When you can't reach the one that needs you

What do you do when the person on the other end of the line is in pain? They're not with in any distance that you could reach them. They're not even aware that you're struggling inside trying to figure out what you can do from this distance and how much it pains you to know that it's nothing.

I am in pain but my pain becomes obsolete when I know that others feel pain. If I could I would take it away and absorb it in to myself. I can handle it. I've handled worse. This is not to say that I believe people are weak or incapable of pain tolerance....it's to say that I would bear it for them. That I would take it away and feel it just so you didn't have to. Because I don't want you to.

If I was standing right in front of you I wouldn't know what to say. I never know what to say I just know what to do. I wish that I was insivible so I could just travel around you without you ever having to see me. Without ever having to hear a judgement because of how I look, but only how happy you are to talk to me. To know that you call for no reason other than to talk without expectation.

I want to take care of you because it's what I do.



But you won't let me.

In the green fields of france

When pain receptors start firing strange thoughts occur. I begin to wonder where tolerance for it comes in and where pure ignorance of my feelings happens. Have I become so adjusted to these sensations that I am no longer aware of the true feelings that occur within my body?

Two weeks. With each day the pain increases and so does the lull that I succumb to in order to function. Stopping is not an option. It doesn't exist, it will never occur. Time only exists because humans felt the need to label the passing of the shadows and that is why we believe it can be stopped. It doesn't really exist, therefore you cannot stop it. Stopping does not exist.

I will push forward and hope for realization.

An excerpt from a short story I once wrote

Puffy eyes, cigarette smoke, dusty kitchens, ice. Oh ice. Oh baby. Being 13 and watching Ricky get tossed into a dumpster. That was when his friends were still his friends, before they watched him get pummeled. Before they let him get a swift kick to the left eye. They tried helping though, but no one got it as bad as Ricky.

“You’re good,” he told me later that week, black eye bulging. “Too good to be friends with us.” He was living with his girlfriend and she was cheating on him with his friends, their brothers, her neighbors. He got kicked out of his house for smoking too much weed, for drinking too much. I was reading Salinger.

Fuck, we were 13.

Another day in paradise

I come here everyday, each previewing the next as some ill disguised understanding of the first. I come here without intention or rather, without the afterthought intention succumbs to. I come here bearing nothing of value because it is reinforced that what worth is rightfully so shall have tangible discourse about such tangible things that i could never possess, even once I eliminated the reality of my virtual world.
When the gathering commences, one little girl will greet those who have entered into the festivities of chance, never quite as memorable as the soft laughter that resonates from the belly of her. She will offer you an olive branch, the tendrils dancing in unison to the beat of an undeveloped mystery.
I leave here everyday, the cause of sensationalised satisfaction to undermine that very reality of worth I could not possess. A drunken lullaby of character remission by that which was never evident in here, the conjunction of rhetoric and perhaps an object of avoidance. I leave here, not so much rattled as sated by the security of self defiance.
What here may aspire to be was never as accepting of tentative interaction, the chance that some unidentified version of a true reality might come along and create a desire for something less left to chance.

I find you randomly offensive

So in trying to find an Narcotics anonymous group I have learned one thing. People think God solves all problems. I asked a therapist and my Drugs Behavior and Health professor about locations that hosted the meetings and he directed me to the basement of a local church, gave me a day and a time. I went. There was no meeting. It was merely a collection of random strangers socializing for what reason I'm still unaware. I spoke with a man named Paul who told me about some AA meetings but I was uninterested.

When I went back to my professor and told him that there was no meeting there or anywhere in that town he merely replied "I know, but keep going despite the idiosyncracies."

I will not go back but I will find out what they were doing there.

I've realized that despite all religion people only end up where ever someone else believes they have. God is supposed to be all knowing, all seeing, and all powerful but in reality he was just a good illusionist. Get mad at your son? Tell the world that killing him is the only way to save them and they will let you.

This is an excerpt from one of my old journals.

"So what does God matter anyway? We're supposed to believe in a man who only had a son so he could watch other's kill him. God fearing? Fear the watcher in the sky? The boogie man? Repent and it iwill save your soul. If nto then you go to hell. What if my heaven is a lot like hell anyway? What then? Do I just accept the lesser version?

Why exactly are we to follow this when it's just a million people's translation over and over and over...

and each one says they're better than the rest. So can I write my own book?

The seven deadly sing amuse me. Most are common sense that a lot of people lack and go figure, they don't believe in God anyway. But the one's that do...like that guy in the front in the full suit? He thinks that coming here on Sunday's will make it better that he's fucking his neighbors wife.

So really now...do you know if there's a heaven or hell? What if you went by the Good book your whole life and then died only to find out you're just....dead?

That would suck now wouldn't it?

Yup. Big time."

After reading that again I realize that it doesn't matter if either of those places exist outside of a person's mind. After you're dead it doesn't matter if you're worm food. Someone else has placed you in this grand illusion of there being a great place where you're at peace and surrounded by love or they've dismissed you to the most horrid place.

Really now, it only matters after you're dead anyway.

Just the Beginning

Two weeks ago, I watched a video of a walrus masturbating. I read about two ducks murdering and raping the carcass of the third duck. Two male giraffes had sex with each other. The true nature of the animal kingdom was revealed to me in one single museum exhibit. I felt naive and silly for blushing at something so natural. How much more information is waiting to be learned, witnessed, shared? So much.

Just for the sake of the sake of it

This might come as a surprise to you but whatever it is you find yourself doing at this moment, it isn't worth the effort you are giving it. HA!

My arrogance appalls me in this, the hour of my undoing. What dare preach a love for ignorance shall fortify such ignorance if and only if happiness was sedated. I will hold what is dear to me only as long as it wills to stay, the remainder of choice only as evident as this will exudes. Be joyous and deft in such joy will be endless.