Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

I’m a big fan of slow Mondays. I feel like everyone is the same, just trying to get things started. It makes me think it’s not too late to start over.

I prefer sliding doors over the old fashioned 2-3 hinge models. It’s much easier to slam the latter, and while I’ve had my fair share of rage needing an outlet, it never appealed to me as a good way to vent. Why, you ask? Well, to put it simply, I hate the sound. It’s a whoosh of wind, then BAM! And it’s over. It rings for a little bit, a few milliseconds as the noise works its way into every corner and crevasse of that classic 50’s ranch style home. I hate that moment. It’s not the loudest or most annoying noise a house can produce, but it still irks me. I think it’s because the sound is trying to come off as something that demands attention, but it can’t demand a damn thing, so instead it worms its way into my ears and just sticks to whatever song or voice was already taking up my auditory receptors. See, it can’t demand shit, so it can’t drive out the sounds already in my head. No, that slamming can only latch on, like some sort of parasite. It’s a whoosh, followed by a BAM! And the moment is over. Only it’s not over. That slam is taped onto the opening guitar of Crazy Train. That whoosh is lingering in the background of the second half of Bohemian Rhapsody. That BAM is an annoying echo to every bass drum kick in Forgot About Dre. Like, I can forget Dr. Dre, but I can’t forget that goddamn annoying, dramatic, pointless, stupid, rude ass, motha fucking door slam! I don’t care if you slammed the fucking door, alright?! Slam all the fucking doors you want! Slam them, break them, who cares! You won’t ever have to see those doors again, right?! You’re slamming them and leaving, and they won’t ever have to take that abuse again! So just keep going! You want to make a scene, make me yell, make me scream bloody murder, but I won’t! I won’t even notice! Just watch, I’m going to sit here and not move a muscle, and you’ll slam those doors and leave, and I won’t ever turn around or say shit to you! I won’t say a single word! You don’t deserve my attention! You can’t demand a single fucking thing, not a God Damn THING!!! So I won’t answer that slamming door…I won’t even flinch…I’ll barely even register the noise with my headphones on and my music playing…I won’t react…Not right now…I won’t give you the satisfaction. I won’t do anything until you’re finished slamming those doors! So hurry up, get it all out! I know you’re still at it! I can still sense it, underneath my music and podcasts….in the bass lines and snare drums and lyrics…it’s there…you’re still there…you’re there…

…right?

 

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“I started smoking recently. I hate the taste, but I crave their warmth, and I have to admit…they make 2AM feel a lot less lonely.”

My blood is fighting against me.

I can feel it squirm throughout the day, a sharpness that begs for reciprocation.

I’m burning up all of my second chances for just a few moments of relief.

It’s nothing new, waking up to dried lengths of crimson.

It’s nothing new.

~And yet~

I take some solace in the fact that it still hurts.

Because that’s my only proof.

It’s undeniable proof…that I’m still human…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“I saw you again last night, in my dreams. I knew it was a dream, but still…for the first time in weeks I felt warm…”

This body is rejecting me, slowly and slowly.

My bones of collagen and calcium phosphate

Feel the constant friction of running away.

My once solid steps now falter,

As if I am walking on sand.

The only way I can move

Is to burn it all into sharp glass.

And so I am a fragile mess,

A transparent coward,

Unwilling to take a single step

Because the next mistake I make

Is sure to shatter whatever’s left

Of the person I wanted to be..

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

I don’t know how it works for the rest of the world, but I fall in love in more ways than I can count.

We arrived at the theater right as the previews were starting. I was happy, because I love trailers and having something to look forward to. You always made it a point to gauge my reactions to every trailer, but regardless of my level of excitement you would enthusiastically proclaim that we’d go see that movie, then the next, and so and so forth, until we apparently will be viewing everything coming out for the rest of forever. I would point out how impossible that would be, but that didn’t seem to bother you one bit. In fact, you relished in the challenge, proclaiming in a voice barely above a whisper (it was a movie theater after all)”

“Have no fear! I’m pretty sure it’s my job to make the impossible possible for us, so we’ll figure it out! I mean, we do have forever.”

You were a bit too perfect, weren’t you? I mean, you weren’t even trying to be sappy and romantic at all, that’s just how you were.

Goddamnit, you were so freaking perfect..

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

From chaos and all its corollary elements, how is it that every breath in the expanse of existence has lead this Universe towards the creation of the exact me?

I woke up today thinking it was Wednesday. This was odd, as yesterday was Monday, and I didn’t recall doing any time traveling. Where did my Tuesday go? I checked my phone and it confirmed my internal clock must be broken, because of course it was Tuesday. It was Tuesday, April 24th, 2018, the day directly following Monday, April 23rd, 2018. I was moving through time and space at the same speed as the rest of the people on this planet.

But that can’t be right.

My phone is telling me it is not only Tuesday, April 24th, 2018, but it is also 9:43PM. That’s PM, as in post-meridiem, as in 2 hours, 17 minutes of Wednesday, April 25th, 2018. It’s so close to the next day, it might as well be the next day. But then that day ought to just be the next day after that, and so on and so on and so on. Why am I bothering to move at all? Why am I letting my world be lived out in the forward progression of these clocks and calendars? I can just forfeit my time, right? I can just wake up and decide that today is not today. Or maybe that yesterday never happened, or that tomorrow has come and gone. I can do that, any and all of that, and find myself at the end.

I can stop my time.

So what am I waiting for? I’m blowing up my career because I’m too embarrassed to explain away the fresh cuts covering my arm, and I’m too drugged up to concentrate and get anything done in a timely manner. I’m actively attacking my body in new ways, ranging from punching myself until I throw up to breaking my own wrist and arm with a wooden baseball bat. I’m sick, very fucking sick, but I refuse to get help. I want to fix myself, but I can’t. I have people offering help, but I won’t accept any. I am running out of time…but wait, I can’t be running out of time, right? I mean I stopped my time. So I’m not running out of the stuff. But I guess, by putting my time on pause, I’m making it impossible to get any better. So when my time does start moving, it’ll be a split second of light at the end of my life, and in that moment I’ll feel an eternities worth of regret, and then I’ll be nothing.

And that’s all you ever were.

You were always nothing. You were not flowery words and similes of love. You were never a broken hearted teen. You were never a good son, or sibling, or friend. Hell, you never even knew what love really was. You were never good. You never mattered. You never could have amounted to anything. You never were meant to live. You never had the courage to just fucking kill yourself.

You’re a fucking coward.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

May 3rd, 2018. It’s been 5 years, and I’ve spent that entire span of time proving you right. I’m alone today, and I really shouldn’t be alone today..

“Why do you want to die?”

~I’ve asked myself that question a thousand times, and I’ve come up with a thousand different answers. It depends on the time of day, whether or not I’ve seen the Sun in the past 24 hours. It changes based on how full I am, and whether or not I’ve cooked a decent meal for myself versus being surrounded by a mountain of empty pizza boxes. Maybe the biggest factor is how empty that brand new bottle of pills is after 1 not so bad day, and where I left my favorite knife last night…~

“I’m asking about today, right now. What happened? Taylor…what happened that made you want to die? What made death seem like your only option?”

~But dying isn’t my only option. Do you think I’ve come to this conclusion because it’s the only thing I have left?~

“Why else would you be saying it, acting the way you act, making everyone so worried that they felt the need to come find you in the middle of the night in your apartment to make sure you were still alive?! Why else would you want to die unless it was the only thing left?!”

~There are so many other things, but the main one would be this; I could die, or I could live. I’m picking between the 2.~

“Bullshit. You owe me more of an answer than that.”

~No, I don’t. It’s simple, and you don’t want it to be simple. You want a logical path. Well I didn’t follow any logic to get here, so I guess it’s a path you could never follow. And that upsets you, probably just as much as anything else I’ve said or done. You can’t see what I see, and you feel left behind, right?~

“You always do this…you always twist it into this…this thing, your thing, it always becomes your things, your words, your right and I’m wrong! I do feel left behind, okay?! I feel left behind, betrayed, abandoned, discarded, thrown in the garbage! I want to understand, but I can’t! I can’t, and I never can! You are somewhere in the universe, and it’s…it’s really, really far away…Taylor, you are right here in front of me, right? You’re voice is so close I can feel your breathing…but you aren’t here. Taylor…I can reach out my hand and touch your arm, but you aren’t really here…You feel so far away, when I never wanted that, ever. I would have followed you… I wanted to follow you…Taylor, please, tell me, why can’t we see the same things anymore? Hey, Taylor, why? Why? Hey, just tell me, please, I want to know. Why is it you want to go where I can’t follow? Where nobody can follow? Why do you want to die?”

~…What was it I wanted to be when I was finally all grown up? Do you remember?~

“…You said it didn’t matter what you did, or where you lived, or how long it would last. You said you just wanted to live and grow up to be happy…”

~That should be everybody’s goal, right? To find happiness, that’s all life should be. The details on how a person gets to that point, they shouldn’t matter, not in the long run. Don’t you agree?~

“I want that for you, Taylor. I want you to have happiness, so why do you want to…”

~Die? What if I said it’s because that’s what would make me happy? You wouldn’t wish for my happiness then, would you?~

“Taylor…I’m not sure…”

~You can’t imagine death like that. You can’t imagine death as granting somebody happiness.~

“People are always dying, it’s part of life. Sometimes people are suffering, and death would be better than the pain of living. Is that what you’re getting at? That you are in so much pain that dying would be a mercy, and thus make you happy?”

~Absolutely not. That line of thinking is a copout. My suffering, my pain, I can gauge them against other peoples, and it’s obvious I’m one lucky person. I have more going for me than going against me.~

“..But you still want to die?”

~Yes.~

“And dying is the best way for you to be happy?”

~Dying would be scary. The thought of not existing frightens me. I’m scared out of my mind, and every time I take another pill or cut another notch in my skin, I feel a real terror, that I’ve gone to far this time, that I won’t make it back. I’m terrified of what death means.~

“Then why seek it out?! Why are you doing this if you are afraid?! God, Taylor…you have people who don’t want you dead! They want you to live and smile and be happy! And you make those people happy! You add so much to the lives of so many! Don’t downplay it! Don’t do it, Taylor! You don’t need to die!”

~I know I don’t. I get what you’re trying to say, and why you’re saying it, and it makes me feel really, really warm, to hear you say that. But I know I don’t have to die.~

“Taylor..”

~But I’ve thought about it. A lot. Like, a lot a lot, and I’ve realized I’m not living to be happy. I want happiness. Well, more like I want to want happiness. That doesn’t make much sense, but it’s the best way I can say it. I’m not living, working and saving, trying and hoping, for a future. I’m not thinking about what tomorrow might bring, I’m just thinking about getting there. And that in and of itself isn’t such a bad thing, especially for someone who has depression. I was struggling just to wake up, because nothing seemed worth it. I fought with myself every night, and I kept getting up, kept fighting off my demons. It hurt…but I was trying to win. I wanted to eventually win, and feel free, feel something other than empty.~

“You weren’t! You’re Not empty, not at all! You have so much inside of you, and you show it every day! You give people, you give ME, something that nobody else can! So you are NOT empty!”

~You are kind, and not just for saying those things. You aren’t saying them just because you think I need to hear those words, I know that. And I want to believe in you. I want to believe in the you who believes in me. But at the end of the day, no version of me feels anything, aside from this fear of dying. And so I keep living. For me, that’s not what I want. I want to beat the fear, I want to see what’s on the other side. I want to fight back in the only way I feel will matter. I want to die.~

“..what about what I want?”

~I’m selfish, you know this. In the end I’m always going to pick me.~

“I mean nothing to you?”

~You know you are more than nothing…~

“So I’m not the dirt, but the worms in the dirt?! I’m one step up from trash in your eyes! That’s all people are to you, huh?! A blur of faces, and none of us mean a fucking, goddamn thing to you!”

~…~

“Say it! Fucking say it! Admit it! Just say that you don’t give a flying fuck! I was never anything to you! And nobody else, and nobody EVER, could ever have been something!”

~…~

“You always have something to say, so why are you being quiet!? Why won’t you just fucking say it! It doesn’t matter, you are going to die anyway, so why not just say it?! SAY IT!!!”

~I…I want to die…and I know what that means…regardless of my feelings and reasons, in the end, it’s selfish, the ultimate selfish act… I don’t want to say it all meant nothing…but my actions speak louder than words…~

“…So I’m nothing…and this…us…we were…we are…nothing?”

~…~

“You…dying should be easy, seeing as how you are so good at killing others.”

~I didn’t want to…~

“YOU DIDN’T WHAT?! Didn’t want to HURT me?! You let people close to you! Maybe we didn’t know the real you, maybe you just played us, all of us, your entire fucking life, but we CARED! And we still care! And you don’t get to say you didn’t want to hurt anybody when you say you want to die!”

~…you asked me why, and I told you why…and I knew this would happen, which is why I didn’t want to talk about it.~

“O of COURSE you knew! You know everything, right?! Just the all seeing Taylor, peering straight into your soul! What amazing spiritual prowess!”

~…just shut up, for one minute, please. Just…stop. I told you, I knew how this would end, how this conversation would have to end. I’ve spent years thinking this through in my head, and…~

“Why don’t YOU just shut the fuck up, for 5 fucking minutes! It’s my turn to talk, not yours! This is my lecture, and you WILL listen! You always have something to say! Taylor, you ALWAYS have a response! Why is that, huh? Why do you always have to have a come back, have the last word, leave the last impression? You don’t even have an answer for me, you know you are being a selfish prick, and you think just admitting that will make me understand?! I totally fucking get that you are being a grade A asshat! I totally understand that you are aware of your status as a douchebag! But being aware and admitting to it doesn’t mean you understand how I FEEL! Do I feel betrayed? Yes! Do I feel angry? Big ol fucking hell yeah! Do I want to punch you square in the jaw? Give me some tape and brass knuckles and I’d go to town! But do I ever, for a second, want you to leave? Well, what do you think? Now it’s your turn to talk, so go ahead Taylor.”

~..I can’t make excuses, and I won’t try. I hurt you, and treated you and others like garbage. I’m a garbage human for that.~

“That’s not answering my question, Taylor.”

~Look, at some point, even if I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody, I made the choices that were going to hurt them, which is the same as making the decision to hurt them…to hurt you..and I…~

“STILL NOT ANSWERING MY QUESTION!”

~WELL THE ANSWER SHOULD BE OBVIOUS! YOU SHOULD WANT TO LEAVE! I MADE IT SO THAT IS THE ONLY THING THAT MAKES SENSE!~

“And since when have I ever made any sort of sense, huh?!”

~STOP! Just…just fucking STOP! I want to die, because I don’t know how to live! And so long as something is keeping me tethered to the here and now I’ll never be able to take that next step! I should be dead! So why am I not dead?! Because it would hurt my friends and family?! Because I’m afraid to die?! I have no illusion of hope! I crushed every ounce of me that would even dare to hope! I’m a patchwork of bullshit human emotions hiding behind an idiots mask! I’m not the person you think I am! I’m not even the person I thought I was! I’m not! I’m just…I’m nothing…and I don’t care anymore…just go ahead and hate me, fuck it. I don’t care anymore.~

“Taylor. You still haven’t answered my question.”

~…you wouldn’t leave me.~

“And do you know why?”

~I’m toxic. You’re supposed to cut toxic people out of your life, we do nothing but take, and…~

“DO. YOU. KNOW. WHY?!”

~Jesus fucking Christ, no, okay! I don’t know why you stay, or want to stay! I don’t!~

“FINALLY! Something you don’t know! I finally get to teach you something! Listen up, and listen good, because I’m only going to say this once. Well, I’ll actually say this as many times as I need to in order to get it through that thick skull of yours. Are you listening?”

~..just tell me.~

“I won’t walk away from you, and I don’t want to walk away from you, because I love you.”

~I’m not worth loving…~

“Doesn’t matter. My love is there. I don’t love everything about you. Like right now, I’m not loving how sore my throat is from yelling at you. I’m not loving how stupid you are, or how cold it is in the middle of April in your apartment, since you never turn the heat up after March. I’m not loving how tired your eyes are…and how sloped your back is. I don’t like how dry your skin looks, or how you haven’t shaved in what must be months. I don’t love that you aren’t taking care of yourself…and I don’t love how you want to die…but Taylor, I still love you. I’m your friend, and I love you. I love seeing you smile, and I know you want me to smile too. I’m not going to throw you away. You are acting like you are throwing me away, and you are even saying you will…but I don’t buy it. I don’t know if you could actually go through with it Taylor. And honestly..I don’t even know if things will get better…I don’t know if I can help, but God I want to. I want to help you Taylor. I don’t understand, but I want to help anyway.”

~..You’re to good for me…~

“Hey, I agree with you, but I’m here anyway. And I’m not going anywhere.”

~…I didn’t think this talk would end like this.~

“End? O heavens no, this talk is FAR from over.”

~Damnit..should’ve guessed.~

“You still feel like you want to die, right?”

~…yeah…~

“Let’s go get dinner. Chinese buffet sound good?”

~I’m not sure if dinner is…~

“Look, nobody has EVER killed themselves while enjoying a chinese buffet. At least not at the Golden Dragon. Or at least not in the past year. And you haven’t eaten today. So, we shall feast!”

~You switch gears awfully fast.~

“There are 7 billion humans on Earth. And the Earth is a giant ball of dirt and shit flying through space, stuck in orbit around a giant oven planet, which is only 1 of an infinite number of giant oven planets in a universe we can’t even begin to imagine. Gotta stay flexible.”

~…Fried rice does sound good.~

“You’re driving.”

~Of course, I wouldn’t trust you driving us anywhere.~

“Very true.”

~…Thank you…~

“Don’t thank me. We’re just starting Taylor.”

~…Will you hate me, if you wake up some day and I’m not here?~

“I think what you’re really asking, is whether or not I’d forgive you.”

~…~

“And that would depend. But overall, probably not.”

~Yeah…~

“But that’s not going to be enough of a reason for you not to kill yourself anyway, so it’s not worth me, or you, worrying about. I want you to find a reason to live that isn’t based on guilt. But, if guilt will prolong things, I’m very willing to lean on it, at least for now.”

~That’s pretty cruel.”

“You aren’t the only one who can be ruthless Taylor.”

~You got me there.~

“I’m not leaving. And I’m not going to give you a free pass if you die.”

~…you really are to good for me…~

“Of course. Now, let’s hit the road. I need a full 2 hours to make full use of the buffet.”

~…thank you…~

“O shut up! But you’re welcome.”

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

I’m only wearing these emotions. It’s all painted on passion, washed away during any rainy day.

It eats away at you from the outside in, or the inside out, or whatever fucking way makes sense to you. Honestly, it doesn’t mean a fucking thing, how this world breaks us. In the end, it doesn’t matter how a soul is ripped apart, because nobody has time to spare grief for another person’s pain when they have their own crumbling galaxy to pathetically hold on to.

I’m nothing but the ideas others project onto me, and so I’ve gotten into the habit of letting people down in the smallest of ways so they start to think of me as unreliable. At this point though is it really an act? That’s the question I have to answer now.

~Am I really just pretending to be this terrible, or was I always this way?~

Better yet, does it matter if I am doing this on purpose or not? I’m still fucking up..

So that’s it huh? I have been acting like a fuck up so people have reasons to hate me, but from the very start it didn’t matter what my motives were for acting the way I did…I was making the choice to let others down, so I was/am a piece of filth.

I want to go home.

But home is now the bottom of a bottle of pills that leave my stomach a mess and my mind a mashup of lost thoughts and incomplete dreams.

So what did home used to mean to me? How is it that I’m able to walk up a flight of stairs and put on a smile, tell a few jokes, laugh like I’m okay, then walk back down those stairs and know I’m seconds away from cutting my arm wide open?

I can spend a beautiful Friday afternoon playing catch with a funny friend, making jokes, dancing like an idiot, eating good food and having a good time, and the second I leave to head off on my own, I feel so fake I have to hit my head against my window, and I’m drained to the point where I sleep for 16 hours after taking another bottle of pills to silence my fucking demons..