I guess life really loops around. If I look back at all that has happened to me in the last few years, I start to see a cycle of starting and quitting. Starting one thing means my redemption, and by quitting and starting another thing, I save myself again. I wonder if one thing will stop leading to another, and if it will just stop and trail off… So I’m at the edge of a new beginning; the crest, the drop off, the ledge, the new chapter. This last one failed almost as miserably as the one before, minus the fact that this one really didn’t leave me better off in any way whatsoever. The scary part is wondering how I’m going to fuck this next one up.
I think it began way back when I started 7th grade and skiped a grade for the first time (wich sort of became a habbit after that)...yeah... that's a long story for another night. But I've ended up here, nursing and polishing up my brain after a mental breakdown (which is a result of deaths in the family, and deaths of friends, six months in Italy without another crazed, out-of-line fucking american around, too many cigarettes, coffee, wine, beer, pasta, weed, hash (yes, the wussy form of our green friend) and getting tattered by a damn drunk french guy on new years in France. Bloody French... what a way to put a damper on a new years celebration. I walk with a limp sometimes because of that.).
So I am back in the home town, good ol' middle of nowhere, shit to do, retirement town, everything-closes-at-eight-pm, granola/hippy/yuppie/ritzy piece of shit place where I was born, working for Jim Mate*** Landscaping and Irrigation. (The asterics are placed for your protection, not mine. Fuck, find me if you want, but whatever you do, for your own sake, don't hire us to landscape your home or business.) WHat a waste. And while this job is pretty much equiped without prestige, I'm pretty sure I thought it was worth it to pay off my debts, buy me some toys that every guy needs and some cigs, not to mention pay for the six hour drive to visit the girlfriend. But since she ended that shit last night, well, that has changed my perspective again. So I'm thinking about working in Mexico on Pablo's family's farm. Or maybe I should join the coast gaurd. There's always the circus to consider as well. But in all seriousness, this city drags me down, and though I'm pretty sure I can't get much lower, I would refrain from putting money down on this one kids.
So most the stuff I've written in my life is on paper. I feel you all are missing out on some messed up shit. So I'll slowly throw in some stuff from the vault. Let's start with something recent. Because I always wanted to write a book, and I figured, it’s what smart people do, right? It’s what people with a vision do. Papers litter my room with phrases like Ten Dozen Eggs in a Frying Pan. For me, like most people, it has always been a problem of filling up the canvas. Me wanting to write something worthy of being read is similar to saying “I’m not a funny person, so I’ll write a comedy.” So I sit in bed at night, as my comforter suffocates the fan of my laptop, facing this computer I have named My Manifestation of Power. I don’t have a story to tell. In fact, my own story, while bland enough, is better than anything I can think up. In fact, I’m a fucked up story. I’m a depressed kid feeling old, stretched and thin. So maybe I’ll just stick to rambling on as I do in my life. SO, I'll stick with the small stuff...
This was something I started and quit shortly after. Big supprise. It's called Monologue of Reality. Here goes nothing... *Ehem*
>>>Do you ever feel you could tear at the walls of reality? Does that fabric almost feel loose, like all around you is a … mask? I feel like the very air is about to fall into pieces, or dissolve. I feel a burning sensation like I will fall out of a hammock of some sort, a hammock of existence. Everything is almost a …coffee stain on what is behind the stage. True reality.
I have felt it for years. I can remember the feeling when I was a child. They called them mild panic attacks. If I closed my eyes things would bulge and grow, fold, disappear. If I opened them it was worse. My body temperature would rise, I would sweat. Sounds grew loud and echoing, like they didn’t bounce off the walls of the room correctly. I felt afraid, out of control, insignificant and vulnerable. But it wasn’t just a childhood feeling. They still come. They are more profound, and less frightfully bearing. However they are still her. All that is needed is a spark, or a match to burn down the curtains. I know it is there; not an alternate place, but what’s really there.
I am not talking about a Hollywood matrix, or a heaven and hell…though it most certainly feels like that. But it’s coming closer, whatever it is, heaven or hell, matrix or madness.
And then I lose it. Light ceases to cast shadows into the broken cracks-- it’s just part of the spectrum that my eyes can see. The part that we can sense.
MAN, SHAVED HEAD AND FACE WAKES UP, STARTLED. HE IS WEARING A WHITE UNDERSHIRT, AND WHITE BRIEFS. HE HAS TWELVE RUBBER BANDS AROUND HIS LEFT WRIST. ROOM IS LIGHT FROM AN OPEN WINDOW. THE WHITE CURTAINS ARE LIGHTLY BLOWING IN THE BREEZE. THERE IS NO FERNISHING, JUST A GLASS OF WATER BY THE SIDE OF HIS MATRES (WHICH IS A DOUBLE, ON THE GROUND). He leans up on his right elbow, looks around and takes a deep breath. His eyes are wide open, and then he blinks a few times. He gets up quickly and closes the window. He puts on some brown leather shoes, worn and old. He doesn’t tie the laces, but continues to walk into the next room. There is a table full of notebooks, papers, Lighting a cigarette he sloppily walks over to his door and looks out the peep hole. Nobody. >>>
If I could only finish something. If I ever have finished anything, I did it by cheating, moving too fast, and in the end finishing early. I graduated two years early. I went to life in Italy, and gave up on that after six months. I quit my jobs, working out, any sport...I quit ski racing while i was 5th in the state for Slalom in high school (so close to the podium! Oh, the lack of recognition, that's my problem!) Only thing I don't quit is relationships. Well, Kayla, thanks for quitting that for me. *Cheers* you bitch. Or cin cin in italy (yeah, you'll fair there worse than I did, so have fun). Can't believe you ended it because I loved you too much. *whew* got that off my chest. Which reminds me of something I wrote some time back...
////date unknown////The world is a very strange place that I really can’t figure out. It is like taking uppers and downers at the same time, making a swampy mess of emotions that plague my every waking day. Somehow drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and my depressive tendencies make it more of a ride of ups and downs. Shades of gray seem much more bright set against black than they do against white, and that is how my life works. I submerge myself in a dark pool of loneliness and pain, only to re-emerge for a breath of life-giving air. In these moments the wonders of existence go beyond the unfathomable space outside of it. I feel wondrous joy. However I am a self destructive creature bent on seeing myself drown. And change is something that comes not for all, if any, without decisive, driven force. Whether or not I can summon this courage to make those steps is something I cannot foresee. But I am home, and it all fits together at a crossroad. Maybe knowledge of which path to take is not important, but what brought me to it in the first point. Through that maybe I can find out where my compass points. Maybe I can save my dieing soul, and force goodness out of something that is so cold, so damaged, and absolutely self loathing.
Salvaging good in yourself is almost impossible in this age. Even the living gods are constantly tempted by human nature. It is less powered people such as myself that find temptation impossible to deny…impossible to face. We let ourselves be ‘free’. Instead we are lost in a stew of fear and loneliness. This loneliness is my reality. It wakes me in the morning and beats me to sleep. The few that make me smile are so far out of daily reach that it’s impractical to even rely on them, though they’re all I have worth continuing for. One of my greatest qualms is one of them in particular will leave me… and if she does, she will destroy me. She will crush me into a dead nothingness.
I love her. It really scares me shitless. I’m just a kid. I’ve never felt this way about a girl before. I’m just a fucking kid. I’m not supposed to be into someone as much as I am with her. She cures my every pain, dries my tears, calms my shaking hands, settles my worst fears, and brings the most intense warmth and joy to my heart and dare I say soul. It is a goodness I can’t explain, and a completeness I don’t understand. ////
Well shit. I done predicted that. Who'd uh thunk it. Oh well... I don't have any more tears left for her. She's got a bite in her I didn't know about to the fullest extent 'till now. So next chapter. And she's not in it.