I said at the start of this year that I wanted to be more truthful.
I think it's safe to say that I have failed.
I get on this damn blog and I don't know what the fuck I should
write about anymore. I fake it until I make it. I grab video clips and
play 'catch-up' to stay on top of the daily chore without really
saying anything.
I've got a lot on my mind and little patience to spell it all out.
And to be honest, I'm not sure if the puzzling centers of my
brain could really unravel the rubik's cube of my thoughts these
days. The colours are askew and someone's been peeling off
the stickers.
I suppose, at the base of it all, I feel pretty useless. I used to be
a guy who connected people. I used to be a guy who had a positive
view and a bright outlook. Now, I'm just another worldly chump
who says 'fuck this' and 'fuck that' and I'm exponentially more
bitter than I was at 25. I'm the loser at the bar who parents tell
their kids not to turn into.
I am Holden Caulfield - the man who strove so hard to rid his
life of the phonies when, underneath it all, he himself is the
biggest phony of them all. I've lost touch with good friends. I
have ended relationships out of spite and snap decisions. I am
floating on a sea of turbulent tides in a dingy made of out of my
own cursed stagnancy.
These last 2 years have been weird as hell. I feel like I'm losing
grip of everything and as the seconds tick by - as the days roll
out on a factory sheet metal press - as the aenima beats on and
the consciousness catches up - I am powerless.
2 years ago, I was a happy, fearful and diminutive man who
worked 3 jobs, walked everywhere and spent a lot of time with
people I loved in a city I adored. For the past 2 years, I've been
shut-in, lazy, removed from friends, yelling in the silent ears
of employment and throwing my fists at the heavens.
Sure - there have been bright spots along the way but in the end,
I feel homeless. I feel thoughtless.
Even now, typing this in the din of my bedroom, words evade me.
I know that I have a faith, in the recesses of my soul, but I've
seen so many friends walk away from belief that it leaves me
feeling cold and lost. These are friends who stood with me on a
threshold of something so beautiful and awe-inspiring that it was
unmistakable in its essence...
...and yet, they are all gone. Vanished. Swallowed.
And yet, in the same breath, there are those who have stayed the
path and for the most part, I want nothing to do with them.
They say their lives are not about rules and regulations but in
reality, that is all that they cling to - any mystical, mind-defying
childlike sense of wonder is gone. They know the songs. They
speak the words. They wear the clothes. They have bad breath.
I'm mad at a lot of people and I bet there are people who are
mad at me.
I'm interested to see how it will all work out.
