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

I can do my own taxes, and can legally rent a car, but today for lunch I had a handful of diner mints, and while filling out a form for a new credit card I forgot my new address. So I’m sort of grown up, but maybe not so much.

Nobody just becomes an adult because they want to. Sure, people can try to be an adult, but honestly, it’s not something you can control. One day you’re a kid, and the next day that’s all over, and you are an adult from that point forward. It’s not sad or painful, at least not all the time, but it’s not something you can just will to happen, it just does.

So trying to judge yourself on the basis of whether or not you are a real adult is sort of silly, although I’m sure everybody has felt like a “bad” adult, or that they need to “grow up”. But people don’t grow up, do they? No, people don’t grow up, they just…grow.

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 not surprised by many things anymore, which would explain why you managed to shake me to my core.”

You were everything I never knew could exist in a soul. You were a soft sunset, yet you never lost any of your radiance. You made the end of every day something to look forward to. I had no idea a person could actually look forward to tomorrow without even a hint of fear. You wove hope into your shine, and the sky itself responded with a brilliant display of the infinite possibilities contained within person’s light.

It took time, and then some more time, and it will assuredly take the rest of the time laid out in front of me, but I won’t give up, not anymore. I’ll spend every second I have in pursuit of the person you showed me, because that’s the type of person I want 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’ve tried leaving my heart free to wander, but everytime…every single time…it always comes back…to you.”

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 would can’t even put in a proper 2 week notice.”

This November has been noticeably worse than last years, which was just a tab 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.

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

It’s as far away as the ends of the ever expanding universe, but also here, in this tiny, 1 bedroom apartment. Hope is always here, you just have to look.

“You know, it’s a big universe out there, so giving up, when there’s no limit to what can happen, that seems a bit premature, wouldn’t you say?”

~But the universe doesn’t care, right? Just because it’s big and limitless doesn’t mean it
has to have carved out a special piece or place or moment just for me~

“You’re right, the Universe doesn’t owe us anything, so there very well might not be a special plan in place for everybody. But that also means there’s no reason for the universe not to have something special planned for us all, right?”

~That something special could have already come and gone. When I look back, think
about the past, I see all those tiny miracles I took for granted. I wasted time and money,
friends and family, and I have nothing to show for it. So why should I think there is more? Or rather, even if there is more, I know I don’t deserve it, so I shouldn’t accept it~

“Ah, you’re assuming the universe thinks like you do? That it has to be balanced? That if it gave you a first chance, and a second chance, that it couldn’t possibly be the right thing to do to give you a third, fourth, one millionth chance?”

~I’m saying the universe is unbalanced, so it’s up to all of us caught up in the chaos to
set rules and limits and impose the rule of law~

“And for you, that rule of law includes a provision that dictates when a person should stop trying?”

~A person should stop trying when trying would be harder than giving up~

“So it’s a matter of effort? It would take effort to start over, to walk back down the paths you’ve already traveled. And it would hurt, to re-live all those moments.”

~It will hurt either way, but giving up will hurt a little less. So really it’s all about pain
Management~

“Giving up will hurt less in the short term, probably, but it offers no chance towards recovery. Trying will hurt, so much so that you won’t be able to hide it at all, but it comes with a special bonus offer; hope.”

~I’m not interested in a bundle deal here. I’m not one to invest their funds into something that might never pan out. I’m careful; methodical. I won’t live on the hope of some hope~

“Hope gets our expectations up, and if those expectations aren’t met it’s crushing. That is a scary prospect, for sure, but there are ways to mitigate that risk. Friends to hold you up and catch you if you fall, family to call at any given moment for any number of reasons, and most of all you still have you, and in the end you don’t want to fail. You might think you deserve to fail, and actively seek out the choices that will ensure you fail, but if you have some hope, even if it’s just hope for some hope, you will still have you.”

~I don’t think I want me~

“I think you are afraid of yourself, which isn’t the same thing as rejecting yourself. You’re afraid that how you see yourself is the only you that exists. But there are so many yous. The you who sings in the shower, using a bottle of shampoo as a microphone. The you who always let’s others merge into your lane during rush hour. The you who might not feel any self-love, but is nonetheless loved by many.”

~I didn’t ask them to love me~

“And yet they do, because they aren’t bound by your rule of law. They have the choice, and they choose to love you, regardless of anything and everything you think.”

~I don’t owe them anything, I didn’t ask for anything, so I’m not obligated to do anyt..~

“You aren’t obligated to do a Goddamn thing! Not for them! You don’t owe it to them, at all! You owe it to yourself! You owe it to every version of you, from the child you were to the adult you fear in your reflection! You owe them!”

~..I wouldn’t even know where to begin.~

“You don’t need to decide on a where, or a how, or a when to being, you just begin.”

~Just like that? It’s that simple? It’s that easy? To forget everything and start over?~

“You don’t need to forget, you don’t have to start over again at zero. You can just start.”

~And what happens, when I start?~

“Everything.”