“I’m like miles of gold and silver” they said.

I find myself in the absolute worst places around 5am. And thus minds completely wonder why people who perform all the time take their own lives when piles after piles of things begin to fall and stagger. It’s a wavering cost right in front of your face, and it pulls at you from the direct underbelly of the weight that cements itself to you all at once. The frailty of falling, over and over again – and the magnitude of wires that you wrap around your face just so that you can feel something else for a fraction of a moment. You let it take you somewhere, and then you let it be a prelude to any type of resolution that you just fucking may be able to grab a hold of. Just for one god damn minute.

Sometimes I can barely breathe. For whatever it is out there, the bulleting vulnerability that it feeds. It is a reckoning, harsh place that forces you to bury your elbows into gravel as you are being dragged backwards into what becomes the futility of not throwing yourself through a welcomed clouded window pane.

And to be trapped between walls. May as well be trapped inside of them. At least then you could press your hands tightly into the supports so they may give you some, or ‘any’ type of founded lead. Instead you just yell at yourself. Distract. Watch that meter fill up and drain right out since all of the holes are still just sitting there. I guess it’s easier for some, maybe you don’t feel it. Maybe you are programmed to remind yourself that “this is how things are suppose to be”. I get it. I just don’t buy it. And I refuse to start now.

I honestly don’t blame anyone, or anything. I detest a shit ton of human behavior mostly. But we are all aware of that, and only sometimes people are willing to demand more from it. Don’t demand it, just lay there and have it all sewn up inside of you so that it becomes your norm, and your new ‘happy’ narrative – “hey I’m all fixed, right?”. Let it guide you on to finding whatever it is that devoured you before, because it knows “how” to feed you anyway. It sure the fuck does. Always.

And I’m here. And I sure as fuck do not like today. And I probably won’t like tomorrow. And I will feel everything ten times more than everyone else, since its how I’m wired. And some just don’t get it, or maybe they just don’t find the necessity of “getting it”. And that’s fine.

Just go fucking ahead and smile. And please, please, fucking mean it for once.

Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don’t kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, “He fought so hard.” And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong. Shoot the Damn Dog: A Memoir of Depression

You say you’re ‘depressed’ – all i see is resilience. You are allowed to feel messed up and inside out. It doesn’t mean you’re defective – it just means you’re human. – Cloud Atlas

Just filling the gaps.

Note 1271
Just not having it today.

Note 1272
Long weekend, shitty weather. Some shitty thoughts. You wonder how much it can bend you, and how much will set in. The ebbs are nothing to scream about, and they never make up for any of the gaps. You just pour out whats left in your cup, and kind of look into the bottom. Struggle with it, drown it.

Note 1273
Too much at once, the flood of it all. It’s the most frightening thing I know.

Heavy rain with a chance of fail.

I could rattle on about anger but I’m not. I could stumble through some epiphany of “what does anything mean anymore” regarding the deafening roar of the present but I’m not. I could say that “hey oh I’m not sad at all”, but I won’t. Because it’s mostly untrue. I could braid any of the previous into some kind of frail “self-help bullshit” story like I have in the past but I will try not to. Because I’m really not compelled to do any of that. As of now.

So exactly what? I guess I would say that I am mostly numb. Outlined in shades of abandonment. Definitely let down.  Slightly shocked, but then again not really. Do I care? Absolutely. Do I contain the energy to feel like I need to add resolution to anything? Of course not. Did I behave and adhere to things that are solely my own? I feel I did. I don’t claim a perfection of  behavior by any means but I do have a predictable “relationship regiment” that I am likely to follow. Mostly simple things. I don’t lie. I have not been unfaithful in 22 yrs to anyone that I have been romantically involved with. I don’t rally in manipulation nor do I subplot mind games to outwit the obstacles of love. I trust easy. I trust the honesty that I receive, and I value that brutal honesty highly.

Nothing is perfect. We are not wired that way. We are littered in flaws. It’s ok, I understand human consciousness becomes oblivious at times. Like tunnel vision, the blurring of sidelines, choices become less apparent all the time…we fall, we fail – I get it – over and over. But still, ultimately when you step back (and you should do that quite often), you always have to be ready to own your damn life decisions. The good and the bad. You know people can preach about “tough love” and whatnot.. Yes. It’s not rocket science. Life owes you nothing. Ever. There is no fine print in the book of the world that says “if you do this, you will get that”. That just does not exist. In every sense of this phrase Always be mindful of your fucking actions, they will paint your story across your face. They will turn the pretty in you, into the ugly that other people see. And that to me, is the most disheartening residual fallout in relationships. I never give up on people easy. I rarely throw in the towel until I absolutely have to. I am always the first person that’s there to pick you up, holding the pieces against my side saying “this is fixable, just give it the time – it’s ok”.

It’s the cancer of half-truths that are sewn into what you want to read as ‘your narrative’. I don’t fully understand how people begin to wear that. They would rather re write their story (ex.” ghosting”) and make it something else so that they can stand outside of the reality of their own choices. It’s easy math I understand, in our brittle lifespan no one wants to feel discord about anything they do – but sometimes you need to step back and say “hey I fucked up, I made a mistake – and I am truly sorry”.

In 46 years of living, I can emphatically say that I can count on less fingers of one hand – the number of people who are capable of even making a sincere statement such as that. And that is why I am numb today. And probably tomorrow. And I’m sure for the next good while. I am tired of making excuses for that behavior. I grow fucking weary of all the nights wrestling with “why is it a fucking chore for someone to believe that this isn’t  appropriate – I know inside it’s not, so why would I attempt to convince myself that it is?”. Breathe decently. It defines you. Your heart does count for something. If you are not happy where you are, then change it. People will get the fuck over it. But understand that there are finite ramifications in everything you do. Even when you run away from something, it’s still fucking waiting there at 3am. Sometimes you really have to destroy everything in your comfort zone to find your peace, and it’s ok – we are human. But also in doing that, you must say “I know what I did. I see how it hurt, I see who it hurt and next time, maybe in the next venture it will be different. I will be different. I will know then that I am still trying to find my way.”

It tires me. I can’t fix what was broke before I was even there. No one can. That is fucking on you. Why I thought I could change something, was asinine. It was my fail, so it’s my fall. And I will miss pieces of it every single day. You will never see what was right, until you admit to yourself what was wrong. And I guess it takes people a life time of bullshit thrown at them to find that.

So find it.

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald