We All Want to Die, Just be Patient

Everyone in this godforsaken pit called Tucson is just waiting to die or to find inspiration to do it themselves. From my friends and family to my barber and colleagues. What the fuck are you waiting for? Do you think your life is going to get any better moping around or drinking yourself to sleep? How about you actually try to get the job you want or find the love you need or indulge in whatever will make you happy.

Everyone is struggling, you think I don't want to die? Nearly every time I pass a bus or drive by a car going fast I think about turning my steering wheel and letting it end. But that's such a waste. I've got a book to write, a past to atone for, family and people who are counting on me. And you do too, you've got things all of us need you for. You have things all of us want you for.

Don't give up, don't give in yet. Somewhere between now and the time you actually die is when you're going to feel the most alive. Sometime between love and after heartbreak you'll meet your future partner. Sometime between between hello and goodbye you'll have your most interesting conversation. It's all on the horizon. Want to join me chasing the sun?

If you can't run I'll definitely walk with you. And if you can't do that... Maybe someone could help me carry you? I'm not giving up, I'm not giving up on anything or anyone. We're all worth it, we all deserve the very best and we can all find it. If we try to. Give into your desires and admit what you want, that's the first step. Then start running.

Alco-Satyriasis/Ego-Narcissism - A Tale of Self Loathing

So here we are, a month later. The world didn't collapse, that's amazing! I was so ready for gravity to reverse, for oxygen to dissipate, the ocean to evaporate. What happened? For all the claims I made it turns out they were nothing more than theories and perceptions.

Everyone thinks they have me figured out, that they know what I'll do next. I guess you haven't realized yet, who I am. Self loathing, uninspired, melodramatic? Call me what you want but you'll never see me for who I am. I'm an amazing person, I guess you missed that. Do you even understand, the ambition and depth behind the wall I put up? Its more than you'll ever know, you'd never keep up. Honestly I don't even know if I can keep up.

I'm on track to be an author in my early twenties. Half baked or otherwise it'll still be astounding. I've made dozens, maybe hundreds of friends and associates over the last year. And its not like you're that special, you're the second one to break my heart this year. I guess I fall fast. You should have held on when you had a chance because now I'm renewed and I'll find someone more deserving.

I should have told you not to underestimate me. You have no idea. The pain I've survived through the last five years. Yeah, I do have a small side of me with depressive/suicidal tendencies. But I've kept it in check all this time through lost family members, friends, love, jobs, school and two different states... Suffering in general. I've never given in, I won't start for you, I've given you too much already.

You were right, I am better off, But you aren't. I respect myself far too much to get back into contact with you anyways. 

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Aren't you being a bit selfish? How are we better off apart, I've grown too attached. I don't care what happens to me anymore I just need to talk to you.

I overestimated myself this time. I thought I was strong enough alone but I've barely managed to keep myself alive these last few years. Everything is weighing me down, not just you. All the things I've done, all the people I've lost. I feel myself giving in, I'm on my knees.

What did I think I was without you? I tell myself I'm a writer, I'm a joke. I can write a shit character and a slightly engaging environment. Don't even get me started on my god awful plots. I surround myself with unfaithful friends, beggars and rejects. I put myself to sleep cashing in on my shallow relationships and a bottle of wine. Waking up on couches with people I don't care about or care to start. I should have put stock into our relationship, I should have begged you to stay. If I'm lucky I'll spend a few nights in the next year in a bed with a stranger who's name I'll be fortunate enough not to remember.

You understood, you supported the person I was meant to be. I was loving, responsible, ambitious and stable. I don't know how you knew me so well. How you dismantled all the barriers I placed so carefully to keep you out. The dreams I have are more than I could ever be, your success is more than I will ever feel.

Its been a month now, everything is crumbling in my hands. It feels like Earth has stopped spinning. I find it hard to breathe. Which breath will be my last? Surely by tomorrow I'll be drunk or high off something with someone I'll never know. Or if I do it won't be outside of the sheets of her bed. All of the things I said I was, its laughable. Dreams and stories, that's what I'm good at. Making shit up.

Our Fake Goodbye

I picked you up from work today, "I was just thinking about Monday..." you told me.

"Oh, Monday." I thought, "The worst day of my life in recent history!" I didn't realize today would mark the day where we trump that... Although I had a pretty good idea. Realizing quite some time ago you stopped looking at me like you cared at all, I accept my fate and drive thirty minutes out of my way to pick you up from work.

You get into my car already on the phone with your sister. Talking about financial matters of course, the ruling factor of all of our lives. Not wanting to be rude I start driving, the day started off normal why couldn't it end normal? Hey, maybe, just maybe you were referring to the fact that we overcame our argument and grew because of it. Maybe you were citing my speech about how much I care(d) about you, maybe you wanted to thank me and give me a hug for being, I don't know, supportive and loving. Perhaps you were going to apologize for the way you made me feel and reconcile with me.

Of course that little delusion was shattered so quickly I couldn't even pull out of the parking lot. Very quickly our conversation changes from "How was school?" to "It's cliche but it really is me!" I wasn't really interested in arguing or fighting it any longer. So I put on my alternative persona, the strong version of Ian. The one that can stand up to people and handle accusations. More importantly the one I've adopted every time someone I love walks out on me.

I tried to get you to spare the excuses, the reasoning, was there any really? Love isn't cause and effect. X doesn't cause Y and Y doesn't necessarily even exist in reality. Anyways, my current Ian was very mature and composed. Even though I didn't want to hear it I let you finish. Not that I really had an option! I was stuck inside that box for about an hour trying not to punch my window out or hang myself using my belt and sun visor.

Its unfortunate that it wasn't my fault. I really would have preferred it was. "Is she being honest with me?" I wondered. Because if you're truly being honest with me and I didn't have any say in it from the start what was the point? Why was I trying so hard and changing so much for something doomed to fail. Ian at that moment tried to play it cool, talk about the future and possibility of being friends. Honestly I think all of my personas believe(d) that were going to end up in each other's arms again before the end of the year.

Whoever I was at that moment, I wasn't sure I could do it without you. You gave me so much confidence and support its unreal. More than my family I've lived with 20 years can provide, more than my parents have given me throughout that whole time. How can I go back to the life I had before? You know the trick where someone pulls the table cloth out from under a dinner table and everything remains intact? Its like that... Except everything fell and broke.

You were the glue that held it all together. How can I return to my shitty part time job and feed my soul into people who will never see me as more than a name tag? Who's going to listen to and support me when I fail and my life is falling apart? Who's going to encourage me to enroll in classes and work on my writing? Who's going to give me ideas and tips on my stories?

I asked you some of these questions and you told me I did just as much for you, that I helped you just as much. How can that be true? How can you tell me I mean as much to you but you're willing to leave me? I just feel that working past our problems is a much better method than running away from them and avoiding our own issues. However I don't raise these points any further.

No, I had the chance to make the call Monday and I chose to fight for you. You chose to run today. There's no sense fighting a war no one is interested in winning, right? So we arrive at your house, my gas light on as usual. Somehow we managed to make a 30 minute drive take an hour, that can't be just traffic, right? It felt like time itself was fighting for us, giving us just that much longer to reconcile.

I slowly open my mouth, "Anything left to say?" I say as I stare with a blank expression at my steering wheel. It seemed that we talked out our reasons, our feelings and our regrets in a mere hour, I guess that's all the last two months have been worth to you. Hey, I get it, I'm definitely not worth a coffee. Hell at this point I'd settle for tea, or water or even gasoline and a match.

No that's all that's left to say. I couldn't even look at you. You say goodbye and I say one word, "Yup." That's what I muster. "Yup." No last kiss, I don't get out and hug you, I don't even look at you when I say it. I've always been horrible at saying what I feel. I've also been horrible at being assertive so when you combine the two I become a simple, one word person.

Being a creative writer I feel that my ability to express and speak should be greater. But they aren't and I'm not perfect. I have and probably always will have social anxiety. But this is my chance to speak my mind, even if it is writing and not speaking.

I've been waiting all day for the panic to start, for my life to start falling apart. And not a damn thing has happened. I guess that's an optional practice of a break up, or as I like to put it, "growing apart." You never held my hand at work, I forced my way in there and fought for myself every day. You never helped me study for my entrance exams, I did that myself. You never wrote my stories or edited them, you only gave me suggestions.

I can do this on my own. I can, I truly believe that or I can find someone else to do it with me. Don't misunderstand, this isn't a "Fuck you, I'm better off!" post. I just want you to know, I'll be alright. And maybe the panic will come, maybe I'll break down a few days later or even in a few hours but thinking clearly I feel pretty good.

Let me explain to you what I will be upset about. I love(d) you Claire. I love(d) waking up and talking to you first thing in the morning. I love(d) when you wrote to me or gave me mementos. I love(d) how hard and loud you laughed at my shitty jokes or just in general. I love(d) how passionate and creative and beautiful you are/were.

I'm upset that the night we danced on the rooftop is always going to be just a memory and never something we can revisit. I'm upset that I won't be able to go to open mic night or my favorite cafe without thinking about you. I'm upset when I write my story because I think about how you were and still are the only one in existence (except one schmuck in New York) who read it. I'm upset that I won't get to see you be happy again, that I'll never see love in your eyes again. I'm just upset thinking the last time I may ever see you my last word, not even words, was "Yup."

But as much as it sucks, I'm still glad I met you. Do you remember? It was raining just like this the day we met. The day we kissed. The day I fell in love with you. I saw this moment coming weeks ago but I couldn't let go. I'll tell you this much. In my experience it has always been easier holding on than letting go. Even if its better for everyone to let it go.

I hope you'll be happy. I hope you achieve your dreams. I hope you get your place and stay safe. Who knows, maybe one day we will run into each other again. Maybe then you'll be ready. Maybe if it is meant to be, it will be. If not I just hope we both find happiness, love and a place in this world. I love you Claire, but I want to let go.

Even though I want to, I feel like I never will. Now I stare at my phone waiting for a text or a call. I think about ways I could run down to your house and win you back. I thought about finishing my next chapter so I could send you a progress report. I know if you called me now I would answer, I know if you text me I would drop whatever I'm doing. I know if I saw you I would run up to hug you. I miss you already, six hours later. I hope you see this someday. I hope I hear from you again, I hope I hear from you soon.

Illusions of Superiority

What would you say makes a person superior? Is it a job title, a salary, perhaps intelligence or physical strength? What exactly gives one power, in fact does power even exist? The more you think about it the more you'll come to realize it is something people have accepted as true without questioning at all.

Maybe you can make an argument that power does exist, that there are people superior to you. You go to work everyday and there is always someone above you. They can tell you what to do, how to think and treat you how they want. If they wanted to they can fire you for insubordination, they can scream at you, demote you, etc.

But what power have they taken from you? They might tell you what to do but you are the one who chooses to follow, you are the one who decides if it is acceptable to you. No one can take power away from you, they can't force you to do anything, you still hold the power. They can fire you, they can scream all they want, sure, but they cannot control you. What they hold over you is not power, it is not superiority. It's fear.

Nothing is stopping you from standing up and walking out that door and no one can. A position within a company doesn't stop people from talking back and it sure as hell won't protect you when someone swings at you. If you choose to keep a job you hate, if you have to let someone yell at you, I understand. We all make sacrifices for ourselves, for others but just remember that you're in control everyday of your life. Today, tomorrow, forever until the time your body stops and your mind is extinguished.

Power, superiority and even authority are all illusions the world pretends are true. You are not lesser, you are not weaker than anyone, it's just a matter of willpower and resolve. If you're going to fight the world, if you are going to destroy the lies you have to be prepared for the consequences. Whether something is real or not if enough people believe in it they can influence the rest of the world.

You can choose to fight, you can stand up for yourself. Just be prepared those who follow the illusions, who accept them to be true have built monuments in it's name. Prisons, death sentences, torture are all still very real. The question is, will you bow down to the illusion of superiority or will you risk your life for a better chance at freedom?

If enough people believe in something they can influence the world and they can change it. If enough people are willing to fight for what the believe, they will.

Reminiscence

Are you ever just sure you want to be alive? I know I don't want to die, I don't want to kill myself; I just don't know if I want to live. Maybe I don't know how to. I mean, I have a lot to live for, I have a lot I want to do and I have a ton of people I care about. I feel anger at times, I feel sad some days, I feel happy and euphoric others. Yet, I can't shake this feeling, even though I want to.

Apathy must truly be the strongest feeling I'm capable of feeling. When I'm angry I can feel sad simultaneously or when I'm happy I can easily feel love for someone. Pain can blend with any of those emotions, oddly enough. But somehow apathy can devoid my heart and mind of anything else. It devours my personality, my mood, my emotions and it spits out a shell.

Even typing words into my computer today brings me no pleasure. I wouldn't call it writers block, I have the ability to write, I know what I want to put down. I just can't do more than a few sentences or paragraphs before losing interest or jumping into bed to recuperate.

Some people would probably be glad to feel nothing, they would be happy to get a break. But I can remember several extremely sad and depressing times in my life that were more fascinating and invigorating than this. I remember driving myself home after breaking up with my first girlfriend. I remember crying in the car for about 10 miles and I can think of that as a happy memory compared to today.

Maybe something needs to break, maybe I need to change myself again. In New York I had about 3-7 different personalities that I could use depending on my environment, the person I was talking to and the mood of the day. Today I feel that I've become one person, one sulking, depressing, complaining son of a bitch.

How I miss the failures, the dramas and stress of my old life. I've grown so much through those failures, I've developed so much through all the stress and anxiety. People look back at failures and regrets like they're a negative, are you kidding? They need to be celebrated and praised. Failures don't define you, maybe that's true, but they sure as hell change and mold you.

Think about it, whatever your failure is, it changes you in some way. If you drink too much and get a hangover you learn to control yourself. If you get into a bad relationship and decide you never want that again, it changes your preferences. If you spend too much money next time you'll change your habits. You could say this is only changing your methods but like it or not it is changing the way you think and act, it is creating you.

Perhaps, the label is the mistake. Maybe we shouldn't call it a failure, it isn't really a regret if you've learned from it. Although I feel I would take back some things if I could help it, perhaps it is better that I can't. Whoever I need to be tomorrow is something I've built since the day I was born. Through failure, success, death and life. I have grown, that's something I don't ever want to stop. If that means falling on my face every couple of steps, so be it.

The First Flight

My name is Anna, age 21, a veteran Phoenix. I've spent three years in battle, three years narrowly avoiding death and fighting for what is right. Three years is considered a long time to most of my colleagues, most recruits die within the first six months, many of them in their first conflict. My father lasted four years, my brother just less than five. I coughed up a bit of a chuckle, I guess we're stubborn.

I still remember my father's strong back, his rugged face and full mustache. He always had cigarettes with him, even if he went weeks without smoking. To this day the smell still calms me down and makes me feel at home. Guess that's how I picked up the habit. People say it makes your body slow down, makes you weaker but I had bigger concerns. Smoke wasn't going to kill me, if my lungs we going to collapse it would be a bullet or dagger that did the trick.

Most of my childhood I spent with my brothers, Evan and Adam. Evan was quiet and respectful. If mom or dad asked something of him, he did it. No questions asked. I always admired his resolve and stoic personality. He was 16 when our father left. He spoke through action, spending most of his time making sure we would be alright and that Adam knew how to pick up where he would leave off. The day he turned 18 he left to join the Phoenix revolution. Mother begged him not to, Adam took her side but I was so proud of him for fighting for what he thought was right.

Adam was 14 when father left. He handled it a lot worse than any of us, save my mother. I would come into his room every once in awhile to see what he was up. More often than not I would find him in a ball, crying or sleeping, sometimes both. It was around the time my mother fell ill with tuberculous that Adam became the man of the house. He was no fighter, he didn't care about the cause, all he cared about was his family. I could understand his feelings but I couldn't help but feel a bit disgusted with him at times. I thought he was a coward.

I was three years younger than Adam, 11 when my father left. I was the youngest child and the only daughter. Around the time I turned 17 my mother passed away. It affected me less than I would have liked, there were times I would have liked to cry or mourn her but it never felt that way. Instead I felt an overwhelming rage building inside me. My mother could have been saved, she should have been cured but at the end of the day people are more interested in money than lives. In this country you either die in battle or die of exposure. I was going down kicking and screaming.

As a child, teenager, even now as a young adult I never asked for much. Whatever I wanted I fought for, I got it myself. If I needed clothes I would make them or pick up a job to buy them. If I was hungry I went hunting. If I was sick I would ignore it and carry on as if everything was normal. Money was scarce in my town, everyone was fighting just to survive.

Survival is something any creature can do, I wanted to see my people thrive. The day I turned 18 I decided to follow in Evan's footsteps and join the cause. I pleaded with Adam to come with me but he had become something I couldn't even recognize. He spent his days working, drinking, depressed and trapped in the past. As far as I could tell he was already dead, a ghost. No ambition, no reason to be alive, just haunting the house with nothing left but regrets.

I knew the road ahead of me was going to be hard but I wasn't scared, I was excited. We can't continue like this any longer, the people know it, the government knows it and those pulling the strings couldn't care less. I will purge the evil from these lands. I will call this land my country once again. I am not the voice of the people, I am not the hand of justice: I am the blade of the forgotten.

Two Months

I don't have to run away to move on,

Two months I've been gone.

I don't feel remorse or depressed

Because all of my feelings have been expressed.

I don't have to care or be involved,

All my problems have been resolved.

I don't need you to forgive me,

Can't you see?

You don't need my love to love yourself

And I don't need another reason to hate myself.

You won't find the truth buried in lies

And I won't listen to your cries.

You started all of this

And somehow convinced yourself it was bliss.

You can't find light in a nightmare

But I would have helped you get there.

You never even gave me a chance

And I think I knew at first glace

That two months later, I'd be gone.

But somehow I loved you all along.

I guess it's something I can't ignore

 But all that ended when I found the door.

Pseudo-Love

The first time I let those three words escape my lips I said them with tears instead of a smile. Why did I choose to love her? It's amazing how love can blind you so quickly, as soon as you admit to it you're trapped, ensnared. Say goodbye to logic and reality, you now live in a world of delusional dreams. I guess I thought those letters I wrote might change her mind or convince her but perhaps I was just manipulating her or trying to convince myself. She never loved me and no matter how deep my feelings and desires were you can't force another person.

Every time we got together we fell apart within hours. Each time I convinced her she lost faith within a day. When I wrote those letters I got further away from the truth than I was before. I guess you can only put up with so much shit even if you're in love with someone. I shouldn't have ever loved her, all it brought me was agony, and that isn't what love is.

I once wrote to her to tell her what love was, and I know what it is, it isn't her. Love is uncertain, that is true, you never know where it will take you but you should feel strongly enough to face it together. How could I ever retain my sanity and weather the storm when she jumped ship with every cloud? I wanted to run away so many times but she made me strong enough, or perhaps crazy enough to take on the whole world. I didn't care what people thought or what happened to me, all that mattered was her happiness.

Sometimes I wish I could be more selfish, I'm always the one sacrificing for others. I'm always the one pouring my heart and soul into everything just to have it trampled by others. And after it's dead and gone I'm the one whose apologetic when I should really be bitter and angry. Even now, all I want is for her to be happy and safe but that's two-thousand miles behind me now.

Someone told me the other day that it was stupid to leave because I was running away from my problems. At first it really hurt to hear that, I was beginning to think it was true but if I really think about it, I'm not running away, I'm chasing something more. I could of had the girl, I didn't want her. I got the promotion, I didn't want it. I found a school, I wasn't interested. 

No, I'm not running, I'm chasing something more, something called happiness and, as far as I can tell, it wouldn't be found there. There is no girl, no friend, no job or amount of money that would make me want to stay. And while this is the end of a chapter I can't help but feel it is the beginning of an adventure. My life starts at its end. Even if I have to carry on with this weight on my shoulders forever I know I'll become a better man because of it.

And I'll find her, I'll find it, whatever the hell it is. One day I'll fall in love with someone who wants me as much as I want them. Someone I don't have to sacrifice or settle for, or someone who makes it worth it. Someone who wants to make me smile as much as I want to make them laugh. Someone who appreciates my body and mind and enjoys my sarcasm and personality rather than just puts up with it. That person is out there for all of us, I know it!

Phantom Pains

I really wonder if I was supposed to die that day, maybe I did. Things have changed so much since that one foolish night and I can't help but wonder, if I died what is this? I don't believe in heaven or hell but I've been entertaining the idea, trying to figure out which I might be in. In some ways I'm very happy, I feel like I'm accepted but in another way I'm so unsure, insecure and worried about everything around me.

I look back in awe at how fast you can lose everything you hold dear to you. How fast you can disappear from a place and from the hearts and minds of those who occupy it. Was I loved until the end? Do they still think about me? I've been driven to tears just thinking of their faces, realizing I'll probably never seem them again, but what do they really feel? People say they won't forget you but a week later I haven't heard from anyone.

I feel like a ghost, only haunting myself. Why is it that you can be experiencing so many new things in a whole different world and still be completely invested somewhere else? My jobs might be transferable, my body and assets can relocate but all I'm left with is phantom pains and a shell of what I used to be. What do I need, what will put my soul to rest?

Looking back on the life I had I can't help but feel remorse that I ended it. My whole life was there, I had great friends, two jobs that I really liked going to, and I could have had the girl of my dreams, even if I've realized they were nightmares. I personally destroyed every relationship that I spent the last six months building. All the time I spent texting, talking, comforting, encouraging. All the hours I spent at those jobs building my reputation, the devotion and planning... I can never go back now. I can never fix it and I think for the first time in my life I feel I'm going to leave behind regrets.

Maybe it would have been better if I had died that night in the hospital bed. I guess I'm a coward, I would rather have people miss me than to miss them myself. I wonder though, would it have caused more pain or less if I hadn't woken up? Those friends would have forgotten me either way, a week later they would probably never think of me again. But me... I can never forget their faces, I don't know if I'll ever be able to let go.

The mementos and memories left behind don't help but I'm far too sentimental to let go of them. When my friend gave me her lighter, which she probably only gave to me because it was the only thing she had on her, I wanted to keep it forever. I think I only smoke that pack of empty dreams just to remember her. I disappeared just like the smoke, gone in seconds and forgotten even faster.

As I move into my new life and jobs I know that pain will draw me back but I'll recover. The bullet has to be removed before the wound can truly heal. If I kept going on the infection may have spread, perhaps amputation was the right choice. Yet I still feel those phantom pains in my heart and the only thing I can think of to ease the pain is the same poison that landed me here.

The Destruction of Disorder...

People are apathetic and can't stand to see someone excited and happy. It seems like every time I grasp onto a little bit of happiness someone or something wants to kick the inspiration right out of me. Am I wrong to be happy, to be interested in everything? Why don't they find beauty in everything? Why have they stopped indulging their curiosity?

It seems like people find it better, or perhaps easier, to feel nothing rather than to feel happiness of some kind. It comes in all different shapes and sizes, colors and textures. You can find it in that shitty retail job you work, you can find it in the blistering cold or while moping the floor. All it takes is a little personality and a sense of humor.

If you don't like who you are, change it. Use your imagination, make up a new persona or personality. It isn't a disorder to have a few different sides of you, it actually can make you quite sane. We are all constantly pushed and changed, broken down and then reconstructed. If you're the same person you were yesterday you haven't really learned anything at all.

I don't know how often I hear people talking like they've already lost. "The government can do whatever it wants, you'll never make a difference in what you do. Cruelty, hatred, murder cannot be stopped." Apathy is the cause of all of this. No one cares enough to vote, to protest or make a change. No one is willing to take up arms and uproot the corruption from within. No one will speak their mind for fear of retaliation. For there are no smart phones in prison, no Facebook or posh blogs.

Defeatism. That is the attitude adapted by the people. Defeatism and apathy. These two are a destructive combination and could very well lead to the downfall of civilization.