Covering Void

Is it funny how something broken stops feeling? – The Broken

The only emotions I contain or ever seem to feel are rage and bitterness. I cry out that life isn’t fair or people are the problem. Everyone else needs to grow up and live their lives. I’m an angry child too proud to back down when I know I’m wrong. What happened to me?

I want to blame everyone who wronged me in ways only I can formulate an understanding of. To yell at God, who made me such a low confidence, unfortunate loser. It’s not my fault. I’m the victim… in truth I’m the asshole. I’m the one who continues to sabotage relationships. Push away family. Shut myself off from the outside world. Embrace the void and pray it ends.

I am my own worst enemy. The sad part is I know it, yet I cannot beat myself. I am always one step ahead. My lofty ideas of sacrifice and compassion will forever be shrouded by pride and selfishness.

Since I was young I’ve raced towards becoming the man I am while spouting ideals that were contrary to the notion. I still believe I can be a good man, but I don’t know what catalyst I need to change. To stop the void from spreading. Darkness covers me, yet I still cling to the dimming light. It is dying though.

No Hero

When I was young, I would never have thought I’d be who I am today. In fact, my child self would probably tell me to be happy. Would probably go out of his way to try to make my day better. He did that for a lot of people. Sometimes selflessly other times hoping the girl would like him or the person would be his friend. He would have willing taking on the worlds suffering, because he cared.

But now there is me. That child has grown into a monster. Full of venom and rage. I always thought I’d be a hero, but I’m much closer to a villain, but society makes it so easy does it not? Everyone is so selfish and just pieces of shit. I look at people and they aren’t worth saving. They treat each other like crap and use whatever excuse is relevant at the time to do so.

I just lied. Stopped typing to lie to someone. Didn’t think twice. Just did it. Why? I wouldn’t have when I was younger or I would have felt a massive guilt about it. Now it is so easy and those pieces of shit I hate; I am one of them. As a kid I saw the villains and I believed they could be good. That good was greater than evil.

When we are born we are empty. Neither good nor evil. So why am I so filled with evil. I want to blame the world, but I’m not even part of this world any longer. None of it belongs to me. I belong to none of it. In fact it may be my enemy, whether I’m the hero or the villain is yet to be seen, but years ago a kid would have believed I could be the hero.

Reject

I heard something in a show. Probably watch too much shows. Actually, I know I do. I’ve spent my life hoping to be like the characters I see on tv. Popular, runny, nerdy, tough, hero, kind, romantic, a million positive characters that I’ve wanted to be, but its such a disappointment to find out I’m me.

But back to what I heard. It is that serial killers or mass murders usually go through a traumatic event, are socially awkward, and feel rejected by this world. I never knew why I felt so sad and under water until I heard that. The words just fit. REJECTED BY THIS WORLD. All I wanted to do is feel like I belonged. To feel part of the crowd.

DISCLAIMER: NOT a serial killer or mass murder. Just a reject.

Yet even when I’d start groups, plan events, or try my damnest; I’d mess it up or fade into the background. I don’t want you to think that its people’s fault its mine. I don’t fit any molds. The bullshit this world gives you about being an individual is a lie. No one wants to be different when different isn’t what everyone else wants. We want to be wanted.

When I type this out I think I’m just being stupid, but that doesn’t change how I feel. I don’t feel like I belong and I don’t want to be here. I’m married. I have a loving family. I have friends. I have people who care about me, but I don’t want to be here. Every day is such a damn burden. It is lonely. IT IS LONELY. ALWAYS.

I feel like I’m underwater; sometimes I get a breath, but it is not enough.

Fading Imaginations

If you don’t get imagination as a child you probably never will. – Dr. Seuss

Did you ever run into the wild with just your imagination? As a kid it’s how I always played. A stick could be sword, bow, or a bazooka. Foes and enemies appeared before my eyes, and I bested my greatest challengers. I often recall these memories with fondness, and think to a car passing by I was just a kid tumbling and running around for no reason. My imagination was strong back then. The lost of imagination is one of the greatest tragedies. Because we stop believing we can beat the things that haunt us. Our belief in ‘good triumphs over evil’ is squashed in the harsh reality that is life. As a kid you believe paper wings can make you fly, or pieces of junk can be turned into a time machine. Where does our imagination go?

Reality takes it when a hero dies. Reality takes it when the darkness of this world is greater than the light. Reality takes it when you have to get a job. Reality takes it when those paper wings fail and the time machine never comes to life. Adult imagination isn’t nearly as powerfully as a child’s. It has to be nurtured the older you get because the truths become too real. Turning a blind eye to facts becomes harder. Some might say you can’t live in a fantasy world, but why not? Maybe people wouldn’t be so cruel, depressed, stressed, or cold if they just opened their mind up more. Not open to new ideas necessarily, but just to the power of the mind’s eye. Be willing to stare nonsense in the face, and accept what it has to offer.

I think back to those times in the woods, my front yard, at the lake, running around my house; all the places I explored my imagination, and I miss that time of being lost in my mind. Worries were few, and joy was great. I think I will take a weekend sometime soon and wander into the woods. Pick up a stick and fight my foes. Engage my imagination because it is something I don’t want to lose. The world is too real and harsh of a place not to get lost in a fantasy world once in awhile.

A Poem About a Monster

(Strong Language and graphic)

It’s a cold silence that fills this room.

One that seeps inside my soul

With a weight no mortal should assume,

But it effortlessly swallows me whole.

I sit in the darkness of my mind and cry.

For a life that is as true as a lie.

I’m not happy. I’m not okay,

But round and round this game I play.

Don’t give a fuck. Hold back a care.

Look at all the people who aren’t there.

But that is the lie. People are there.

I’m the one who doesn’t care.

A piece of living breathing shit.

That’s compiled of corn, meat, and spit.

When I walk around, I leave this stinking trail.

Sucking sounds as each foot lifts.

Always growing quieter, as I turn tail.

Hoping no one ever catches a whiff.

For I’m the bullshit monster.

Soggy with piss instead of covered with fur.

I haunt those close to me.

Fucking up their lives and who they want me to be.

I write stuff so people will see,

I’m self-loathing, please feel bad for me.

This fecal line I craftily spin,

Is just another way my victims let me in.

I’m the bullshit monster.

Be careful how close you wander.

This is Breaking Down

I want to write something to change my own life. Nothing I’ve written has been for anyone else. I want praise. I want meaning. I want someone to notice me. I want some one to say I’ve been there. To say they understand what it’s like to be like me. Its all about I, My, Mine, and Me. I’m a selfish asshole who wants people to care, but doesn’t have time to care about anyone else. I want to say here, “I wasn’t always this person”, but that is a lie. Was I ever nice for anyone but me? Was God ever real or just a vise? Did I care only when it mattered to me? Convenience. A show. A fake. Me.

I’m a pretender. A type of person I shit on without realizing that person is me. I can blame life, people, circumstance, or fate; but in the end I’m to blame. I don’t finish anything, I just exist. I hate existing. Life isn’t suppose to be hard. It’s not suppose to be complicated. Everyone else does it, but I fuck it up. My whole life I’ve been waiting for something big, but never doing anything big. I’ve lost touch with so many people, and I only see how it effects me. Because I’m a selfish piece of shit.

Megan, the first girl I obsessed over. Is it where I fucked up? Obsession not confidence? A shy introvert who thinks having morals actually matters. A fucking loser who couldn’t talk to girls. I fucking hate that guy. I hate him, but now I’m this man. Fucking broken. A wreck. Not some wreck you can’t turn away from, but one that has been there so long you don’t even notice it anymore. Just junk on the side of the road.

What do I need? Maybe a new question.

For all who read this. Never become me.