REPORT A PROBLEM
I remember when our conversations were worth saving - worth looking back on when I was bored or lonely. I remember when I used to care - and when I used to think that you did, too. I recall a time that knew a mutual love and respect between us, I remember once believing that it was okay to be honest. I remember being happy, naive, content, free to feel whatever my heart desired. Now I remember those things - and tomorrow I will merely remember remembering. I'll reminisce of a time when I still recollected what it felt like to be loved.
I'm surrounded by so many people, and I'm still not sure that anyone is really listening. Is everyone just waiting to tell you about their problems, asking about my day just to be polite? When my mouth opens, do you hear a sound? When my eyes are asking questions, are you just looking through me? This is my life, this is not a cartoon, or a game, or a joke. This is my life, and I'm watching it slip through my fingertips. Life is empty when I'm so alone. Am I too busy or just to afraid to love again?
So this guy walks into a talent agent's office and says "Sir - you HAVE to see this." He immediately calls to his wife and children and they file in, totally nude. The man strips and sits down on a chair. He jacks of a bit and his wife begins to cry. The children then smother the mother with their genitals. Suddenly, the family dog (a greyhound) comes in and anally violates one of the children - a 4-year-old girl. At this point the agent yells "What the hell is this?" and the man says "We call ourselves 'The Aristocrats.'"
I feel myself being pulled away from the earth, and it flies away from me until it is the size of a basketball, baseball, marble, nothing. I spin and flail and have no sense of direction. Even if I knew what was left and what was right, I wouldn't know what to make of it - where to go. So I close my eyes and wait for it all to end. At this speed, I'll have to come crashing into something... eventually. I fly through my life, seeing faces, hearing voices, feeling nothing. Where is my heart? Where is my home?
It doesn't matter where I begin - I always come back around to the same place. I'm fighting my way forward, just to fall back to a place where I'm safe, where I'll wait for my next surge of courage to take a risk. But is it really a risk if I just fall back? Walking to the edge is nothing like jumping. Letting go of everything I know and am comfortable with - I'm not sure how anymore. So here I am typing it out, asking you to push me without regard for my safety, so I can live.
I hate just sitting here, feeling like my life is wasting away. I feel no motivation, no purpose. I'm bored and yet I don't want to do anything. I don't know who I am, why I'm here. I don't know how to define myself. I feel so lost and so empty. I'm not sure where I took a wrong turn, or when or how - I'm not even sure where I was trying to go, let alone how to proceed from here. I am forgotten, vulnerable, open, and confused. There is no one to call, and surely, it is all my fault.
The street lights all begin to dim, the rain begins to fall, my eyes drift downwards and I collapse. The street is cold against my cheek, but I dont mind. The water fills my ear and covers my face: it too is cold. My eyes are fixed on the distant horizon: for no reason other than that there is nothing better to look at, or any worse. My arms are limp at my sides and my clothes are soaked through. Tears begin to mix with the rain, but no one else could tell (though I'm alone, anyhow). I miss you.
It's so fucking cold in this room. The window is shitty, I can feel a breeze coming right through it - might as well be a screen. My fingers are getting numb and I'm still without an idea. I'm tired but I just don't want to sleep. I'll talk to you and figure it out - calm myself down before I try to sleep. You're not aware that you're helping, or that I need help... necessarily. Oh well, this is nothing new. I'm not sure if I should be proud that I'm honest with myself or ashamed of the truth.
Life is about moving on, even when it isn't all that convenient - even when it feels like throwing away what you have, even if it means being alone. Life isn't about sitting and wanting, it's about needing and getting, trying and failing, hoping and dreaming, watching it all come crashing down. Life is about redefinition, never being satisfied, and always keeping your head up. Don't fall behind the curve - draw it. Life is about lying to yourself to stay motivated, even when you really don't know what the hell you're trying for. I guess I'm living it up.
I'm not sure where it came from, but I can't regret it. I did what made me happy, you did what made you happy - there is no one to blame. You were beautiful... you are beautiful. Tastes of feeling, of acceptance, of love keep me moving forward, keep me true, keep me honest, keep me living like I do. How could I have ever slept with so much on my mind? The sun rose so slowly. You've really sent me for a loop - my guard is down, but I'm used to being vulnerable, and I'm used to disappointment.
Of course something is wrong. I can't remember the last time I felt so disgusting, so selfish and empty, so suddenly. But it isn't your fault - you can't feel guilty for doing anything. I'll take full responsibility - I think I'm a martyr by nature. I'd far rather beat myself up about it for days than let you be uncomfortable or feel responsible. So no, I'm not okay, and I can't just hide it - but I'm not going to force you to deal with it or bring you in, bring you down with me. I'll be just fine.
"You are what you love, not what loves you."It doesn't matter that you weren't affectionate in return: who I am is defined by what I do and feel, not what others do to or feel about me. I meant what I said and what I did. I thought highly of you, and I still do. I'm sorry to have said something that upset you. I think you deserve to be treated well, with respect, truly appreciated - and that's what was going through my head Friday night. I can't be faulted for that, and I can't fault you for it.
Close your eyes and forget the brutal truth, ignore the pain and wear smile. Today is only a bad day if you make it one. That's a lie. Whatever. Pull through, be strong. There is no one there to pick you up should you fall, so stay on your fucking feet. It is your obligation to everyone around you to be happy or at very least a good pretender. Convince yourself that everything is going to be just dandy. Don't harp on the past, don't look to the future, ignore the present. If this keeps up, I'm going to crack.
I'm not sure what hurt more today: being alone, or my throat being raw from coughing non-stop. Either way, Vicodin made it go away. I'm not in the habit of running from my problems, but this was just too easy. Killed two birds with one stone, if I'm trying to be cliche about it. Happy Valentine's Day. Yeah, right... fuck that. This day is awful, and I just want it to go away. I wish I had someone to talk to, because I'm going to go nuts. I'm pathetic and lonely and I don't know what to do about it.
Don't wait up - turn away and save yourself the pain. I'll watch you walk away: calm and collected. Not until you are out of earshot will I break down. Not until no one is looking will I collapse and wonder where I went wrong. Don't take my pain - I created it, and I own it. I won't make you responsible for my actions, or my feelings. I won't take that smile off your face. The sun graces your hair as you walk off, and I find myself in shadows. This is my life. Good to the last drop.
One of the hardest things in my life that I've ever had to do was to ask a simple question. Even simpler because I knew the answer before you even said it. It's hard enough to feel unloved, unwanted. To be teased with it, only to find out it was fake, is a whole other issue. To give me worth, then take it away - god it hurts. It's not that I hate you now, or even blame you, but the truth is that it tears me apart inside. I can't look back at that night without at least cringing.
I don't understand the motivation for the lies. Where the fuck do I stand? How the fuck can I? God damnit this isn't a joke - this is a person. This isn't just some story, this is my life. These aren't petty matters, these are my feelings, my sanity, my self-respect. How can I just close my eyes, how can I ignore everything going on around me? I'm so fucking torn, because I want to protect you from any type of harm, but I also feel like I deserve the truth, and I'm not sure that is what I'm getting.
Prescription pain killers are fun. I can understand how so many people get addicted to them. Feeling under the weather? Don't want to deal with all your problems that day? Just take a pill and all of those things go away. One minute a headache is debilitating, but the next minute you are dancing around the house because you feel like a new man. Thank you, Vicodin - you may not be the strongest pain killer available, but you have done me well. Fuck you, pain, I don't need you. Why deal with something when you can wish it away?
Torn, twisted branches rap the windows, starlight leaks between the curtains and finds itself on rough, old wood floors. The wind blows under the doors and rocks the entire structure, causing it to speak. It moans softly of time long gone, of love lost. It bends and creaks but is not ready to collapse. If someone were to walk on the stairs, they would sing, and if someone were to look in a mirror, it would scream. If someone were to care, it could all be beautiful again. But no one does, and no one has for so very long.
Ever wake up feeling great, ready to start a new day... only to have it all come crashing down in a single shitstorm the moment you crawl out of bed? Me either, well... not until this morning. It's like waking to the bright light on the front of a freight train, coming right for you - and you're too tired to even move out of the way. You don't even have the energy or the will to save yourself, and the day you were looking forward to never has a chance to start. Good morning, and then, good night.
I rented the wrong disc of 24 last night. Son of a bitch. Last episodes from season 3 and I needed the last episodes from season 2. Son of a bitch. I've nothing to do all day long: I wanted to finish up that season, grab something to eat, relax and then either go see the African drummer, or go to the bar. Either way. Son of a bitch. Now I'm bored. I guess I'll go get a shower and see if there's anything on television, or maybe someone wants to run over to Blockbuster to get the right movie.
You know it was a bad night when you wake up still feeling it. My stupid ass should stay away from alcohol: it's ability to amplify my feelings while simultaneously preventing me from censoring what I let out of my mouth is not necessarily the best combination of effects. I guess I should either stay sober or get so shit-faced that I can't form full sentences, so I'll not even bother speaking. Pretty great set of solutions, huh? Yeah, well I thought so. I should've just gone to see that drummer last night. In retrospect, I should've done everything differently.
My eyelids snap shut on a cold white day, I'm not sure where I am. I'm probably alone, but I don't know and I don't care. Nothing that you say or do could make me feel any differently now. I'm fairly certain that my face is blank, but I've no mirror to confirm. I feel like floating, I feel like falling, I feel like time is gone. Birds chirp, a baby cries, a pin drops on the floor: dancing in the air, resonating, and the sun's glare greets my newly opened eyes. I'm not sure what to think or feel.
I can feel the world crash down all around me. I just wish I had a grip, I wish I had someone. There's not a lot that I can say when you're asking for lies, there's not a lot that I can feel when I'm telling them. So when you see me fall apart, please think no less of me. When you see my bleeding heart, please feel no differently. My burden is none of your business, and my concerns are just that. But don't think it can disappear. I only have the strength to ignore it for so long.
It's a funny thought - the things that could change if people were just honest and open. If there was no guessing, no interpreting, no wondering what the fuck is going through everyone else's head. But no, that just isn't how things work. So I'll start the movement. I'll be honest, I'll let you know what I am thinking. Maybe it will catch on and a few people will be straight up with me. What a crazy idea. What could we possibly gain from knowing what those around us are feeling? Why would we want to know the ugly truth?
I often find myself wondering what tomorrow will bring, or wishing that it would carry with it some significance. Right now, I'm not so much looking forward to tomorrow. As with most Mondays, it is going to be very busy. I'm sure I'll get everything done, I just wonder how well. And then there are a few extra concerns: will I have the power make someone smile? Will tomorrow hold any conversations worth remembering? Or will the day come and go without much fuss, and fade away into the gross pile of memories forgotten? I guess I'll see soon enough.
The gentle pulse, the swell and the break - a world of darkness in front of me. With my back turned on civilization, I can watch the world in its simplest form: the waves pull back all the facades, all the makeup and lies. The sand embraces me, the ocean speaks subtlety, and I listen. Every muscle in my body slowly relaxes, and I begin to fade. My hopes and dreams crumble. My pain is washed away. There is nothing to feel but my heart beating against the heart of the earth: the gentle pulse, the swell and the break.
I am honest, I am true to what I think, feel, and believe. If the words from my tongue come pointed, if they lash at you - it is because they should. If you are comforted by the sound of my voice, you are hearing love. If you cringe when you feel my eyes on you, it is only because I am cringing, too. If the sky were to fall and the end of days were upon us, I'd have few last words. I've made my peace, I've nothing to hide, there's nothing to say. But what would you say?
The Tip Jar