There is no happiness in the world, just a series of paths that grow progressively darker as more time passes. In the end, it culminates into something so black, you can’t see anything moving forward, and you can’t see anything when you look back, so your left choking on empty memories, and in that dark womb you’ll wonder if anything has ever happened to you that would have made life worth experiencing this cruel, crushing, relentless weight… And even at the end, when I have nothing left but pain and regret, I close my eyes and somehow catch a glimpse of who I used to be. It’s only a reflection, but it’s real, and I know that at some point in my life I was able to smile…but this is a reflection, so I can’t ignore the eyes in which I see the reflection… At the end of all things, where I’m alone in a universe that doesn’t care, I can’t go to sleep without seeing your face…and it hurts…it hurts so goddamn much…
My lover, the crescent moon,
A lunar light who wanes
As my time passes,
But never fully fades.
I’ve carved my soul
To match your curves;
The sight of which
Heralds me to your evening.
Waiting through midnight
For a shift in the nebula,
I seek neither the secrets
Of the shaded sky,
Nor the calming whisper
Of a trillion stars;
I am fixated solely on your luster.
Perhaps the truth is that
I am more water than man,
As you can pull me
Away from my shores,
Knowing I’ll always rush back
When you call.
Ah, my crescent moon,
The loveliest of thieves,
Snaring your shine from the Sun,
And fashioning a heart
From this foolish man
Made from the Sea.
I am yours.
By my very nature
I can never deny you,
Not a single drop.
My crescent Moon,
There will never come to pass
A moment in this life
Where I could ever
Tell you no.
I wanted us to be happy, but I also had an unhealthy definition of happiness. I thought of everything we were, and made it into everything you were. I did things that might make you smile, wrote poems that would light up your eyes. I was content to make your happiness my happiness.
But that just showed how little I understood about life, love, and friendship . You loved me, I know you did, so what would happen to you if you continued to see me giving up my everything just for you? I know you wanted to shower me in love, but I didn’t give you a chance. That affection turned into addiction, and nothing I did was ever done with myself in mind. That’s unhealthy, and of course this made you unhappy. But I couldn’t stop. I should have stopped, and the rational part of my brain was probably screaming at me to stop.
But I was gone.
I turned my love into conditioning, and before I knew it the only thing I could offer to you were the things you already wanted. I couldn’t grow with you, which meant my love couldn’t grow, our love couldn’t grow. Loving somebody is complicated at times, but at its core love is about sharing. I didn’t want to share anything with you, I wanted to smother you in my twisted fantasy. I wanted you to ask me for more and more, until things came full circle and I was demanding that you demand more from me.
Today I found myself thinking about you, and about where you might be. Than I thought about myself and where I’m at right now. I have no idea how I got to this point. How many mistakes have I made in the past 5 years? And how many of those mistakes were done with the intention of sabotaging my chance at happiness? But more pressing than my trip down memory lane is the immediate question:
“Am I happy now?”
Well, I’m happier today than I was yesterday. I think my weekend was a tad bit happier than yesterday, and I know that 2 weeks ago I was so unhappy that I wound up in the mental health ward of my local hospital after my boss called 911, worried about the last text I sent. It included my resignation and reason for quitting, which was something along the lines of “I don’t deserve to be paid for the shit work I do. I’m not the right person for this role and I don’t want to hold you back. You don’t need to cut my last paycheck, just think of it as a fine for being that asshole who can’t even put in a proper 2 week notice.”
This November has been noticeably worse than last years, which was just a tad bit worse than the year before that. I don’t remember November from 4 years ago, but I also can’t imagine things ever being good. I know things must have been good…at some point I must have been happy…right?
“Am I happy now?”
I’m…alive? I am working again, and I am writing again. And that writing has lead to me making some submissions for publication. Alas, I was submitting poems, essays and short stories to various journals, magazines and contests, only to be rejected 99 times out of 100
I’m not sure if I’m happy right now. If I had to give it a score, I’d say my life reflects my recent submissions for publication; 99% of the time I know my life is garbage, because I’m a fucking landfill. But there’s still one, one tiny reason to hope. I wouldn’t call it happiness, but I’m out of options, and who knows? Maybe when you’re as empty as me, it’s better to make a bet on a slim hope rather than trying to stretch out that last, decaying piece of happiness to last me the rest of my life.
I want fortune to listen
As I struggle with my speech,
To flinch as the words reveal
Scar after scar.
My words resonate regret,
And as all moisture
Evaporates in my throat,
Every note is coated
In varying shades
Of a screeching rust.
I spent my summer melting,
My autumn fearing another fall.
The new year was a blanket
Of snow and cumbersome guilt.
A spring sun demanded I begin,
But all of my roots were dead,
My branches devoid of green.
So I wasted the Suns generosity;
I still received it’s light,
But without the strength to blossom
It just created a gilded shell.
And that’s it all there is;
I’m just painted gold,
Paper money in the wind;
I hold no value except for
The values others place on me.
So I am buried,
Hiding from any hint of rain
Lest my colors start to bleed.
I’m afraid of the smallest storms,
And nothing, not even time,
Can stop me from withering away.
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..
“You say that it hurts to be alone, but you are the one pushing aside your phone when it lights up, ignoring every invite from friends and family to go out or come over. You aren’t making an effort, so can you really say that being alone hurts?”
~It’s not being alone that hurts. I know I’m making this, a conscience decision, and it’s that feeling of giving up on me even when others haven’t that feels so Goddamned awful.~
“So it’s being self aware that causes you so much pain?”
~I can see that I’m not alone…that I’m not at rock bottom…but I feel like I should be. After all that I’ve done, and all that I haven’t, I’ve earned loneliness.~
“But being alone isn’t something you just decide for yourself. When you make that decision, you are making it both for yourself and those who want you in their lives.”
~And I want to say it’s the guilt, the unrelenting feeling of failure, that keeps me making the same, selfish decisions over and over and over…but no…that’s simply an excuse. I can say I don’t want to hurt others all I want, that it’s my desire that they all remain happy and healthy without me, but the only truth that matters is I am ignoring what they want to satisfy my own desire for punishment. And that guilt leads me further down this rabbit hole, cycling again and again and again AND AGAIN! IT NEVER ENDS, I JUST KEEP ON WANTING TO LET OTHERS DOWN, TO GIVE THEM A REASON TO HATE ME, BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, TO GIVE ME SOMETHING FRESH TO HATE ABOUT MYSELF! SO IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT MY REASONING IS! IT DOESN’T MEAN A FUCKING THING! IT DOESN’T!!!...It doesn’t matter…I’m picking self-hatred over their happiness…and nothing could be more disgusting than that…~
“…You want to hate yourself…that’s what you want? You want a reason for everything that has happened. You want meaning, because otherwise, what was it all for, right? What were all those nights spent doing laundry, desperately trying to wash off those dark red streaks for? What were all those days spent in a haze, throwing up regret only to purchase another bottle on the way home from work for? What were those nights spent sitting in the shower, fully clothed and freezing, watching as the blood tinged the water red, unable to take your eyes of that crimson river, what were those for?”
~They weren’t for anything. I already know…they weren’t for anything…if they were, then I would have found it by now.~
“That’s not the answer.”
~It’s my answer.~
“That’s not your final answer.”
~It’s the answer I came to, after using up all 3 of my lifelines, and having 2 choices in front of me, A or B. And I picked C, because I didn’t want any fucking chance to walk away…~
“But you’re still walking.”
“You’re still walking, and breathing.”
~The pills are starting to kick in, so breathing might become a bit more difficult here in a few minutes.~
“You’re still walking, and breathing, and living.”
~This…me…I’m not living; This isn’t fucking…You idiot, you fucking idiot…this isn’t…THIS ISN’T FUCKING ANYTHING!~
“You’re still walking, and breathing, and living, and screaming, and crying, and falling, and failing, and breaking, and cutting, and overdosing, and..”
~AND FUCKING NOTHING! I AM FUCKING NOTHING, NOTHING BUT A PATHETIC WASTE!!~
“…And you are still hurting, and loathing, and running, and..”
~JUST SHUT IT, SHUT THE FUCK UP, SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP!~
“…And you are still here.”
~…why am I still…~
“Isn’t that really what you want? Not reasons to hate yourself, but a reason to live?”
~I don’t deserve something like..~
“Funny thing is, nobody asked you if you deserved it! Nobody asked if you wanted it, and nobody will ask you to give it back! It’s not fair, and it’s messy and difficult and maybe it’s not going to end up feeling like it was worth it at all! But YOU ARE STILL HERE!”
~It’s a joke…all of this is one big fucking joke.~
“Maybe. Maybe God hates you. Maybe God thinks this is funny. Hell, you might even be the main character in some weird, God produced sitcom, and the entirety of the Heavens are laughing at your expense. But none of that matters. At the end of the day you are still here, right here.”
~I’m only here because I’m too weak to pull the trigger.~
“And that’s still a reason.”
~Not a very good reason for living though, huh? I’m to much of a piece of shit to end it, so I just keep dragging my feet all over creation.~
“It’s not a stellar endorsement, but it’s a starting point.”
~It’s not the reason I want.~
“Meaning you don’t just want any old reason, but you want your reason to live.”
~…I’ll never find it.~
“But you’re still here, so you must not have given up completely, right?”
~I’m 99% there, at the end.~
“One out of one hundred. One out of one thousand. One out of one trillion. The odds make no difference. You still have the chance, a chance for a chance, a chance for that chance to dream.”
~…it still hurts…so much…~
“I know, I do, trust me, I know.”
~…I don’t have the energy to save myself…~
“But you have the energy to take a shower, and brush your teeth, and crawl under the covers. That sounds like a pretty good start, right?”
~It could be worse.~
~…will you stay with me?~
“…For a long as I can.”
~Thank you…I hate being alone…it’s so cold…~
“Just get some sleep, okay? Tomorrow will be here before you know it.”
~I don’t need tomorrow to come…but it will come anyway, right?~
“You’re starting to learn.”
~…please, don’t leave me…~
“…Get some sleep, okay?”
~I don’t want you to leave…please don’t make this goodbye, not again…~
“…It’s not a goodbye, just a goodnight. Goodnight Taylor…and sweet dreams…”