No, I Am Life

“You know she is going to leave you.”

“I know this.”

“Yet you stay?”

“Things are going to work out the way they work out whether you want them to or not. Fate is fate and no matter what information one may have it can’t be changed.”

“You know how tragic that sounds?”

“I am more aware than you could possibly imagine. Having already seen it, having already felt it there is no worse fate than to keep on living with the knowledge of things to come.”

“You should just get out of this. Change your fate if you truly have the power to do so.”

“Useless time and energy spent on a useless resolution for one cannot change their fate. No matter how hard someone tries. She will leave me and not for some time. Her actions will leave me in a condition far worse than death, but I am expected to rise back up from this.”

“You are stupid.”

“No, I am life and she will be death. Have you not been paying attention?”

“You live in another world beyond ours I take it.”

“You mock me because you don’t understand. You mock me because you are afraid I may have news for you.”

“Do you know something you are not telling me?”

“I’d be lying if I told you no, but I’m afraid it is the only answer I have for you.”

The Date Rapist

“You can’t sit there,” a voice out of nowhere exclaims. “Why the fuck not?” I ask into the darkness. “There is a rapist on the loose. Well a date rapist or something like that. He might even be you. I don’t know,” the voice without a face says. “Why is it always a man? How come it is never some big breasted, sexy woman who is out to get everyone using nothing but her vagina to seek revenge? Always a man and his oh so powerful dick coming to wreak havoc on the world,” I huff. I still haven’t managed to look for the source of the voice. It has to belong to a woman. “Are you serious right now?” She asks. I don’t bother responding. “Women can’t rape men. Everyone knows that. How the hell would that even work anyways? Rape is an act of anger and hate forced onto an individual that isn’t willing to participate sexually,” she informs me. “What are you a fucking dictionary?” I ask. “Know what it doesn’t matter because you are wrong. A woman can rape a man in more ways than one. Just because their dick is hard doesn’t mean that they want to have sex. That is the same as saying because a woman was all wet it means she wanted it. She wanted it so badly. We are programmed to fuck in a subconscious level even if we don’t want to,” I interject.  “You are raping my ears right now with your dirty talk,” the voice says. “Then you have the whole other level of raping that doesn’t even involve dicks. I mean anything can be inserted into an anus from a finger to an action figure. So really to say a woman can’t rape a man is wrong. She can if she really wanted to. Granted she would have to overpower the man, but the same drugs men use to accomplish their goal are also available to women. Let’s face it though most men are little bitches now a days anyways so, really a woman might not even need drugs in the first place,” proudly proving my point. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She asks in disgust. “Hey you brought up the topic of rapist and some ignorant shit about how women couldn’t possibly be one,” I answer. “Oh so now I am ignorant because I don’t believe a woman can rape a man. That sounds real intelligent. You are so smart I wish I could be as smart and stupid as you. I was just trying to be safe and now I’m the bad guy,” She had more to say but gets interrupted. “Excuse me do we have a problem here?” A male voice asks from out of no where. “Oh fuck,” we both exclaim in unison. I reach for my pepper spray. Spraying the little can in no general direction towards the male voice. She apparently had the same idea as me. We don’t stop spraying until our cans are empty. The pepper spray mist cloud clears and we stand there watching as the man lies on the ground kicking and screaming. The strong stench of urine coming up from where he lays. There is a dark outline growing around the crotch of his uniform that becomes visible even in the shallow light of the street lamp. “I’m a fucking cop,” he screams rubbing his eyes. “What do we do?,” I shout before dropping the can of pepper spray. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” a big breasted and sexy woman suggests. To scarred to do anything else we run into the darkness to afraid to look back.

Awaken

Blood drips from the walls, “Awaken.” Blood drips from the walls as shadows dance above me. They take the form of hooded nightmares, “Awaken.” They chant over and over for no reason at all until I obey. Shaking I reach for the glass on the nightstand. Straight whiskey and straight down. The whiskey makes me what to puke, even after all this time, to the point that I don’t know if I have or it is only the burn of the liquor. I light a cigarette as I sit up in bed. I can still hear their words just as I did as a child. “Awaken,” they chant but why? Why always the same nightmare from my past. The darkness of the room subsides as I put out the half-finished cigarette. I want to sleep but I want to reach for the light just as much. A darkness resides in me. A darkness I am no closer to understanding even into adulthood. I begin to drift asleep once again.

The blood drips down the walls of the hall. I hesitate before continuing the cold sticky feel with every step. A low light at the end of the hall grows as I get closer. The blood drips into pools as my eyes focus on the light. I enter the room at the end of the hall. Lite with candles I can see the bodies lying in the corners of the room. Living or dead I do not know. I can feel my pajamas becoming wetter and wetter as I stand there in horror. Scared I ball up on the floor. The figures rise and come towards me as I scream. “Awaken,” they chant as a bounding rhythm comes from beyond. I scream louder and louder until I awake to the sound of my neighbor pounding on the wall. “Awake the fuck up you freak,” he shouts. My pissed soaked pants clinging to my legs. “Fuck you,” I shout back. “Fuck you,” I whisper under my breath.

My therapist says that I should keep a sleep journal. Write down my thoughts and dreams. How I feel. Scared I feel scared and confused. The images don’t leave my mind I tell her every time. A sleep journal is pointless, but all she says is that it will help. Help what? Relive the same nightmare over and over again. My brain hurts from the hangover. My brain hurts from all the thinking. I want to drain my skull and forget it all. Hit the start over and watch it drift away. Can’t sleep without the drink. The drink is what got me in trouble. A cycle of bull shit. I wish I knew where this started. Wish I could remember so I could forget. The day goes on but it is the night that I fear.

Work is hard to come by for a drunk. Another lost job doesn’t mean much when you live in shit hole to begin with. I trade my food stamps for cash. Be easier if they only feed my addiction and not my stomach. I have another interview for some shitty job later today. The interview is easy. It is easy to get the job, but keeping one on no sleep and a deep hangover is the hard part. Even worse when the days bleed together as they have lately. Is today the interview? Or is it tomorrow? Taking another drink. “What does it matter anymore?” I ask no one in particular. A radiant silence feels the room. One more couldn’t hurt.

“Awaken for we are here. Awaken,” the voices chant. A wetness hits my head. Drip after drip, “You must awaken. The demon calls for a sacrifice. Awaken child for it is time.” I awaken as a drop of liquid smacks the center of my forehead. I wipe it clean and even the moonlight that lights my room I can tell that it is blood. Scared I scramble to sit up in my bed. Another drop smacks the top of my head. I look up at the ceiling and scream as I fall out of bed. A large dark spot rests over my bed. I begin to weep as I sit on the floor. What has been done? “Why are you so weak?” A voice from the corner asks. I can see a shadowy figure but can’t make out the features in the dark. “We had so much hope for you. You only failed us in the end,” the figure continues. I want to reach for the light but I am too scared. “Maybe it is because you were the last of them. Could that be why you are so weak? Could that be why you never fulfilled your purpose? Your brothers were no better. Dying in wars or failing after a few murders, but at least they embraced what they were,” the figure pauses. “What,” I finally bring myself to say. The figure ignores what I said, “You seek help and use alcohol like a crutch. So weak you have become. Could it because you are my son? Were we not hard enough on you as we were the others? I question our actions every day. Did we do the right things? Too much faith in one’s actions leads them to failure.” I wipe the tears from my face and only find more blood, “What happened to my neighbors upstairs?” “Don’t you know that after all this time you have awaken?” The figure asks. The scream of a little voice pierces the night air. “It would appear that you have missed one,” the voice states before laughing. “My child the failure.” “I am not your child,” I shout back. “Are you not? Rise and finish what you have started,” the figure shouts back. The screams upstairs have turned to loud sobbing. Without thought I stand up. I try to fight my actions as I grab the bloody knife off the nightstand and leave the room. Slowly ascending the stairs the knife drags against the wall leaving a trail to where I am going. The knife follows a similar path as before. Bloody footprints descends the worn out stairs. My footprints retrace my previous steps. How can I not remember this from before? Entering the apartment I look down the long hallway at the light at the end. A shadow dances from within the room as I continue my march along the path.  Bodies line the sides of the wall execution style. A child wanders around the room crying unable to console herself, unable to understand what has happened. Unable to see the hooded monsters that surround her. From behind me I hear the figure say, “Finish what you have started.”

“I didn’t start this,” I tell the voice. “Of course you did,” the figure laughs. “Who else could have done something like this?” The figure says in its cryptic voice. The unaware child is now aware of me. She walks to me eyes red from the rubbing, from the tears. She stands before me scared, but unsure. “You can’t fight what you are destined to do. Fate has a place whether you believe or not. Best to do what needs to be done,” the figures voice is somber but unapologetic. My body and soul on rails does what I tell it to not. I grab the child by the neck and push her to the ground. Her little body fights it but she contains no equal strength to myself. She hits the hardwood floor with a thud. Terror washes over her face. Even she can sense the danger she is in. I cut the child’s eyes out of her skull. I weep for my sins.  As I listen to her screams it becomes so clear that everything has led up to this. I slit her throat and watch as her little heart push the blood out of her throat until there is no more strength. Flashes of the past enter my mind. Face after face I realize the monster I have become, the monster I have always been. “In the darkness child is when we learn what we truly are. In the darkness is when our true self awakens,” the cryptic voice lingers in my mind. “Awaken.”

Always Going To Wonder

“Do you ever thing about reincarnation?”

“In what sense?”

“Maybe we are the reincarnation of our ancestors. So we really are living our lives over and over like a messed up version of purgatory.”

“I’m not even sure how that would work. What if your family line ends?”

“Then your family line ends. Would explain our need to multiply. Each birth is another chance at life.”

“Then where do the extra people come from?”

“I don’t know. Okay lets say that if your family line ends then you join another family somewhere else and start over. That could be where the idea of soul mates comes from.”

“I think that the idea of soul mates is dumb enough on its own let alone to be part of your crazy theory.  Honestly it seems like you are pulling this whole thing out of your ass.”

“A theory by any other name,” a long pause. “Okay, but I’m just saying it could be part of it. It doesn’t have to be, but it could be. You could even through in the whole idea that you can’t take anything with you when you die. Eventually you very well might get it back.”

“So long as you are born in the same family. What if you die as a child? What happens then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ll admit it was strange that we tried for so long and it wasn’t until my grandmother passed that our daughter was born.”

“So you think that she contained the soul of your lost grandmother?”

“Well I don’t think this I’ve only just thought of this theory.”

“The question still remains what happens if you die as a child? Why isn’t she here anymore?”

“I don’t know.”

 

Plus One

“What do you mean you don’t understand?” She asks as if there is really some secret to her madness. “I just don’t get it. First you say I have to go, and now that I want to go you’re telling me I can’t go as if I have a real choice in the matter.” “Well I just don’t want you there okay?” “Why? Because it is some sort of girl thing?” “It’s my bachelorette party so yes it is a girl’s only type of thing.” “I’m going to be there for the marriage so is it really that big of a deal that I go to the party?”  “It’s a huge deal Steven. This party is for me not you.” “Well it’s kind of for me too,” I interrupt. “No it does not have anything to do with you. It is my party and I really don’t want you there.” “There’s no reason to get upset at me Stacy. It’s not my fault things worked out this way. It’s hard enough that you’re getting married and I’m still single.” “Well how do you think I feel about? Don’t you think that this whole situation is even more stressful to me? Regardless though you’re not coming and that is final.” “So what am I suppose to do? Sit outside? Where is this stupid party even at?” “My party’s not stupid and it’s going to be here at the house which means you are going to have to sit behind the curtain.” “Sounds like a blast. Is Stan at least going to be here?” “What part of it’s a girl thing are you not understanding?” She moans out of annoyance. “I’m so glad we don’t have to share a brain.” “Nope just a stomach and a lung,” I say with a slight sneer. “And for your information I was asking if Stan was going to be on the other side of the curtain with me.” “Okay well still no. Stan will be at his own party because that is what happens when two people get married. They each have their own party’s to celebrate one last day of freedom.” “I know that Stacy. Thanks for clearing that up for me.” “I’m glad and just so we are crystal clear Stan will not be at this party, the house next door, or anywhere near here. You will be behind the curtain, you will be quite, and you will not interfere with my party.” “That’s just great. Not only do I not get to go to the bachelor party, but I have to sit on the other side of a curtain, alone, while you have all the fun.” “Yep, that about sums up your plans for this evening,” she say while laying out the plates and cups for the party. “Do you think one of the ladies will come and sit with me?” I ask in a fake depressed sounding tone. “That’s a big N.O. They all think that you are weird so the chance of one of them leaving the party just to hang out with you is pretty slim.” “Wait they think that I am weird? How could they even think that I am weird? If I am weird than you’re weird too. We share the same body.” “Do we now?” She asks sarcastically. “They think you are weird because you are always staring at them.” “Well that is a very unfair opinion about me since you’re always telling me to be quiet whenever they are around and I’m a guy so of course I’m going to stare every time they want to show you the new under wear they purchased or in the girls locker room.” There’s a knock at the door, “I’ve had enough with this argument Steven. It is time to be quiet the guest are starting to arrive. Will you walk me to the door?” “Do I have a choice?” “Just stay silent and behave Steven, and I will take you to the comic book shop first thing in the morning.” “Fine, but please try to not drink that much. You know how sick I get afterwards.” “I’ll try to refrain from drinking too much. Now zip it or no comics,” she says before putting on her best fake smile and opening the door.

My Return

In some ways it feels as if a part of me is missing and in other ways I feel exactly the same. I hate being apart from her for whatever the reason. The long nights traveling for my job is when I feel it the most. Being on the road is like going through hell and then some. The restless nights lying in a bed of someone else’s filth. They say the beds are clean or at least the card on the pillow states, but are they ever really clean? How does one actually clean up the semen and the sweat that soaks up into the mattress? Sure your nicer establishments have some sort of protection. A mattress condom if you will but the cheaper places? The places I have to stay because my boss cares more about the bottom line than the comfort of the poor bastard who makes that line exist, those places are brimming with semen, sweat, and who knows what else.

I find myself sleeping on the floor most nights on the road. Not that the floors in these skank motels are any cleaner, but I’m less likely to sleep in somebody’s fluids. As I lie on this particular floor on makeshift bed of motel linens I wonder what she is thinking about in our nice comfortable bed. I wonder if she thinks of me or quite simply nothing at all. Another conference in the morning. Another meet and greet with unknown clients. Does well for business though I can’t say the same for my soul. I could say it would be good for me if I was the boss. If I reaped anything from any of this outside of a check. I wonder if I leave tomorrow night or the following morning. Something I should check, but I’m too lazy to get up off the floor. Either way it is just one more shitty flight to an even shitter place. When you are young you want to travel, to see the world, but as you get older and then a little bit more that sense of adventure seems to slip right out of your mind. Now all I want is a chance to make up for all those lost years of traveling, of being apart. Those long night without me by her side. It pains me to think about it. It pains me every time that I see her she has changed a little bit more.

The longer I am gone the farther we grow apart. I miss her and I miss her more whenever we are together. Where did those years go? Did I not live them? Or have I been living in this traveling coma for so long that I simply don’t remember. One thing I do know is that she is still waiting for me. Back home she waits for my arrival and I’m sure my departure. To her I’m sure I am seen as never going or never there. To her I’m sure that when this trip is over it will all be too late. That is what she said I’m sure or at least of what I remember her saying. She doesn’t say much anymore. Lays in silence mostly. Silently waiting for my return.

Fact or Fiction

“I know your life is a never ending nightmare full of horror and deceit. I know you are often at odds with yourself and this horrid thing called life. Every morning is filled with contempt as you have this endless debate on whether or not you should kill yourself in your shower or while your K-cup brews or in your car that is neither new nor old but works just fine. These things I know because I’m sitting right next to you. These things I know because I’m looking at the same things you are. These things I know because we share the same eco-friendly renewable water source in the same god damn forsaken city on the banks of some form of water. I know all these things, I think all these things because I too live a life of perfect balanced, zero struggle life know as modern society. Chances are we think the same exact way but out of pure boredom let’s say I don’t. Because we have to be different in this world. We have to be special when it comes to things like this in life. Odds are against us though beyond our thoughts. We went to the same school, learned from the same books, ate the same shitty food, and lived near perfect replicas of the same life. Let me guess you played doctor? Let me guess you owned a copy of GTA 3? Let me guess you couldn’t catch’em all on paper or digitized? Let me guess you thought you were special? Well you’re not, you and I are more alike than you and I might think. We are so close you and I that we could be one in the same. Chances are we are in fact the same robotic, institutionalized, modern guilt individuals walking side by side right now. We could say hello to one another but we won’t. We could relate our dream suicide scenario but we won’t. We could discuss just how much we actually hate each other but we won’t. Because what’s the point? Why tell you everything you already know? Why bother letting you in on our little secrets? We all have secrets, guilty pleasures, they are all the same but we have them. We imagine that they are the little things that make us different. That the tidbits of information we hold dear separate us from fact and fiction. When really there is no such thing. We live a life of fact and fiction. We live a life of knowing we are the same, fact. We live a life thinking in some way we are different, fiction. We live lives that are exactly the same. We fuck women and men who are exactly the same. We blindly follow the dumbest of our kind because we know that they are the same. We read books and stories, watch movies and shows on people or about people who are exactly the same. And like you I will do nothing to change this. Like you I will ride this life into the ground hoping for something better but being served up the exact same. There is no difference between animal and man we were put here to do the exact same, suffer until our last dying breathe.”

“What an interesting report Timothy,” the teacher calls out. “Not quite A material but informative all the same in its own way. Go ahead and take your seat with the rest of the class.” She shuffles some papers, disheveled herself, “Umm if we could have Stephanie, Stephanie Keaton come up next.” Stephanie gets up from her seat and takes her place at the head of the class. “Now Stephanie why don’t you tell us what you did this summer.”