Walking on Water
I feel like I can stay above the surface as long as I keep my eyes focused on my objective but the moment I look at the storm surrounding me, I begin to sink. A famous story and now one I’m seeing first hand in relevance to my own life.
I’ve tried so hard lately to improve my life yet it seems I cannot escape the inner clockwork of my mind and emotion. I’ve made heather choices which have had less negative consequences but yet somehow in someway I’ve created similar consequences just in new forms. I thought I was on the road to redemption but perhaps as it turns out, it was the same road just paved with a different colour. I can see my recklessness reflect back to me so clearly. My empty-mindedness so apparent. Considering myself as if I’m immune to the consequence of action. My decisions disguised under the light of something better now revealed as a simple trade-off for one genre of self-medication for another. Now its all become this tangled web of emotion where I’m not even sure what is what. The only clarity I can find is when I jump a year into the future and look back. Funny how perspective changes everything.
It sounds depressing but I can’t stop thinking about how much I wish I was never blessed with the gift of life. I feel seemingly doomed to walk without purpose or direction. Every attempt to find substance a cruel reminder of the truth that lingers within the depths of my heart. I wait patiently for the storm to come but it seems the skies taunt me with grey ferocity, barking but never indicating when they might bite. So I wait with anxious expectation wondering when the storm will come to pass. It seems to have been brewing for as long as I’ve looked upwards.
People don’t like to hear about other peoples troubles. Can’t blame ’em. Everyone has enough of their own shit going on to get overly caught up in the plight of others. It makes you wonder if you’re really flying solo through this life. You are. I am.
I used to think life was gift. I think it can be but I don’t believe it is for everyone. I think there are some people who just never wanted to be. I feel like one of them. It seems as if the world as I know it is incapable of incorporating someone like me into its collective. There are people in far worse conditions than me who want to live and here I complain how life is a burden. They would trade anything to have my life while I would trade anything to have no life.
Wow this is heavy stuff eh? Good thing nobody reads this shit. The benefits of having a blog the world knows nothing about. I guess it’s easier to write whats on your mind when you don’t have to give any thought to who you’re talking to.
I keep lying to myself when I say I miss younger days. I hate the shithead I used to be. I hate him so much it hurts. I’ve vowed never to be that piece of trash again. Still, I know I can’t be that far off from him. Just a more evolved, experienced version of my younger self. The reality being I never stopped feeling the way I always did. I just realized I needed to act differently. I’m tired of hurting people because of my inward focus. Now even with my conscious self-awareness so well defined, I’ve still learned to put it as a secondary necessity when it comes to interacting with others. I look through the eyes of those I’m with and put my own state of being in limbo. Well, maybe not always but I try. I’m tired of wasting people’s time. I’m tired of wasting my own time.
Whoever said “things get easier,” was full of shit.
It gets easier to care less but that doesn’t mean you want to. The only thing that gets easier is accepting the truth that things don’t get easier. In fact they get harder. Much harder. The only reason why they might seem easier is because experience allows you to revisit recurring similar situations with more ease of navigation than the first time. Someone close to you dies for the first time and you lose your fucking mind. Then someone else close to you dies sometime later and it seems easier. Its not actually its just that you got better at navigating losing the people you care about.
So what gets you out of bed in the morning? Is it the urgency to live your life? The only thing that gets me out of bed is the wishful thought that the cigarette I have before work will somehow provide me with some revelation about my life. I’m generally disappointed.
They tell you that you can do anything but thats not entirely true. What you’re capable of actually doing is only within the realm of the resources you have at your disposal. I mean, I didn’t have to tell you that because I’m sure you already knew. I don’t even know why I’m stating this kind of obvious nonsense. I guess maybe I’m angry that day after day and week after week and month after a month I work endlessly to reach an end that is out of sight. I work towards an end I don’t even understand. What is it that I am working towards and why?
See this is why I should’t be allowed in front of a keyboard after a few beers. I get way to contemplative. And somewhat emotional. Probably just the build-up of daily life finally exploding into a wild burst of shimmering but defeating star sand of the self-loathing heavens.
Hows that for descriptive writing? Fuck you English 12. I knew I wasn’t going to need that shit after high school. Keep your fucking Shakespeare and weird boring artsy shit. The real world does not involve Shakespeare in any way at all whatsoever. (Have I made that clear enough?)
Alright well the one thing to take from this blog post is drinking beer while listening to sad music is only going to translate into an emotional mess of thought and feeling and it should probably be avoided when at all possible. Goodnight to all the non-existing persons who read this catastrophe of a blog. May your hangovers be better than mine.