Oh, what a wonderful world it is. To be free and alive and happy, friends and family; to love and be loved in return; to look at another human being and rejoice in their uniqueness and be as accepted for who and what I am, warts and all...
I wonder what that is like. Recent events have suggested that I am indeed about one bad hamburger away from going full on Joker.
I often wonder why we cannot hear the delicate fragile tethers that connect us together as a social animal begin to tear and rend.
To be true, I am not as social as I had fantasized. Truth be told, I have a deep ingrained hatred of myself, and a near complete lack of self-respect that is reflected onto everyone else. I know myself and my weaknesses, I see my dark side and am aware of what goodness exists within, and when confronted with a slight I have given, I become heartbroken: when will I cross that line that allows me to Love Others fully, which then would allow a form of Loving Myself.
Well, again, to be true: some go out of their way to just frankly piss me off. I try to go along to get along, and then someone says or does something rude or condescending. Having a limited amount of self-respect, I can take a joke. God help you if you cannot, because once I have had enough, I am done, caution to the wind, raise the red flag of rage and gird your loins. Once started I must finish else the residue builds into the assault level of anger and blind unreason that will eventually collapse into suicidal depression.
Worst thing I know about my life is this: Sadly, my "friends and family" just cannot wrap their sad, meager (lack of) intellect around one single fact of reality....
Occasionally, like it or not, I am right and worse, I know what I am talking about.
That should be acceptable, but no. I find that it is not so.
A sense of self-deprecating humor is mistaken for error in every judgement.
I have lost friends in the past, and may be doing so again. So be it, selah. There isn't enough of "me" left to focus on anything other than mere survival. The ground beneath me is unstable, the simplest of pleasures are denied for the best of reasons, but they are the things that make life worth living, and make fighting the good fight acceptable... with the little happy things gone, all that is left is toil...
Fuck Sisyphus: the myth that explains my lot, and I think that of so many others, is Tantalus, placed in the Greek Hades with all pleasures forever just out of reach. This is the now: this is the commonplace. Our reach can no longer match that which we would grasp.
Snarling and growling, demanding not the bread and circus but pizza, beer and American Idol.
Demanding respect without ever matching it in delivery.
Demanding acceptance without accepting others...
I feel that kinship, that understanding: no more into the realm of what I could be but instead that lowest level of anarchy, that sense that the watching the world burn makes much more sense than bothering to help, or love...
Some men just want to watch the world burn. Some men just want to make a meal of the rest of us.
So be it. Selah.
Seeking redemption is pointless when it is not available. I will never apologize for those actions and words (are they not the same?) that are unforgivable.
Angels are flawless, and being flawless have no need of shame. If I have no shame, do I then become angelic?
My father and my mother never followed me to Dream Time... and I will not come back from that Dark Carnival of Unmentionable Delights.
Have a nice motherfucking and fatherfucking day!
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