I don’t think I’ve felt complete in years. All there. Like something gnawing at my brain — chewing on it. A hamster or a rat just munching away bit by torturous bit. Like watching a horror movie where everyone dies at the end — you know — but you have to watch them die one by one. Or that moment on a beach when you see the water pull out for a couple kilometers out and it dawns on you — you’re impending doom has found you. Gnawing. Selfishly away. Over time the little cretin becomes more confident and begins to take bigger bites no longer feeling the need to hide or play subtle because it has you. It has you. It knows it. You know it. I know it. Found a tree where the cretin doesn’t seem to be able to reach. The rodent doesn’t like plans or heights. Especially plans made at a height above its misery. Some would say rope a dope. Dodge some more punches. Its got you up against the ropes so use the rope for momentum to deliver a straight right to Death’s jaw. I’ll use the rope for momentum alright. This. This is a rope to cope but not for hope. Nope. The tree gave me an approving nod when we settled our agreement eye to eye. The knots of the wood wouldn’t whisper not to which was a surprising comfort. An outstretched branch almost chose me as it looked down upon my mental rodent with disdain. It knew my pain. So. It continues. Gnawing. Biting. Chewing violently. Yes, God, lead me not into temptation and deliver me from this unwelcome visitor. Guide me to my rope to cope.
I told you that you have a real shot. I don’t have to tell you that I’ve changed. I think you’ve already seen it and felt it. I think you know it deep down. You feel that I want nothing from you other than you to out live me by one more day. If he is your best shot at carrying you through to tomorrow than I’m his biggest fan. I’m man enough to admit that we’ll never work out or be the same as we were. Sure, its painful, but seeing hope arise in your eyes even for one more minute is worth a thousand eternities in my hell.
When you’ve lost it all and Death comes a’knockin’ you see what really matters in this life. I lost myself in a flurry of unbalanced neurotransmitters and inordinate emotional pain and an incessant rage that I shot every which way at anyone close by. After the dust and my mind has settled into this depressed state I’ve come to grips with who I was before all this pain. Found my heart underneath the grime and it’s still gold. I’ve gotten most of my affairs in order — with my website up and running, and a basic youtube tutorial video, and buying my grandmothers some flowers for christmas on their grave stones. I want them to know I’m coming soon.
I never told you this but you taught me what real love looks like. You fought my disease for two years. If there was something in this life close to unconditional love — it was you. I feel like I’m just beginning to feel that for you now — little too late — but I want to thank you for all you taught me, darlin’. You’re all that matters to me at this point. I’m so lucky to have met you. I just wanna see you smile even if its not me that does it.
Whispers in the wind do I only hear when you’re not here
I bought you flowers so a petal falls every time my pedal hits metal
For every risky move I breathe in a soft wish for death
But you already know that…
I ask for nothing but peace for you as your memory lays 6 millimeters under
May the wounds of your fathers stop in the afterlife where answers come
I wasn’t the best grandson but may my intentions and good heart be plain as day
But you already see that…
There weren’t always obvious roads to take in the clouds of confusion
Paths I rejected accepted me wholeheartedly until I was too far down to turn
Spirit remains as I feel you all around me guiding me into nothingness
But you already said that…
Wishes deferred have made my soul sick grandmere
Dreams dead and gone have made my mind depressed granny
Loves crushed and destroyed have eroded Fortune’s goodwill my dearest grandmothers
But you already feel that…
You hope I’m okay? Yeah, I hope you are too. I’m not sure of much these days I’ll say that is for sure. You know? I guess sitting here in front of the river it’s like you’re way over there, on the other side. I see you, you see me and we both see this chasm between us. I definitely feel it. It feels like a closed chapter if I had to articulate it. I woke up from a nightmare that lasted for months. I woke up to my normal nightmare, that is. But you have no idea how waking up to you across this river feels like, when, I feel as though I never had any say in the matter. I mean, I have so many questions and the worst part is, I don’t think you would answer me any of them. Subconsciously I’m preparing my coffin despite me trying to keep my head up and on the level and I know that. But I see dead people. I see and speak to the passed away. Your ghost. I woke up and you vanished. If this sounds out of character for me — it is — because I’ve never felt so low. Not to underscore the impact you had on me either — that goes without saying. I think there’s something to be said for closure is what I’m getting at.
I guess being direct isn’t both of our strongest suit. But, I really wish you would’ve told me straight up and me not finding out on the forum while I was laying in that med bed. Hadn’t checked in probably about a month and the one night I do I read that. Bollox to be fair. I figured you would’ve told me straight after all we’d faced. Were you looking out for me? I try to tell myself that maybe you were. The truth is most likely that you just didn’t really care regardless. You moved on. I guess despite what happened the things I uttered you hold against me despite how knackered I was. She had the same initials as you. The blonde. How sadistically coincidental right? I’d send this to you but the walls between us are miles thick. Questions. Never any closure. There you are, across the river.
I think there’s such a thing as bastardized insanity. An insanity that you have no ownership of but it follows you around like a helpless stray dog panting for you to feed the pitiful thing. We all know what that’s like. Well, I do anyway. It’s something of a ball and chain. Forever fettered to this gargantuan weight pulling you down to an insecure comfort — walk the plank with your own personal anchor. The travails of purgatory begging to be acknowledged when all you desperately seek is one breath. One measly breath above the undertow. The heart of the sea, indeed, when water is all you can see for a visual infinity — makes for a poor existence.
I continue to face experiences in my ocean that make me question an absolutist reality. That there is such a thing as an objective experience. I truly don’t think there is any one way. There may be islands and isthmus of similarity that we may run ashore and, for a brief moment and undulating wave in time agree — and, just as quickly as that agreement washed up on our common sand — it returns to it’s own oblivion of mystery. Forgotten and never known except by the two, who, for a speck of time, found themselves nodding to the same sound. How beautiful? Yet, simultaneously equally miserable. As the tunnel ticks and the sun sleeps, we accept and release. Natural cycles of this life. Breathe in and heave out the old. To abandon my proverbial ship, this eloquent speech and poetic floating device — bastardized insanity is a *****.