Subscribe by Email

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Keep Your Soul Numb

Zak




For the moment silence covers the street like a blanket. Even the neighborhood dogs seem to be sleeping. The street is empty but for me, and its emptiness makes it lonesome. Like a dry riverbed, it feels almost depressing. This isn’t how it is supposed to be. It was built for so much more. But I like that feeling. I like it because I know it’s temporary. The trick is to keep your soul numb and grind on.

I do not know why things are different tonight. Sometimes the brain latch onto something and won't let it go. Sometimes the brain is a vicious wolf that tears only at itself, but the trick is to keep your soul numb.

I stroll down the empty street, make a few turns onto other empty streets, and end up an alleyway. Homeless men and winos lying and sitting on pavement with their newspaper blankets. Some of them are asleep, other just stare at the horizon with their sad eyes.

The emotion is in there somewhere, I know it is, but it is walled in. But I understand emptiness and the need to fill it. Some people do it with booze or drugs. Some people do it with violence and some with sex. Some people do it with all of those things. Too few people get to fill it with love. There isn’t enough of that in the world to go around. The trick is to keep your soul numb if you want to survive.

More wandering and now it's almost morning.The world turns on its axis, grinding away the hours like a great stone. The dark night turns gray as morning approaches. A light touches the horizon. Tomorrow becomes today.

The morning air is warm, despite the fact that it is Autumn. I'm not sure of the exact date; each day is so like the one that came before it. Days and dates don't seem to matter. A day like any other day. A day to forget.We fall into patterns, boring and comfortable and predictable.

Sometimes I feel lost in the world of human interaction. I think after all these years of life sometimes I know what is expected of me in social situations – I have learned the correct reactions through trial and error – but it never feels natural. It feels like a performance. If I'm supposed to smile so I smile. If I'm supposed to laugh at a joke so I laugh. If I'm supposed to talk to friends about television programs so I watch television in order to have something to talk about. But I feel apart from it – separated from it by some invisible layer, stick outside even myself, in some space, watching myself interact with the world from a distance – unable to join in, even while I appear to be doing so.

I listen to people talking as they walk by on the graffiti-covered sidewalk. The sound of their voices is comforting. The sound of people remind me that even if I am set apart somehow, the rest of the world is still close by. It is strange: I don't usually like to be around people, but I like to know they are there, just floating around like lost radio waves.

Sunday, September 4, 2016

Do We Deserve Better?

Zak



Sometimes when I have time to reflect about my lack of social interaction, it surprises me in a way. It is odd to consider how little you can interact with the people who surround you day in and day out.
But then maybe everyone lives in his or her own private world, a world that overlapped with all the others. You can see one another. You can speak to one another. You can touch one another, pushing against the layers that separated your worlds. But you can never step from your own world into someone else’s. There would always be that layer through which you can not break completely. Every person has their own private world, and while they might rule it, it could be very lonely indeed.

Everyday we meet people and often we feel disappointed. It's just a misguided sense of entitlement that we believe 'The world owes us'. Sure as hell it doesn't. I don’t deserve anything. Nobody does. We’re born and we live the life we live, and if we’re lucky we have some good times along with the bad ones, but we ain't owed them. That’s the problem with people today. They think the world owes them something simply because their mothers pushed them from their frigging loins. The world owes nobody anything. Once the umbilical cord is cut, you belong to the world; the world does not belong to you. People should understand that. Sometimes it will beat the shit out of you, maybe oftentimes. Sometimes it will treat you kind, those moments could be rare though. But you belong to it, not the other way around. I’m fucking ranting, ain't I?

The upshot is, you get what you get, while you can hope life gives you a break once in a while and craps on someone else but that's all you can do. But if it doesn't, you just got to suck it up and deal with it. Because dwelling on your haplessness only makes you more miserable than you already are. 



Monday, February 8, 2016

Magma Inside a Volcano


As pool of turmoil churns like magma inside a volcano. I struggle constantly to contain this nagging sense of doom and inner rage that seem to intensify as I grow older. I thought I knew its origins, believed I had a fundamental understanding of the events that had nurtured it over the course of my life, and I’d attempted to take steps – many steps – in a sustained and determined effort to diffuse it, but still it remains. 

Most often, the rage manifests itself in the form of nightmares – vivid, violent scenes that cause me to wake up screaming and sweating. Worst of all, they cause me to fear sleep, to avoid it at both a conscious and subconscious level, and the resulting deprivation inevitably results in exhaustion, follows by restless, involuntary sleep, and even more nightmares. Occasionally, if enough pressure is brought to bear, the psychic magma spills over the sides of my inner volcano into molten lava and I lash out, sometimes verbally, sometimes physically. It is as if I have suddenly become some type of feral being, undomesticated and violent, and I focus my rage upon whatever, or whomever, have caused the internal pressure to rise to the boiling point.
Whenever it happens, whenever I allow the demons from the past to gain the upper hand, I wind turn, and wait for things to be alright. As the cliché goes, everything will be alright in the end, if it aint, it's not yet the end.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

A Dream in Which I Die Every Night

Zaka


As usual I couldn't sleep till the wee hours of morn but when I did, a dream in which I died, woke me up. Since then, I have been awake and contemplating but can't come up with any explanation. In other words, I'm clueless. It's almost 600 hours on the clock and I feel pretty lousy. I'm listening to the tick-tock of the clock and ruminating about my dream.

As my insomnia getting worse, this same recurring dream becoming a sort of nuisance. I used to forget about it within minutes of waking up and go back to sleep but now, with this insomnia, I simply don't have a choice except to thing about it. It's all started ten months before.

At night, I keep having a dream where I am on a makeshift raft without an oar, floating down the middle of a wide, raging river that is rushing me towards a deadly waterfall. I cannot get to the side of the river, and I can't go back upstream. I used to wake up just as I went over the falls. But lately, I go over the falls and sometime hit a rock downstream and drowned, other time, I wash up on the shore dead.