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

“With nothing to keep me grounded, all I can do is drift towards the Sun, waiting for gravity, or at least something like that.”

When gravity fails you don’t fall, instead you drift away into the sky as the heat from the sun increases to give you the world worst case of sunburn, and so you are left waiting as you drift, waiting on anything, something, to come save you. Now, replace gravity with love and the same rules apply. So I’m just waiting, with a sunburned back, on something to save me…

It starts out so simple, just a force of nature, just the gravity that keeps us all grounded; that was his love for her. Is it stupid to have love on par with such a basic force of nature? Well, take it up with God if you’re pissed about it, cause that’s just how things are.  

It ends, and so it turns bitter, and it all feels like it was for nothing, like you gave it your all while they…holy hell, why did you give them everything if they couldn’t give you a single damn thing, not even one word, you were worth one goddamn word, anything, something… it was all for something, right?

Well, they haven’t been here for awhile now, but that touch hasn’t quite faded yet; it haunts everything, every new meeting, every new experience is somehow still touched by her; she’s not there, but he still feels here memory, as fresh as a sunburn at the end of July, roasting every day throughout August to ruin a perfectly good life.

So is anything waiting for you now? Is someone waiting to save you, or is someone waiting for you on the other side? Is God waiting for you to ask for help, or waiting for you to give up? Waiting is just an excuse, like everything else, but it’s the only thing keeping you grounded – and so gravity was replaced with a tainted love that burned into a bitter something, a something so strong not even years could erase its touch, and so the burns never healed, and time stopped because you stopped it, all of it, and now you are waiting for your time to start again…

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

The Daily Adventures of Taylor Finn! Day 9 – “If nothing else, at least you are consistent with your bullshit”

8/29/2018 – It’s a cloudy mess outside this office window, but even so the August humidity refuses to let up. The heat on the other side of that glass is enough to distort a few inches of air sitting atop the parking lot pavement, burning out the cracks that run through that blacktop, stripping them of their usual collection of weeds, leaving only spotty yellow lines to break up the otherwise charcoal landscape. The dry air is turning my body into glass. My legs, my hands, even my hair feels like it’s turning into uncooked spaghetti. With such a brittle body, it should come as no surprise that this Summer has been another record year for me.

That’s right! This summer I have managed to surpass all of my previous 27 summers of being alive to reach a new level! I’ve finally broken the 200 barrier! I’m in the +200 club! Hooray! I knew all those years ignoring my running shoes and eating nothing but flaming hot Cheetos would eventually earn me this amazing feat of human perseverance!

If you haven’t guessed yet, when I’m talking about reaching the next level, I am referring to the effect of Earth’s gravity on my person. More specifically, I am calculating the impact of the Earth’s gravitational pull in relation to my mass. The result is a number recorded using a unit of weight under the system of imperial units, the preferred system of the United States of America.

What I’m trying to say is, HOLY MOTHER OF JESUS, I WEIGH OVER 200 POUNDS, also known in my family as “a metric fuck ton”.

I’m not surprised, but I want to be surprised. This has been creeping up on me ever since I graduated from college. My life, while not exactly active before, has turned into a game where I see how long I can go without breaking a sweat. I’m stuck in a swivel chair for 8-9 hours in my corner cubicle, where my only movement comes from typing in numbers, clicking on other numbers, and the occasional trip to take a shit while getting paid. It’s the epitome of the American dream, honestly. Heart attacks in my early 40’s and type 2 diabetes, here I come!

But really, I am a solid 205. What the fuck. Why in the fuck do I weigh over 200 pounds? When did I let this fucking happen? That’s rhetorical, as I already explained that above, but I still struggle to comprehend. I know I was letting myself go, but this is a whole other level of giving up. This is being so inactive that I am actively digging myself an early grave.

It’s disgusting.

I’m disgusting.  

I seriously need some change, or the next time I have a mental breakdown, my body will break too, and then it will be to late… or maybe that’s what I really want…to have no way to climb back up… maybe I just want everything permanently…

Break.

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

Can I call you? I know I shouldn’t be asking that, because I’m trying to forget you, but it’s hard. I want to drown out your noise with some music, but it’s doing nothing for me. At the end of the day all I want to hear is your voice, right next to me…

Parting lips push on the air, carrying the weight of your words towards my person. It used to be that the air you gave to me was the lightest thing in the universe. I could float on the things you said to me, glide next to the secrets you entrusted me with. It’s sad to think about that feeling now, because I can only think about what it must have been like. I’ve lost the feeling, and you’ve lost gentle words for me…no, it’s not that you lost them, it’s that I made you take them all back.

So where do I go from here?

I want to blame you. I want to blame you for this heavy burden, for my lack of self-respect, for my need to fall apart. I want to place it all squarely on your shoulders. I want to convince myself that this extra weight was your fault, so it should be your burden.

Except I know it’s not your fault.

This weight is normal gravity, I’ve just broken my own back, so I can’t stand up for myself. You stole nothing, you just stopped accepting things from me, because I had nothing left to offer that would appeal to anybody. You added nothing more to my burden. I wasted myself away into paper-thin ribbon, then threw that ribbon into the sky. I watched as the winds died and my ribbons fell. I watched as the rainy streets soaked each strip, then carried them along the curb and down into the sewer. And while I watched my dreams drown I was struck with only one thought:

I don’t care what happens to me anymore.

I have deleted every contact in my phone. I paid off my car loan and ensured I have enough money in the bank to cover my rent through the year. I made sure every gift and souvenir I once held dear was given a new home. I wrote my parents a letter, so they should be okay. I wrote my brother and sister a separate note, so they should be there to comfort our parents. I’ve written a letter for my friends, so they will know they are all wonderful people, which they should already know, but I want to make 100% sure. Finally, I wrote a letter to myself. It was the easiest piece of writing I’ve ever created, because what else do I really need to say to me? I know the who, what, when, where and why, so a long letter is not needed. All I need are simple words for a simple man, to capture my life in 1 sentence, and then I’ll be off. So to sleep I go, leaving this final sentence as my legacy:

It wasn’t all bad, and you tried your best, and know you have earned this nice, long rest.