Apathetic = Pathetic

People are really quite apathetic. It's not like I want people to feel sorry for me all the time. I actually don't want that at all. But come on. We're both human beings. I don't mean for these things to happen and you look at me as if I always do it on purpose, just to bug you. You're pathetic.

In Motion

Moments ago I had just opened this blog to the world. It was probably one of the hardest things I have ever done because my writing has always been for me and critiqued by only me. The only person I had shown this to up until now is my sister- she's the only one I have shown any of my writing to. But I love writing and I will do anything to progress at it. I figured the only option left for me to do was to leave it out there for the world to critique. From their feedback, I can grow as a writer. I wouldn't doubt if people grew tired of my sullen posts. But this is a place where I can tell the truth, where I can speak through writing honestly. These aren't fabrications, but realizations. No, I'm not the most unfortunate person on this planet. I haven't experienced something traumatizing that has changed my life. I have only experienced the things I feel have made me who I am. As I log these written experiences and how I feel about them, I hope that maybe I will find others out there who know exactly what I'm talking about.

"I think I was blind before I met you."

"This is the first day of my life. I'm glad I didn't die before I met you. But now I don't care, I could go anywhere with you and I'd probably be happy."

The other day, I laughed. There was a lift and a flutter and it sort of just came out. I'm sure I had the widest of widest grins on my face too, I could feel its giant tugs. I was driving home from Woodridge when it happened. And it's funny, because what brought it on I can't remember. All I know is that it was one of those quirky, cute memories that you keep forever. I probably recalled something funny Greg had said, followed by one of those goofy facial expressions he always does. In response to that, I usually laugh at his complete dorkiness. And then those baby blue eyes lighten and the most perfect smile I had ever witnessed in my life appears. That's when I experience raw happiness coursing through every molecule in my body. It's an emotion that you can't mistake or question- you have to know that it is what it is. Outwardly, I'm gushing at his off-the-charts cuteness level of course. Inwardly, I'm smiling again at where I've been and where I am now. I'm smiling at my past woes because they're meaningless to me now. The insignificant things I thought that mattered don't matter anymore because of that great smile that brings me home.

Applause From Loneliness

That blurry childhood

that I can't recall
Flipping through old calendars
wondering where the time went
Every photograph
in my mother's book
I always looked the same
The same damn facade
Just a little yellow songbird
in disguise
All those years
My greatest friend
was named Loneliness
He applauds me now
because I've made it through this life
Found the hidden finish line
His arms open wide
Those baby blue eyes
Green pools glistening
No more sad lines
in that songbird's face
The sound of happiness
ringing loud and clear
How I love it's tune
Stay with me this time

Plea

And discouraging things keep piling up. It seems that I won't ever catch a break or a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there will be that cliche light at the end of the tunnel. Hope is fleeting now, as much as I don't want to admit it. It always has this witty way of slipping right through my finger tips. Lost with no where to turn now, I drag my carcass through this life searching for the answer I know I won't find. Please, someone guide me. Because being my own guide has proven to get me where I always have been going: nowhere.

These Things

Good things are good. So if good things are good, then there's nothing to worry about. Worrying is useless when it comes to good things. It only makes things complicated when really it should be the easiest thing in the world. If everyone worried about good things, there wouldn't be much room to live. But you can't be careless. If you always think that a good thing is good when really it isn't, the people around you might notice your blindness and grow angry with you. You just need to be intelligent when it comes to observing good things as good. Once you know, everything is good and everything will continue to be.

More Ordeals

Blockage. There needs to be a push to the flow, so that the water can continue to perpetuate down the stream. Everything is cyclic and ever-moving. Any pauses or interruptions may prove to be mistakes that will be difficult to deal with in the future. My future. Grim and foggy as it looks currently, there are light areas populated with love and happiness. But beyond that there is nothing. And if there is nothing, I won't be anything. Useless. Dead weight. The strive for nothing. Desperation: a toothy, snarling creature with it's gangly, razor claws gingerly clamped around my brain. Corrupting it and taking it over, leaving no other room for other more important emotions that would enable me to decide. Decisions, decisions. Choices. Too great an obstacle to gather my frantic and terrified self to choose. More waiting makes the creature impatient, so it holds its grip tighter sometimes to remind me of what I'm supposed to do. I fear and fear and fear. I just need something to lift the spell that has been placed. I need a clear head and guidance.

"Careers are a 20th century invention and I don't want one."

How I wish that it was as easy as that. As much as I want to, I can't just up and disappear, become a leather tramp hippie and depend on nature and a single backpack filled with essentials. It'd be a comfortable, peaceful life, but society these days frowns upon outrageous or spontaneous dreams like that. And as much as I absolutely hate society's take on anything, it isn't a sensible lifestyle. You need guts and strong will to be able to live that way. And I just don't have that. I'd much rather spend my time appreciating the natural beauty of this world, but I know that I wouldn't have the courage to do what the late Christopher McCandless did. I'll just have to be an odd songbird in a city of fools, finding my way through this corrupt ridden society.

My View

I linger in the doorway when you're not looking, when you're too preoccupied by the waves of anguish that come over you. Your heartache becomes mine, and it consumes me. I only wish that I could cleanse you of it so that it can only be mine. I draw near, wanting so much to comfort you in your downfall. When you don't notice me, I make you notice. I push my face into yours, silently telling you that it's alright. When you look up with your glistening face, I sink. You acknowledge my existence and reach for me, holding me tightly. In that moment, I feel your muscles relax and your whimpering end. In that moment, I know that I have done what I was always meant to do.

Ten years I have walked the earth. And in my travels I have experienced all sides of human capacity, emotion, and tendencies that I have become somewhat of an expert on the subjects. The unfortunate part is that I wish so much that I wasn't. The human mind is such a fragile and complex system susceptible to hurtful things. I have seen immense pain and suffering by people I love the most. I would trade anything to gain the ability to lift this pain and suffering from their shoulders, to purge them of all the dilemmas in their lives. It would be so much easier for them if this were possible. I would be nothing more than a parasite feeding off their negative energy. I wouldn't mind a life like that.

Don't hurt too hard, don't hurt too long. It hurts me too. I am the dog.

Goose Feathers

A single goose slumbers in a dead, cold patch of grass next to a parking lot, directly in front of me. Her plume of gray-scaled feathers shimmer in the fluorescent lights. When I flash my car lights, she uncurls her head and looks around frantically for danger. I wish I could tell her that I won't harm her, that the animal instincts for self preservation can be tucked away in the back of her mind because they weren't needed with me near. Then I wonder why she's alone and where the rest of her flock is. Geese aren't usually seen alone, nor should they ever be allowed to be. It just isn't right. I feel sorry for the goose and I wish so much that I could welcome her to the comfort of my car so that she wouldn't have to be alone anymore. But I'm just a human. And she's a goose. Though we may look so different, we are actually just the same. We share the same goals and principles, and even the same situation. The only difference I see between us is that she carries the will and courage to pursue anything her heart desires. I re-think my beginning thoughts about this "lonely" goose. What if I have it all wrong? What if the goose is thinking exactly what I had initially thought about her, but about me? I realize that perhaps she had just stopped there on that frigid grass knowing that I would arrive there at the parking lot. I realize now that it is all reverse. She looks at me and sees the tuneless songbird who needs saving.

Lonely Tuesdays

I dread Tuesdays. Just when I get through one and continue through the week content as ever, another one likes to spring on me ready to attack. They should be permanently removed from the week. Who's going to miss them anyway? It's a day more insignificant than a Wednesday. Well, at least to me. I don't mean to sound selfish, but the only reason why I detest Tuesdays is because this is the only day out of the week when I'm away from the person that means everything to me. I'm sure he doesn't feel the same way about Tuesdays, he has this great feature in his mind that allows him to keep his head up no matter what's happening that day. I wish I had that. It'd be great to be able to appreciate free time rather than resent it. But I resent it because I can't stand being alone. I hate the feeling more than most other things. And I know exactly when it creeps up on me too. It's the quietness and the no signs of life around me that stirs it up. There's this heavy feeling in my heart and eyes. The ample step to my walk. And worst of all, the dazing. I sometimes sit and just stare. Daze. Thinking about nothing, thinking about everything. Thinking about how much I wish I had some sort of human companionship right there next to me. But I know all this could be much more difficult if I didn't have my trusty chihuahua with me. She's actually curled up next to me as I write, twitching in her slumber. I don't know where I'd be without this dog. She's been there for me when no human being could. In my darkest, loneliest times, she's been there. I owe her everything for that.

[Picture taken by my sister]

On Tuesdays such as this one, I try reasonably hard to find something to keep myself busy with. I mostly end up failing at this, but I've been successful on a few occasions when my mind didn't drift on something or when my eyes didn't begin to stare at something imaginary. Reading, watching a movie or t.v., facebook, surfing the web, and now recently, blogging. I tolerated Tuesdays a little better when I worked in the evenings. That way I only had to go half a day thinking about how much I missed my baby. I wonder if he misses me on these days as intensely as I miss him. He has things to keep him busy so I'm sure it's not as extreme. I'm not sure why I'm so dependent on human companionship now, I never was before. In my younger years, all I knew was loneliness. I had "friends" who enjoyed using me to benefit themselves, people who found it entertaining to taunt me, and only a couple people I could actually call friends. I'm guessing now that I finally have someone stable in my life, someone who isn't going to go anywhere or use me for his gain, I know that I'm not alone anymore. I'm finally not alone anymore. So it's only natural when these lonely Tuesdays come around and dig up that familiar feeling I had always known before, that I feel this way.

Bloom

Kindred, small, fleeting
pulse under the surface
A petty flicker surviving
Gray, frigid matter
creating the wall-
it wants it extinguished.
Weary of the gloom
and itching for the warmth
Sun kissed shriveled skin
soaking and melting
The smell of bitter grass
The cozy breeze dancing
The easy atmosphere
It's been a long winter.

Inspiration

"The second most important thing a passionate person can do to further their passion into a career is do that 'something.' For example, if you want to be a writer, write. If you want to be an artist, draw. If you want to be a game developer, develop a game." Funny how just the simple act of surfing the web for career help can lead you to articles such as this one. So this is where the article brought me. I'm not a very confident person, and I've come to accept that. Especially after my horrific failure in the attempt to become a Veterinary Technician at Joliet Junior College. But that's a long story I don't really feel like reliving just yet. Anyway, my lack of confidence is basically a ball and chain attached to my ankle all the time. It stops me from doing things that I want to do. Or maybe I start doing something and begin to doubt my skill and quit. Frankly, I'm tired of it. Stumbling upon this eye opening quote inspired me enough to get the hell out of the hole I always pre-dig for myself and start getting serious. I honestly have no idea what I want to do in the future, and it scares the crap out of me. Right now I have no future as far as I'm concerned. I'm a part-time working, college drop out. And while I do like to be spontaneous most of the time, having no map, no plan, no freaking blue prints to my future is probably the most frightening thing that's ever happened to me. I can never see past the day I'm living in. It's all consistent and gray. 

I've always liked two general topics- writing and art. If I am to get serious about finding the career for me, I might as well start there, right? So I'll be blogging for god knows how long. As for art, I'll probably doodle now and then. I've always done the bare minimum of the things I like to do because I always end up beating myself up for my lack of skill I thought I had. I never let myself believe that I could possibly be good at what I was doing. Maybe I was afraid to admit it, who knows. But I'm going to try to change that now.