would just appear in the right angel or frame of mind. Each and every time he compares and think. He wears many shoes and takes on all the roles only to arrive the baffling answer of 'I don't know' and a more frightening realization of 'because they could'. He changes the perpetrator and their role only to arrive at the only x factor between them all: himself. He is the x factor that links all these different people together. It has to be him.

And just as any good horror writer can convey, the forbidden answer arrives. It chills him to the point where he swerves the beast roaring at 90 mph, waking his fellow travelers as they sheepishly question their rude awakening. "Rabbit" is the easiest answer he can muster and lets them know he needs to fill up at the next station. He'd tore into that tank of gas and made great time. He might get back my 4 am. They mumble their incoherent comments and return to slumber.

He walks over to the pump and fills the beast with the best. At least one of them will dine and work well. Why not? It has doesn't better than anything else in his life. Funny, the concept of rewarding one's work and loyalty does not go to far past machinery. His own sustenance differs as he walks over to the small store light with florescent light. He is not looking for a decent meal, but what will get him by. He reaches over to two silver cans and some sort of packaged food stuff as he walks over to the counter. The pretty cashier smiles and comes awake with his arrival. Small talk is had as she offers a bit too much kindness for his taste. How is it that you would turn from this? They smile and he even makes an effort to flirt while asking for the restroom key. She obliges and smiles, making a comment that all the cuties seem to be in a rush somewhere else. It would take him 5 years to discover that charm is only an act that is mastered by the bored, sales workers and serial killers.

Like lies need the dark

Splashing cold water under this harsh light made him see his understand that he is a child of a future past. The lines will appear in time and hard earned gray would creep into his temples. His brow held some doubt lines, but he always held doubt closely. A few more hard lessons must be learned and a handful of women must pass through his life. He stares into his face as is the truth is on the surface and time was being bent to tell him small preventative secrets to prevent hell his way.

"She will use you to clean her conscious and toss you aside."

"She will only want you as a fetish and abandon recant once you shared he bed."

"She will only keep you at arms length, yet leave you on a shelf so no one touches you"

"You are the 'other man' and you will know when she leaves. She will then try to burn all bridges only to build faulty rafts from the charred remains"

The cold water washes it all away. He is not a creature to understand a warning, but one who must pay his price in blood. He would learn his lessons in time and the answer will fade away and return as the song of the turtle does. Funny, the cosmic joke plays on and he still does not understand how on who is miserly with things hard earned could ever survive. He would become that miser and hold back what he always wanted the most. A small circle of companions not met yet would help him more than he would know and yet, he will hold on to his need with a fury. It's funny how those who hunger are willing to share measly morsels of food with others. Those with nothing give their coppers willingly. It's always those who know how important and valuable something is are more than willing to give you all that they have in hopes of fostering ......love? Is that even right? Love? And yet, after so many times he would give it up his trust willingly it would be his trust that would crush him once more.

Or as Stephen King would write, "Their love.....he used their love to kill them both."

Oh cosmic joke, how can you make anyone laugh?

Like a preacher needs pain

Like faith needs a doubt

He paid for his items and made the beast roar once more. Time was being burned and time must move on for now before it moves on. The beast roars onto the 10 once more and head to the respite of Angels and land of the deviant. He calls this city home now and ever and would not call it any other way. Many would come and go, beg him to leave and curse him for staying not wondering that his soul is more than attached there, it's the city itself. Not one where others would be disenfranchised with phonies, posers and "insincere" but one where small plants struggle against the pavement and heat to live, an ocean that washes more sins way that any preacher can market, and hidden places where he can disappear and call holy. Those who toss aside his home would never understand that they seek only an ideal that never was and will never be. An ideal built by fools to entrance more fools. The city was a test to see if those who had eyes can see and if they can understand that using one's illusion was more than a means of presenting, but a way of life. A filter that pulled those who can not see from those who see him as he suits them leaving those who see him as he is.

Like a freeway out

Simply a fool giving what little he values most to those who would only step above him to their own goals and ideals.

Not all sacrifices are killed. Some are tossed aside and allowed to bleed out meaning and thought as the cosmic joke plays on. Some will call it culture. He would call it survival and simply limit his moment of joy to less that two years at best. As much as he wonders, the truth is disturbing and harsh as he spurs the beast out of the desert and into what some would call civilization. Time slowly beings to have meaning and this timeless moment will end and moments move forward. He realizes now that if he knew what was in store he would bleed himself out at that border of time close enough to see himself disappear from existence. Yet who will please the Cosmic joke, but Ka's fool? Salvation and enlightenment for all who bleeds him, yet none for him.

Like coming home 

And you don't know where you've been

See......funny. How else would you treat a sacrifice than to make them immortal?

That would not matter now. He had a test to take and suffering to live. He had to prove a point that only the shallow will never understand unless they have twitter to question, yet not to search.

Ah.......why not? Legends are born of suffering for those who know not the meaning.

And his Legend was only budding now.