Babble

I want to say something. I really do. I want to talk about love and life and all those beautiful things that neee more words.

I want to talk about words and all the wondrous ways they combine and make the world a better place.

I want to talk about the growing darkness that weighs on my soul. The bitter sticky goo that chokes me and makes me cry over small the small omens that fill our days.

I want to cry. To let my tears flow from their secret reserve and spread across the rough patches of this life like a balm.

But right now there's too much to be done. I don't have the time to be broken. There are novels to write and preteen sociopaths to combat the destinies of.

And even if there was the time, I can find nothing to sooth myself with. There's nothing to loose myself in. Nothing to ease the gnawing voices in the back of my skull.

I have to find a place that it's safe to let my guard down. I need to find something to loose myself in. Something to let me relax and unclench, and something that I don't feel guilty about after. Or worse... feel nothing about.

I'm just babbling. Loosing the bile in my heart in a "healthy" way. I realize this. I'm also realizing that this isn't helping as much as I had secretly hoped it would. I feel like I have nowhere to turn currently.

I have a great many people that love me dearly. I know this, and without them I would be even worse off.

But I'm trapped in a cage of my own creation. Locked in by my own feelings and desires, and the profound contradictions existant in them. I want to fight against it... but I don't know how anymore.

Anyway. To end this on a light note, I have a good life. I have amazing friends and a family that support me endlessly. I have more love in my life than I know what to do with. And I have a job where I'm wanted and that I love.

So there's that.

Good Person

I've been doing a great deal of thinking lately. I know, I know, big surprise. But I've come to some conclusions. Though I don't think I'll be able to explain why it is that they make me uncomfortable.

But I'm a good person. Perhaps even a great one.

In a quantifiable way. I've been devoting my life to the special educational needs of the children most in need. I actively seek to alleviate pain where I can. I go out of my way to see the best in people. To look to their virtues instead of writing them off for their flaws. And when I am able, I offer as much as I can to help those that need of it.

A friend of mine called me a "Paladin" the other night.

I wanted to argue. I wanted to say "No. Fuck that. I'm a creature of Chaos." But even as I said it, I knew he was right. If ever there was anyone who understood Chaos... it was this friend. I see the purest beauty of the chaotic universe. I have traveled with Kali and stared into the depth of the Void. I know and appreciate chaos in a way that very few others do... but at the end of the day. I'm good.

Everything I do is divided between betterment of my myself, the people around me, and society as a whole. Under the strictest definition of good... yeah. I'm pretty damn good. But I think the thing that makes me hesitate is the assumption that if I'm "good" then I have to do things like follow the rules and be polite.

And well... I'm not okay with that. I mean, I'm personable. I have tact. I'm moderately unlikely to start eating the faces of the dinner guests. But polite is not a game I'm willing to play. If I don't see the value in something, or simply just don't want to do it... I won't. I'll say I'm sorry and many times will actually mean it, but at the end of the day I don't like that game.

It's why I profoundly bristle when I'm called "Nice". It's why in a majority of contexts I think nice is a dirty word. Far more offense to me than something as innocuous as the fuck word.

And another thing is that I pride myself with the pursuit of strength. I find it one of the more important things to consider when I make any decision. "Will this make me stronger?" But I have the hardest time doing so if it preys on other people. Or... if it preys on the weak pointlessly. That's a better way to put it. I think that may be the crux of the issue that makes me a good person.

I cannot stand pointless suffering. I hate to look at it, deal with it, and be around it. It offends some deep and angry part within me. I have suffered in my life and I have always tried to use that suffering as a form of transformational energy. I don't suffer to suffer and I don't inflict pain for no purpose.

There are many days when I look around and see that existence is fundamentally without meaning.

But because it means nothing, it means we have to work that much harder to create our own. Which I guess...

Makes me a good person.

Parasite

I am a parasite.

I don't say this in some analysis of the relationship between mankind and the world, or as a means of dredging counterarguments from those that read this. I say it because as I look at the evidence with an open mind, I find it to be undeniable. I am a parasitic organism.

How can I say this? Well I can't live on my own. I've lived on my own or mostly on my own before and it's weeks or at the very most months before it all falls apart.

I'm riddled with physical and mental issues. Many of which without medication my capacity to function within modern society would boil down to nothing. I have ADD, trace amounts of OCD, Seasonal affectation disorder, diabetes, gout, allergies, and what is effectively arthritis. At 29 that's quite the laundry list of disfunction. If it weren't for my parents putting up with me as long as they have I don't know where I would be and if honestly I would be alive. I owe them a greater debt than I think I will ever be able to repay. I love them dearly and wish that I could do more. And I try to do more though it doesn't always look like it.

I am at my most fundamental a broken thing. Flawed is perhaps the better word, but I prefer the images the broken conjures. It lets me pretend that may someday be something with the power to fix me. But that's really just hopeful jibberish. The only way forward is to continue forward. One awkward and painful step at a time.

Now, for those of you positive thinkers who merely think that it's a matter of thinking the right way, "happiness is a choice" and all that bollocks. Please remember that I know this. It's not some mystical secret that will open my heart to the universe. I remember the secrets I'm told. And as secrets go, this is a bit of rubbish.

You haven't been inside my mind.

Imagine standing at the center of a storm. One large enough to have an eye. The kind of huge angry storm that casts princes to their destinies and tears away at mountains like onion paper. Great clouds lashed into a frenzy by the lightning lash of an angry god.

That's what it's like at it's worst. It's a storm to be endured. When it's gentle I can find means of tricking it. Of directing it. But it's not easy, and it's not always worth the cost to command it. But it's this aspect of my mind that makes me a parasite. I need others to help me sort it through. To fight it and live my life.

A parasite by it's fundamental nature is incomplete. They lack something. A potential to protect themselves. The ability to gather their own energy. A great bleeding hole in their heart that forever bleeds but refuses to let you die. These are what make a parasite. A lacking.

So they latch onto something else. Some other creature that can fulfill that lack. If they're kind and considerate they find a way to give something back. They achieve symbiosis. The mitochondria in our cells. The bacteria in our guts. They're mooches. They're leaching off the things that we have that they don't. But they help us out along the way.

Don't take me wrong. This writing is done with a full understanding of my positive traits. I'm painfully aware of them. I'm not fishing for people to tell me what a "Great Guy" I am or shower me with hugs and well wishes. In all reality that would further aggravate the problem. Because there are far too many times when it really doesn't matter what's good about me. That gaping hole filled with illness and madness...

It's always still there.

Tripping me.
Tearing at me.
Defining me.

And letting me drink of the truth in the bitter cup.

I am a parasite. And I'm sorry for that.

Passivity

I spend a great deal of time watching people. And more than just watching and judging I devote a lot of time to trying to understand. Understanding is the thing I value the most in myself. I say this because I on occasion realize that some trait of humanity infuriates me to the point of grumbling psychosis.

Now before I begin I will say that I consider my actions carefully. I plan things out in exhausting detail. Which given that fact the subject of this post may seem odd. Because I personally find "Passive" to be one of the most unforgivable character traits a person can have. There are few faster ways for me to think ill of you. Now this wasn't always the case and honestly it's really only come to the surface recently. And I'll be the first to say that there I have been times when I was as guilty of this sin as anyone.

Did you catch that? I called it a sin. Because that's what it is. For those of you who ascribe to such thing, it's even one of the big ones.

Sloth.

It's sloth. Not one of the "oh you touched yourself say some Hail Marys sins" but the proper will stab you in a back alley monoliths of ill behavior they craft circles of Hell in service of. It's one of the two sins that so completely plague the righteous. The one that you embrace so completely in your attempts to avoid the others. There are oh so many sayings about the dangers of being passive. "All it takes for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing." When faced with adversity, when placed before what you want you don't stand idly by and "hope for the best". Or worse expect your knight in shining armor to rush forth and save you from the harsh world.

Come here my friend. Sit next to me for this bit. Because it's an ugly ugly truth I need to tell you.

There are no shining knights, and those that pretend to be... aren't doing you any favors. Because they're robbing you of the chance to help yourself. Now, I'm not saying that there's shame in asking for help when you need it. Because there is none. And there is a lot of suffering in the world that pours from the grim temple of absolute self-reliance. Accepting help can take more courage than facing the problem alone. But the problem with the passive, is that they expect the help. And many times, they even demand it.

And this expectation leads us into the other sin that conquers the pious. This expectation becomes a breeding ground for entitlement. Because you have lived your life assuming you deserve it, you demand it from the world. And so it is that Sloth opens the doors to Pride.

Now if you sit there without ever looking into your own worth. In your passivity you assume it. I'm as guilty of this as anyone. It's easy to look from the inside and say "hey I'm awesome, everybody should jump to help me out. I deserve your love because I want it." But that's not how this world works. It's a thousand times better to try and fail than to never have attempted.

Now, everyone who's reading this likely has a system of beliefs where a sacrifice was made. Prometheus tied to the stone with his liver being torn out day after day. Jesus nailed to the cross for the sins of the masses. The heart of the star where your innumerable particles were forged in ages before time as we knew it. These are the costs of your life, your salvation, and knowledge. When you passively wait instead of grasping the reins of your own life, you dishonor the memory of those sacrifices.

Maybe it doesn't bother you. And maybe there's no shame in it.

But for me? I want to live with a fire in my belly and the wind in my lungs. I want to tear into the mountains and strive for the stars. I want to guide the broken and create new ways for people to see the world. I want to LIVE.

And I can't do that and stay passive.

A Poem

I want to write you a poem.

One that's full of magic.

One that takes your breath away.

One that steals a few joyous tears from your eyes.

I want to conjure words.

Beautiful words that you will hold in your heart forever.

Words that will twist and wrap you in a net of emotion.

The word that say how I feel about you.

Your smile forever seared into the twitching meat at my core.

Your hair like ivy kissed with autumn's gold

Eyes like fresh turned soil that glitter with the most impish of innocence.

The honeyed liquor that is your scent.

Because it's always you.

Since the moment I met you.

When I knew that I would love you.

Fiercely. Painfully. And without end.

And so we do this little dance.

A dance of poems and stories.

Of furtive glances and lingering hugs.

Two steps forward and one step back.

Secrets and mistakes nothing more than movements.

As we stumble

Laugh.

And cry to music that we can't hear.

My Mermaid.

My Princess.

My Lovelorn Paladin.

My private hope that fairy tales can come true.

I wanted to write you a poem.

But all that came out were words.