Feel as if I’ve adopted insomnia though it is more as if insomnia adopted me. Awake or asleep doesn’t matter my mind is always running. A constant over saturation of ideas that are very much independent of one another. One after the other over and over with no resolve. Who have I become and what must I do to get rid of all these wasted thoughts? Are these things really important to me anymore?
Judge each other on the idea that we know anyone. Peace in the idea that we understand something we have no idea about. Ignorance is tolerated because we are all ignorant. There is no solution to any of this. Constantly asking ourselves, myself what is it that I know to be true?
We evolve in time within our minds. Not the same person I was before I died yet I feel the same as I ever have. Chasing a shadow in the dark. Searching for whatever it is that I have become. Monster or man what is the difference this far along?
At this point in time they have become one. Not sure I’m okay, but I’ll survive. Not sure I even have or had a choice in all this time. They say we do, but they also say there is a God that makes every decision for us. Conflicting conflict right there if you ask me. The world is evolve or die. God or man the laws are the same. Simple and complex all at the same time.
I can feel it
I can feel the spirit
Being sucked right out of me
Keep on going it whispers in my ear
Don’t grow up unless you have to
As if that was ever a choice
It cries, it won’t shut up
And it is now, right here
That I know at least
What is it that I really know
What’s the difference if you
Don’t remember at all
A past idea, a past reflection
Into nothing that makes sense
I’m choking and it hurts
I’m dying and it hurts
I’m living and it hurts
It all hurts
The loneliness is isolating
When you stop to think about it
Your coldness though isn’t much different
When you’ve got nothing to say
Think about this every day
When I’m lost and on display
Each passing moment
Each everlasting gaze
Makes me realize nothings the same
Sometimes I wish it could all go away
Disappear without a trace
We could start over
But I know somehow, some way
It would only be the same
Diving right into the subject on this one. I’m sure I’ll dip in and out of anything I have to say. Thought about all of this six hours ago. My favorite book of all time is Post Office by Charles Bukowski. If you haven’t read it well. Well you should have by now. Bukowski is something else. Amazon has labels, the library has a section, but to me Bukowski is life. With that said is Post Office the greatest book ever written? Probably not. Could careless if anyone or no one else likes it.
The thing about Post Office that I love so much is this feeling. This feeling that life will never get better. This feeling that life is a trap. This feeling that you will always be stuck doing the same thing forever. I struggle with these issues on a daily basis as I’m sure most of us do. This doesn’t go away as we get older. But in a sense you have to settle. I hate to use that word and by definition what I’m about to say would go against that word. You get a fucking Treasures I’m writing here.
Point is that in life not everything is perfect all the time. Not every aspect of your life is what you dreamed it would be. One realizes with time that the only power they have is to choose which aspects of their lives to focus on. You can only spin so many fucking plates until it all comes crashing down.
I work hard at my job. Ask any of them and I’m awesome or whatever, but that place could burn down tomorrow. I’d be more pissed that I now have to find another job I don’t care about then anything to do with that place. I settled for my job. Oh well could give a fuck. I need money for things I actually care about.
I didn’t settle on my family or the time that I spend with them. I don’t settle on my writing. Maybe after draft eighteen, but most of the time I don’t. These are things that I can make perfect. Things that I can care about. Things that make me happy. Yes I have that emotion somewhere deep down in there. Things I won’t settle for.
Post Office didn’t teach me any of this. What Post Office did was made me realize I was trapped. That I was lost. That I was going to get stuck. Post Office made me think and that is why books are important. I saw the parallels that I was living to the main character, and I knew that, that was not what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want to just get by in this life. I had a goal and I needed to do more than hope. I needed to do more than let the waves drag me under. Fuck what happens. That is what Post Office left me with. This feeling that what was going to happen was going to happen anyways. Might as well fuck with it until it does. We get one life. Take a chance.
“In the morning it was morning and I was still alive. Maybe I’ll write a novel, I thought. And then I did.”
Charles Bukowski, Post Office
The day she left is the closest to actual hell that I ever want to be. I don’t believe in God and I know that when I die I’m not going anywhere, but six feet under and if there is a God and I am sent to hell. Hell would be that day over and over again, and in reality I feel as if I have already reached that point in my life. That all I am doing is reliving that day over and over. The day she left I didn’t say much. In fact I hadn’t said much the three days prior either. All I did around this time was cry, cry like I have never cried in my life. I begged her to stay, but no amount of begging would change her mind. She just went on about how this is was the best way. The best way for what I would scream. Only to be followed by more tears. The day she left. The day she left I kissed her one more time and I asked her to stay. She never answered me. She hugged me, holding me tight a feeling I miss more than anything in life, and then she walked to our car, her car now, and she pulled out of the parking space and went on her way. I just stood there for what felt like hours, for weeks, for months, in some ways I am still standing there and I cried some more. Since that day I haven’t stopped crying and I haven’t said much about how I felt. My mind replays it again. All the hurt comes back in waves. I think that I shouldn’t cry, but I always do. The drugs are lined up. All I have to do is do them like I have before. Pretty white lines that erase everything. Even if it is only for a short time. The escape numbs the abandonment. The escape rids me of all the pain. The escape is the heaven that takes me away from my hell. Every day I think back to what I did wrong. Every day I wonder what it would have been like if she stayed. I have never been perfect, but I don’t think I ever deserved this and despite all of it I still love her. Despite all the hurt and all the pain she has caused me I would give anything to be back with her for one more day. I screwed this life up a long time ago and I have found some way to allow it to continue. I snort the lines, I line up more. I’m ready to forget. Even if it is only for a short time. My mind is blank. Freedom is losing everything you ever wanted on a dream.
A Lie (Novel) now available on Kindle.
The weatherman calls for rain, but then again it always rains here. The rain is cold and it is harsh against my clothes and against my skin. The rain comes down and it pours, and when it doesn’t pour it turns into mist that surrounds me to always let me know that it is there with me. The rain will never leave.
The weatherman calls for rain. He is an idiot in a village full of them. The rain builds up on the edges of the streets and seeps on to the sidewalk. The rain puddles look like lakes on the ground. I feel as if I am Jesus walking on water, but the holes in my shoes bring me closer to the ground than closer to god.
The weatherman calls for rain, but what does it matter? When it rains it pours and it makes days seem like weeks and weeks like months. Time stands still here only the rain and the weatherman are constant around me. Some days it burns and some days it heals, but its presence is always with me. I wonder what it would be like without all the rain.
The weather man calls for rain, and I assume my place once again.
Story blog how strange… This is a flash fiction micro tale about nothing inspired by my time in Washington State… Fun fact it rains there.. a lot.. I remember walking to work and dodging the tidal waves created by the city buses… For a place with so much rain it always seemed as the roads were flooded… Too broke to afford even the bus. I often arrived to work soaking wet.. It was very humbling and honestly some days I miss it. Maybe it’s the youth I miss… Not caring about anything… Of course that wasn’t even the case then… Everything seemed way more important than it ever actually was.. I worked in a fucking video store.. haha…
Another reason I wrote this story was because I could careless about the weather.. Not the environment.. I care about that.. Put your fangs back in… What I mean is that I don’t care if it is raining or not… It either is or it isn’t.. So to me weather specialist are kind of pointless… Tying it all together… There might be some more symbolism in there somewhere… Not sure what it could be..
I want to change the world, but I know it won’t matter. The wheel turns with or without me. The sands of time keep falling one by one whether I care to notice at all. I can’t take much more of this. This world’s retribution is too much to bare. A constant dragging of my body across a bed of nails. My flesh tears apart, but yet somehow stays attached. The bones of my broken body mended together with lies and dreams. My blood is all but gone. My heart still beats. Beats to the rhythm of my death. Slow, painful, and everlasting.
We add only to take away
If I take away all that I have become
Would I only be adding to what I’ve done
Taken away from what I become
An empty shell, Hollowed out heart
A lie from the start
Accept my apologies
I knew not what I have done
Only that it would destroy you
Extinguish this thoughtless idea
Sincerely everything I wish
How soon is too soon to know this is an ever passing moment? These feelings won’t last and then I’ll be left with nothing much. Regret and sadness mostly. Sit and smile. Pretend not to suffer ninety-five percent of the day. This is life. This is how most of us live. Wish I could drink the feeling away like everyone else. Like my heroes, but it does nothing for me. Magnifies my problems, my issues in such a way that it makes me feel even worse than before. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough. Could be my problem all along. How hard should we be trying to live?
I want to dance in the darkness of me and you
Our shadows create a cryptic sense of self
Our shadows in the moon light
Our shadows, strangling each other tonight
Ideas of love twisted with each passing moment
Your final breathes
Mean more with everything left unsaid
It is easy to get lost in all this shit. It is easy to forget that there is a whole other world out there. One I used to be a part of. Friends that I used to know. Places I used to go and now it is the same thing over and over again. The same old bull shit. Not much longer from now this will turn into the past, and just like my current past it will all become lost again.
It’s somewhere in there already, but lost all the same. Distant memories made up of good times and bad. I miss some of it. Okay a lot of it. Times were simpler of course because they always are. Life doesn’t get any easier than the way it was before. I miss Japan. I miss the life that I had there and yet I don’t really. At the time it was alienating. It was strange. Not the country. The country is amazing. It is part of me. Anytime I hear something bad happening there or happened I feel for the people. Off point. The things that were strange about being there was that I shouldn’t have been there at all.
All day I meet people who have never left the state let alone the country. I shouldn’t have been so lucky to see another country. To experience a life and a world outside of my own. It is damaging. Good or bad it was damaging. It has caused me to be lost in this new world I must live in. This off-putting only I matter world when you and I really don’t. That’s the thing about not getting out of your bubble is that you don’t realize that you are not important. Sure you can cause a big scene maybe fuck up some people’s day, but honestly you and your whole town could vanish of the face of the earth. Life would go on. A depressing thought I know, but the truth can be that way sometimes.
They’d make a new town. Maybe not right away because a bunch of people just vanished, but over time they’d move in. People love free shit even if it might kill them. Life is so minimal that it seems to be something greater than it really is. It is all so serious when it doesn’t have to be. We are either losing out on enjoying life or at a shot to enjoy life. It comes full circle I guess. I don’t know. Maybe I am only speaking for myself with the idea that I am speaking to others.
Looking back I wasted so much time caring about what others think or how things should be. Could be my cross to bear or it could be life. Either way I am lost in this new world I am forced to live in or I am lost in the old one that I had to give up. Life is ever evolving, constantly changing, and we are all here to keep it going. Lost or not we all have our place in time.