(no subject)
I'm slowly starting to raise from the dead. And as the past comes to meet
the future I draw upon a sensation that runs through my body. My skin starts
to feel more sensitive, and I feel it turning around on me.
Greeted in the morning by a cold frost, and a piercing amalgamation of feelings
I start to realise that I'm cold. It takes a while - I never seem to pick up on
these things that quickly.
And then I come to accept the coldness. I feel the cool shriek of the remnants
of winter .. and I finish off my cigarette, and go back inside to the warmth.
Then as I start to come to, I later go outside again - and I see the sun - and it's
starting to raise in the sky. I look around, and see the shadows. Knowing full
well that it soon will be bright and wonderful.
Then I return inside .. and outside again I do venture. And the sun! It's out in
full glory. Oh what a glorious day...
And then I realise that sometimes, it feels like it's going to be winter forever,
and I can't help but look towards the future, as if somehow the present moment just
does not matter.
And then I realise, that I choose to be cold. And that thinking warm thoughts is not
necessarily the best way to deal with dealing with the present coldness.
Sometimes I feel like I'm not going anywhere at all. That I'm just treading, as if by
magic, just by doing what I feel is right, that things will somehow go my way. Until
the bitter realisation hits me that mankind is evil. And that there are unsurmountable
terrors behind every corner. I stand up, with the full knowledge, that when I sit down
it'll take me a while to get around to standing up once again.
Sometimes it's just motion, that keeps me doing anything at all. Sometimes I wonder if
maybe I should just sleep the winter off. If it serves any purpose whatsoever. And then
I'm like .. It's not cold. Straight denial. Yeah, that's it. If I tell myself it's not
cold then it's not. Right? And then every sunny day, it helps justify my decision that
it's not cold.
Sometimes I lie to myself so much, that I've got no idea what the truth is. I always try
and seek the truth, but sometimes it's just too hard to take. I must simplify. I must
kid myself. I must not see what I don't want to see. I must not hear what I don't want
to hear.
But then, there's always a catch. Always something that I should have been aware of, had
I not been too stupid and deluded in some kind of fantasy world where nothing ever upsets
my natural equilibrium. I feel a sensation in my gut, like I don't quite feel right. And
then I do whatever I can easiest do, that'll make me feel right in the gut again. It's
pretty simple really.
But sometimes I start to feel diseased, and sick. And feel like I just have to wait the
feeling out. Like that feeling when you drink milk that was off. And you decide that milk
shouldn't go off, and that it should have been fine. But you never really knew whether or not
it would be.
Sometimes I don't trust my own senses. I look at the useby date, I ignore that the milk may
not be off. I trust that things are as they appear to be. And then this sensation overcomes
me. And things are not! I'm bitter, and agitated, and I want to blame something. I want to
make sure it does not happen again. I want to design my life, so that nothing ever goes wrong.
And then I realise, that I only have to set things back right. And that I should just do that.
But where to start? What to blame? Where to go. And then I'm like, well, I need to do this,
and this, and this. But what happens if it doesn't work out. Sometimes I feel like I'm walking
blind. And that really, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.
And yet, something seems to keep pushing me onwards. Sometimes I feel like I don't really know
anything at all. That I'm actually really stupid. That I've been bluffing, and that I'm not
ready to meet the consequences. I get scared, and want to run away.
I always used to try and keep a future direction. When one thing didn't work out, I'd focus on
another. But sometimes I'd find, that nothing seemed to work out. Everything seemed to fail,
and I'd have no idea why. I just needed something to blame. I'd feel this lust for blood.
That somehow through pain, lay some kind of answer. I wanted to understand why the world was so
harsh. Why everyone wanted to kill one another. I always had this strange feeling, like I had
done nothing wrong, so what was I doing in this warzone. I just wanted to kill everyone. I just
wanted to simplify everything. I didn't want to die. I knew I must fight on. But the odds, they
were starting to get overwhelming. And so I'd go: Fuck the odds. I'm going to win, no matter what.
I'd find myself being completely and utterly unwilling to compromise. I felt like the stakes were
too high. Too much at risk. I felt like compromise meant death. And that I was too young to die.
I started looking at other people. And I'd start deciding whether they're ready to die or not. And
then I'd be like: "He's not ready to die", "He's ready to die", "He's not ready to die" and then I'd
start questioning people: "Do you want to die?"
The curiosity behind such things seemed to dismount people. "You look like you want to die" ...
"Can I kill you?"
And yet, I didn't like war. War just wasn't my thing. I just had this fascination with why so many
people seemed to want to die. Every thing they did at their own expense. Every time they did things
that would surely fail. Every time, they didn't stand up for themselves. Well, they were asking for
it. They wanted to die. I wanted to help people not die. But first, I had to decide whether they
were worthy. And for some reason, as my mood lowered more and more people were unworthy. For some
reason I was the only worthy one. It didn't matter if they died. But I wasn't going to die, or
maybe everyone would die. And if I died, how's that different from everyone else dying? It's the
same thing to me. Right?
But sometimes, I'd have this sudden realisation like they didn't really want to die. They just didn't
know what to do. And so I'd get these ideas that no-one knows what to do. And that I was the only
one that cared.
I'd find people not knowing what to do all over the place. When you look for it, it's easy to find.
I'd start telling them what to do, and they'd start doing what I told them. This irritated me somewhat.
I didn't want to tell them what to do. I wanted them to tell me to fuck off, and that they could do
things on their own. And so I'd try seeing how much I could tell them to do, without them telling me
to fuck off. I'd start undermining people left, right, and centre. "You don't know what to do! You're
stupid! Stop being stupid. Tell me to fuck off." It didn't seem to help much.
Somehow I thought, that as long as I knew what I was doing more than everyone else than I was fine.
Sometimes it seemed like I created situations, in such a way, to enforce my own direction, even when other
people had sensible ideas. Of course, to me, their ideas weren't sensible. I could see holes in them.
Sometimes I'd start picking at peoples ideas, to see if they'd hold up. And any amount of defensiveness
meant that really their ideas had holes in them. And they should get rid of them, and have new ideas that
would hold up.
Of course, my ideas had holes in them too. I liked it when people tried to poke sensible holes in my ideas;
it's just that lots of the holes that other people seemed to find in my ideas just didn't seem warrantable.
They were for things so minute, and unlikely to happen, that if they really did, something could be done in
that situation, to fix it. It was better to have a safe path by default, rather than to jump to conclusions
that everything was prone to fail.
And so when people would cut holes in my ideas. Well, were they trustworthy? How'd their implementation of
ideas go. As long as other people were successful in implementing things that I handed off to them it was
fine. But as soon as people became unreliable, I'd cast them off.
But sometimes. I'd find that I'd have to cast myself off too. I was too unreliable. I made too many mistakes;
I should have been able to avoid them. But something was getting in the way. Some kind of feeling like I just
could not allow enough doubt into my mind.
Sometimes I used to try to make myself doubtful. I'd try to attack myself. As if somehow that'd help me gain
clarity. All it seemed to do was leave me with strange thoughts, about my world, and how chaotic it was.
Sometimes it felt like I had no control over my own life. And I'd start hallucinating. Things seemed to come
from random places. I'd start shaking. And I'd feel like I had to wait it out. Of course I never told anyone
because I was paranoid. And when you're paranoid, the last thing you want to do, is tell anyone that you're
paranoid in case they use it against you.
But those periods of time .. they're always worse in the moment than in retrospect. Sometimes I'd even seek out
this chaos, as if somehow it'd help me understand myself. I'd try analysing it, and understanding it. But it
just never seemed to go anywhere.
But those days .. are over ...
Those days .. maybe ..
I'm starting afresh. I'm starting a new. I'm going to try and set things right. I know the time has come.
Now .. where to begin ..
Well I'm beginning by allowing myself to experience more of life in the moment. To appreciate life a little more.
And I'm not going to be too concerned about my lack of direction for a while. I'll just stick it on hold, and do
what comes to mind ..