This is my blog. A place for my mind to paint its pictures and share its thoughts, but there are some facts of life I'm just not ready to be honest and open about with everyone yet. Which puts me in quite a crux. The truth of the matter is I see the spiral...downward and ever present. Yet it doesn't scare me. It seems like the most real thing there is to me right now. The only thing I truly love and embrace. Because the honest truth comes down to this: when "god", family, friends, lovers, and the other beings that take up my life fall away all I'm left with is the spiral. The chaos that ensues and is mostly my own creation has become that unrequited lover that keeps me warm while it brings me closer and closer to the edge of the abyss.
This last year has become a listing of what the world has done wrong to me with a brief break in the last two months of spotty times of glee. But at most my glee has amounted to a reaching and longing for something that I've wanted all my life but fear now I've allowed myself to become too broken to even know. So accept the substitute which the night or day of is amazing. Outstanding even. It comes on me like a wave and leaves me glaring and hungry like a wild beast. And once done I cower back to the truth that these things pass because they were never meant to be lasting. Like a Henry Miller or other cynic I find that nothing lasts and I wonder if all "hope" and "love" and "belonging" is not only a fairy tale for me but for all humanity.
After a brief burst of the creative I struggle to find what I love. I thought I knew what I wanted. Believed in a "god" that gave me desires for it. Thought with each new try that if I just did this better things would work out. If I just sacrificed and gave until it hurt that that perfect longing would be fulfilled. But now I find only scattered remains with no clues or answers. I haven't grown from any of this. If anything I've devolved in a creature of simple longings of a life filled with carnal pleasures and brief respite. And I keep telling myself, "You can't keep this up." Yet here I am.
Advice from everywhere does little. Most men in my life I resent with their narrow dick metaphors and "buck up" mentality. I've "bucked up" and sucked it up and let it slide and all those good slogans that get you peons through the day. But there has to come a point in life where enough is enough and you just say fucking stop. I can't buy that the slogan for mine or any life is we just deal with pain and move on. There has to be some place of justice and solace in all this mess. I can't just accept the now.
I say this a lot but I'll repeat on and on like a broken record until some soul finally fucking gets me: I'm tired. I just pray that before I die I meet one soul that says something that speaks to my heart because so far no family, friends, or other have made a dent and I really daily have to fight not to just give up.
AND I DON'T MEAN KILL MYSELF!!!
Just to be clear. Just lock myself away and fritter away the days while I wait for solace one only finds in a grave...preferably of an old age but only out of a feeling of obligation to you all. I have no need for this. Life frankly is wasted on the living, and after 33 years of health issues, financial struggle, drug addiction, liars, thieves, and harlots I'm just ready to retire from this mess we call reality into a space deep in my mind no one can find me. Maybe in the end I was more honest here than I thought myself capable.
I give words of joy and light in hopes I'll believe it too. If it helps some of you then congratulations. For me it is a daily reminder of where I want my life to be, but also where I am losing faith of existence.
Peace...
1 comment:
Said the Abyss to Hamlet. Don't look to deeply into me. All I am is nothing and nothingness. I am but endless darkness and relentless silence. I am unmoving yet no dust settles herein. There are no answers here, warrior. Break your catatonic stare. Act now. Leave me forever and with the rest of your days, strike hard and decisively. Why let your fury lay deep inside you, sullenly boiling your blood into silent steam and grinding your bones to dust? Is it not better to thrust it out with great velocity from every pore, with your every action? Let your actions speak your legend. The physical is a manifestation of the spirit. Let your spirit be teeming with fury. Let your strength be unusual and controlled. The average is the borderline that keeps mere men in their place. Those who step over that line are heroes by the vary act. Go.
- Henry Rollins
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