Becoming Nothing More

We’ve all got our reasons to be here tonight. Every night. For some of us it is our crippling lack of wealth. For others it has evolved into the only way we know how to live. A violent transformation of shit. A hurricane with no eye. We spin and spin watching the world go by in a blur. We learn things too late or not at all. We are at war? We are on the verge of going bankrupt? We are to be fired? News of the world is nothing and means nothing. There is always a job to do. Most everything beyond that comes as a surprise though we could never really understand the word at this point.

Numb, depressed, destructive these are words we can understand. These are words we live and believe in at this moment and time. My fear however is that they will be replaced with home, suicidal, destroyed. Blending into the madness is hard at first. At first everything is difficult. Time has a way of breaking you in. Grinding you down into the monsters we have become. Humanity, justice, sleep are all lost on us. The very idea of those words disappear in the darkness of our minds. I’ve given up hope that they will return anytime soon. From what little I can recall of the words and their ideas, the thoughts they convey, only make you weak.

Weakness will kill you in this prison of freedom. We remind ourselves that there is always something worse, but is there? The day walkers ask us if we are able to balance life at work and at home. We lie something we all have become masters at. We lie and say we can. We hope this lie will free us, but it never does. How can we maintain lives with little to no sleep? Am I alive? Yes. Do I live a life? Can you repeat the question? Hobbies become sleep. Self-worth becomes units per hour. Desperation becomes an everyday occurrence. They push us harder into the madness. More cases, new product, revolving door of people, shorter deadlines, and on and on. “Never good enough. Should have been done already. Maybe if you were faster. Don’t worry we are getting some more new people in here.” The quotes and shit they say goes on and on. Hate the day walkers. Fear the day walkers. Wish you too could become a day walker.

Though after what we have been through how could we ever quit, walk away, do something else, and then what would have all this been for? Start at the bottom again. Start over with nothing. Start over damaged. The company is a good company to work for I’m told. They pay you well. How do you like it? What can I say? So I say nothing and harbor my pain and sorrow. Could always be worse. Worse than feeling not good enough each and every night. Worse than a nightly reassurance that my worthlessness has driven me beyond a point. A point I will never return from. Becoming nothing more than destroyed, suicidal, and at home.

About Time I Suppose

I always feel the need to do something more tangible. Something a little more personal. The thought washes over me like a wave. A tide that I’m slowly drowning in until well here we go. Recently I finally purchased my own little piece of where ever the hell I am now. You are all welcome to never come over so, knowing where that is, is irrelevant to the situation. Point is that I finally got some land. Not much one to two acres out way from most civilization. Enough to pretend that nothing else exists, but still close enough to get decent internet.

I even got all the things needed to take care of the land. Riding lawnmower, a weed eater, and whatever else. I got everything I tell everyone who might ask though no one ever does. The problem is though I don’t like to be outside. I like the idea of being outside, but never see the point of being out there. It’s like how I like the idea of walking around naked in my house, but I don’t because it’s not practical. What if someone comes over? We’ve spent hundreds of years perfecting inside. Why the fuck would I want to go outside? Needless to say the yard has become over grown and there is a fine layer of dust over all the things I needed to make sure that this didn’t happen.

Letting the yard go was a mistake. Not because there might be snakes or rodents or even monster out there. Who the fuck knows I don’t go outside. It was a mistake because apparently despite my best efforts I do have neighbors and they have a son. Nothing unusual, nothing too strange about having a child. I have one or whatever. The problem is that they saw my laziness as an opportunity for their son to take on a challenge. Never a great start because who the fuck what’s to do something their parents want them to do? I’d be a doctor by now if I had listen to my parents, but things work out how they work out. Or as my mother likes to remind me, “There’s still time.”  I’m half dead. There is barely time to do what I am already doing.

So I hired the kid because his parents were brave enough to knock on my door and speak to me for more than thirty seconds. Yes, that’s all it takes. Anything to get them away from my house. I would have given them the keys to the house if that would have been an option, but my family needs a place to stay. They are weak and too afraid of what is in the tall grass. “Sad,” a quote we can all use now. So the kid comes over once a week to cut my grass and watch me walk around naked in my house. It was awkward at first, but there might be things out there lurking in the grass.

Choking On The Feeling

Do you ever feeling like there is no place for you in the world or that you think you know your place, but maybe that really isn’t your place? My cousin recently graduated from the Marines. Horrible pick for employment given the current leader. The point is though that for as long as I can remember anything about him he wanted to be a solider.

From a young age, the last time I happen to even see him, he knew his place in the world. Good or bad choice aside he wanted that and he got it. I don’t have any feelings for him. No sense of lost memories. We could pass each other on the street tomorrow and I’d keep walking, but I feel so happy for him right now. I am happy he has found a place and a place he wants to be. I’m about to turn thirty and I have no place. So sense of purpose in this world. I want to be writer, but I have my doubts.

Growing up all I ever wanted to do was do something in music. Having no talent, no friends to piggy back on, and no aptitude to even learn an instrument I dove into the part I was good at. Writing lyrics became writing poems. Writing poems became telling stories. It took a long time, but that is where I am now. Trying to write stories to find my purpose. At this moment in time I have published nothing, sold nothing, and with every passing day doubt myself and any talent I might have. I don’t even know another writer. Part of the reason I wanted to be a writer is that I could do it on my own. Which is becoming less and less true as time goes on.

It takes a village or so I hear, but what does it take if you don’t have one? What am I fighting for if there is no hope of winning? I have everything I want, well need, I want a lot of shit I don’t need, but writing didn’t get me the things that I wanted. The people around me did. My mom, my wife, my daughter, and the guy who hired me at my current job provided me the opportunities to be where I am today.

Lost, but still here. I hope writing pans out. I hope it is my place in this world. Not really sure I have enough time to find another and start working towards that from the ground up. Maybe I am thinking about it too much? My cousin was only a kid when he said he wanted to be a solider and technically he is three months in to his place in life. Five years from now he might not even want to be a solider. I’m fifteen years into mine and all I want to be is a writer. Well a good father, a good husband, and a good son. Sometimes it may feel like we have no place in the world, but all that means is that we aren’t done fighting yet.

Really Lost the Meaning

Locked in a box that is known as America. It is easy to pick out the problems that each of us faces on a daily biases. Rich or poor we are always finding faults in the way that we live. Continuously we bring these faults on ourselves. The rich blame the poor and the poor blame the rich for each and every one of their problems. It is easy to see how we have gotten here over time. How each and every great nation, country, or whatever bull shit you want to call it has gotten here. Flipped through history and you will find countless tales of the same issues. Immigration, security, taxes, lack of education, etc. These problems we are faced with are not new or even that interesting anymore because they will always be problems. Someone always has to be the one with the short stick.

Call it God, call it fate, call it the devil’s own way, but whatever you call it, it is still there. What’s interesting is the lack of understanding of the problems and why we are faced with them. Most if not all of us would be okay with all of it if it was only a little bit fairer. Granted I understand that giving an inch will only lead to a mile, but honestly the top 1% control the bottom 99%. I wonder what kind of world we would be living in if it was more 60/40 or even 70/30? It would feel like a god damn utopia for at least what 2000 more years? Who the fuck knows. What is known is that there will always be someone above you, over you, or fucking you in some way.

This called a constant and the way of the world. Won’t change no matter what primitive cousin to the primate we put in charge. Man will find a way to fuck it up. We will find a way to destroy it because we still haven’t figured out how to fix it. The whole history book thing. Though we are getting better at drawing it out so, I guess that is something to be proud of. Still hoping we can figure out the whole bathroom issue sometime soon.

I feel like this is really holding us up as a society. We could do what they do in Japan and just have every public restroom be a hole in the ground. No that would be too simple and the legislation too short. What is a bill or a law if it isn’t over a thousand pages making sure it disenfranchises at least one person? Hippie propaganda.  Really lost the meaning of what I was trying to say here at about the second sentence.

America has problems, yes. So does every other nation in history up until now. Some have gotten some of it right and others don’t have a fucking clue as to what the word right even means. There are continents with major issues. Looking at you Africa. Seriously what the fuck? I mean the continent has a serious anti-homosexual stance which is fucked up enough. This alone would be like hey we need to talk about some stuff here. Please take a seat. But then on top of all that they are also mutilating innocent little girls because? They are fucking up vaginas while having a serious problem with homosexuals. That’s beyond we need to talk. That’s some dark shit. I never met the man, but I feel like even Ted Bundy would be like that’s a little too far or he’d clap. Really could go either way with that example. Do you like women or hate them? So confused on the overall message a large part of Africa is trying to get across. Where do you transition from there I’m not too sure.

Slave labor in other countries, human trafficking, mass starvation, or religious extremists? Honestly I can’t get over the bathroom issue and how unjustified it is. Something needs to be done god damn it. We invented greatness (patent pending) and we can solve this problem. We need to solve this problem before it ends up like another one of those big-ticket issues such as abortion or global genocide. I mean are we not heading to another civil war or are we not heading to another civil war. The chaos and panic in the streets is horrific and must be stopped. I mean we could put in place a higher minimum wage, free higher education, and free healthcare. I personally know that having a billion dollars is not enough to live a comfortable and sustaining life. I need every one of those dollars for things. Things made by people I don’t pay or care about. It’s a cycle but it looks more like a pile of shit. Luckily I happen to be on top of it. Make America great again? How about taxing the rich again? Are you out of your mind?

Broken Up Thoughts

They are trying to convince a generation built on speed, built on now to go slower on the streets. They might as well convince a dog to shit in the toilet. All of the skills are there but the instinct? Not so much. No one wants to go slower. If anything they want to go faster. Walk faster, talk faster, and be done faster. No one wants to do anything that takes time. This generation or the last. We are not designed to live in the now only the future. Even if that means a chance at death. Life itself is a chance at death.

 

He had so much anger growing up. I saw it right away. I knew I was going to have to do something so I told him, “You don’t hit anyone ever. You never hit a woman, a man, a child I don’t care who it is you never hit anyone” “But I want to dad,” he would say. “I know you do son but you don’t that’s life. You get in this ring though and you knock them the fuck out.” That’s what I would tell my son. That’s the strength I put in him. They say rich kids don’t fight and they’re wrong. Some people are born with this rage, this passion, this anger and money don’t have a fucking thing to do about it. If they don’t channel it. If they don’t get it out it consumes them. Destroys them and I wasn’t about to let that happen to my boy or anyone else.

 

Day in, day out, 9 to 5, 9 to whenever, however you want to put getting fucked. I am lost within myself. Lost in the dark. The theme is something I carry with me every second of every day. The lights all burned out. No longer even a flicker of a flame. Absolute dark. If only I could get beyond this. Step into the figurative illusion of this so-called light I’m missing in my life. Maybe then. Maybe somehow I could be who it is I always dreamed I could be. Then again maybe it will all one day come together for us all. I doubt it, but that could very well be who I am. In the end we all have something to say. In the end we all have our place in obscurity. We all have our own personal hell to wander through.

Faith For All That Is Left

Faith is a question we ask ourselves. An idea we question every thought and every action with. We do this based on faith that we are doing the right thing, that we are justified in our faith. But where does this faith come from? Does it come from religion or are we in fact born with this idea of faith. The question feeds itself over and over. The idea burns itself into our brains until it no longer matters which came first, but that we have faith at all. Over and over again we battle with ourselves and with each other. Over and over again. A constant battle of who is right and who is wrong. No one on earth is right and no one on earth is wrong, but in fact they are both.

Society states this and society states that, but who is this society? Where did this all start or where did all of this come from? A question as dense as the question of faith. The written word passes down information from generation to generation. Therefore passing the idea of society down with it. A giant game of telephone that eventually found its way to stone, to paper. Even words written in stone are really nothing more than an interpretation of an idea that began long ago. Nothing is permanent. Nothing can last.  Our words will change and evolve. Our world will change and evolve. Thoughts and ideas of today will not be the same a hundred years from now. Or will they? Will we or can we reach a point that the words we write, speak, or believe actually have a definitive meaning?

Unlikely giving the history of man or the will of man to manipulate words to their own will. It falls again on society. We have no real way of knowing where our society comes from. We can trace the pages of course, scour the library looking for such information, but in the end all this trail leads us to nothing more than theories. No one knows how this great society truly started. We can see the snowball effect of it all, but the very begin, the first spark? No one knows. Yet, somehow some way it is in there.

It is in our brains. Maybe even in our DNA. Quite possibly society and faith are etched into our very souls. Over lapping one another in the double helix that is us. Coming together to form the basis of our ideas or our way of life. However it may be or may not be in the end no amount of faith in society can provide a sustainable future. Corruption, greed, humanity will find a way to destroy everything. Proving once again that these two things have no answer, have no meaning. It is only a matter of time before everything falls apart. Nothing is forever. Nothing is permanent. Have faith in that.

In Case I Go Missing

I can’t get that girl out of my mind. “Remember my face,” fucking useless words etched into my brain forever. Well maybe the rest of the week, but the next few days all I will be thinking about is, is she alive or dead. I’m sure every once in a while I’ll think of her again but I won’t care as much as I do now. Though to be honest it is the statement that has me thinking about her not so much her as a person.

“Remember my face,” Fucking why? “Taking a ride from someone I don’t know.” What are you running from? Why do people do this to themselves? I don’t care I want to scream, but of course I do and I will have to until something else distracts my mind. A moment is a moment to a writer. It becomes something greater as a whole because it is strange and strange is interesting.

It is an unanswered conversation that plays over and over in our heads. Consumes and relates to every decision or thought. There are way too many possibilities behind something as small as coincidence. A life time of decisions in a thirty-second conversation. “In case I go missing,” who puts themselves in situations that they may not return from? How do you not know that this isn’t the right thing to do? What could it be that you are running from?

The past and the future haunts us all, and it is called the present. Can’t out run any of this. Doesn’t stop anyone from trying though. I hope she is still alive, but I stand by what I told her. “Your actions are your own.” If I really cared I would have said more. I didn’t so I guess I don’t.