"In Case Anyone Missed It, The Tuberculosis Outbreak In Kansas Has Now Spread To Ohio.

Rambling 1

I am really going to go crazy some day,

I am going to go fucking insane.

It feels like the whole world is against me,

when I know it is not in truth,

but I can't let go of truth nor lie and it all blends together.

What do I want? What the fuck do I even want?

Is it money? Convenience? Freedom? Ability?

Will I come to value material more than I value people?

Will I come to value society more than I value its parts?

Will I erase "myself" in search of a "successful" future?

What am I? What can I be?

Am I able to be more than the sum of my history?

More than trauma, coping, addiction, fear, anger, sadness?

Do I even want to be more? Will I lose "myself" in the process?

Am I even allowed to change?

Why Should I Care About Him

Why should I care about him? C'mere. Just look at this train wreck.

Ugly face. UUUUUGLY fucking face. Cmon. Have you seen this guy? He looks like every single kind of criminal's face averaged into a final composite. A face only a mother could love, except not even that - his mother is trying to fix it as we speak! Hah!

Fatass belly. Musculature of a rat. Those arms you see? Maybe a twentieth is muscle, the rest is fat. Can barely handle 15 pound dumbbells, what a fucking weakling.

His terrible posture. Back hunched over like he's 90 years old and about to croak, reinforcing his own negative self-image. Eyes empty like his brain, completely numb to reality.

And what about the mind? Well, what about it? He's a fucking dolt. Can't do anything well, refuses to work hard, just escapes everything.

Why, I'd almost go so far as to say that he's the product of nothing but childhood trauma and bad coping mechanisms developed in response to that trauma, except he might also be dealing with some undiagnosed autism and ADHD and those two aren't really his fault.

And look at him even now. Hiding away, refusing to deal with his problems, just writing and yelling and wallowing in despair like a fucking sewer rat, afraid of even asking his time-tested friends for support or help. Instead he just screams into the meaningless void like it's gonna do anything. Newsflash, bub, it ain't doin shit!

He's even gotten himself stuck in a circular loop! He thinks he doesn't deserve good things, he thinks he doesn't deserve to be happy, or be loved, or be human, and this sort of thinking makes him undeserving of those things, and he knows that, and he keeps on thinking it because he wants to not deserve those things! This sort of negative circular reasoning is like getting hit by a parked car; just don't!

And he talks like he's the only one with these problems, like he's the only one who'll ever understand, as he looks right into the faces of everyone who's ever had worse, and tells them that he has it bad, like the whole world has been bullying him specifically instead of him choosing to dig further into the pit.

He thinks he's martyring himself! Like his own suffering makes anyone any happier! (Well, it evidently makes his father happier, but that's besides the point.) What a joke! Come around, everybody, look! An idiot! Let's all point and laugh!

He's not even doing it correctly! All that happens when he talks is he starts fucking venting and making everyone else upset at him and feel bad. If you're really martyring yourself, why even say anything if you don't have something positive to say? Just be a good person and die quietly in the ditch. Shut up about your problems, everyone else has it way worse and doesn't need you adding to it.

Anyways, as you can clearly see, this lil fucker is completely worthless. Waste of air and oxygen. I'd tell him to just jump, except he doesn't even know where his nearest bridge is and hasn't bothered to search it up. What a fucking failure. Tell me, seriously, why should I ever care about him?

Oh. Wait.

That's a mirror.

Nothing Left

made in the blind spot of god

a husk of a man without a soul

what is being alive and being dead

it is all the same regardless

I reach for the pie in the sky

as the world turns pale grey

there is nothing left for me here

so I will seek better lands

but I am trapped, held back

by the same chains of my own making

because I thought the sky was evil

for it was not the same grey as the rest

Then I saw them, the people in the sky

So far above, coming down with the helping hand

Even though there's really not much to pull, eh?

Just the sack of flesh and the animal shoved in there

And so it doesn't want to be pulled

To leave the safety, the dullness, the monotony

Why should it? It'd probably just get worse if it changed

and it didn't deserve to be helped by those it shunned

and regardless, the grapes were probably sour anyways.

How Much of Me Is the Real Me

How much of me is the real me

and how much is what you put in there?

How much of me is what I really really want

and how much is what you've told me to want?

What part of me is the real, genuine article

and what part is the seeds you've planted?

What part of me is my blood, sweat, and tears

and what part is the loan you gave to a grave with my name on it?

Which notes in my melody come from my own mind and thought

and which notes are copied from a song I already forgot?

Which notes in my melody are beautiful, strong, soft, and cheery

and which notes are the discord you've sown?

What part of me is the part gives and seeks love?

and what part is the one that hates all it sees?

What part of me is the part that I should keep?

and what part should I leave behind?

How much of me is the real me?

and how much is your god-damned meddling?

I Fear

I fear

that I am not perfect.

I am not attractive

and I am not well.

I fear

that any effort I make

is doomed to be wasted

like the other efforts I've made.

I fear

that if I change myself

I will no longer be myself

a conformity gained, a uniqueless lost.

I fear

that if I force myself to change

I will force myself through life

and not have enjoyed any of it at all.

I fear

that if I am just "another person"

then I will have lost all chances

of recieving your love.

I fear

that if I help others

naively, kindly, and oh so optimistically

that I will only be disadvantaging myself.

And yet, I help.

I encourage, I uplift, I support.

No matter how naive I may seem

I continue to serve the good of others.

So maybe, this time

This time I can change, truly

for the better, for the best, to be a new me

To push through the fear while keeping me myself

I fear

that I will still not be deserving

of your love; of your kindness; of you

that my efforts will again be wasted

But I will try anyways.

Who is Speaking?

Who is this?

three people in one

one person as two

put on a mask and done!

Is the fair lady speaking?

She is quite fun.

Let's decide on a date

and go for a run!

Is the young boy speaking?

He is quite kind.

I hope he is not so sad.

The world is good, I'm sure he'll find.

Is the good sir speaking?

He is quite professional.

I think he will go a long way.

His intelligence is indeed exceptional.

Are all three of them speaking?

I sure hope they are.

Each one brings something different

Like three types of shining star.

The Foundations of Love

How can I get you to care about people? How can I get you to be kind?

Why do you think love happens? Why do you think people are altruistic at all?

It's not because someone told them to be, I'll tell you that much.

It's because love and kindness are what the world thrives on.

Nobody wins by being angry all the time. No man is an island.

The world is not zero-sum. Kindness shared is kindness tripled.

But I'll assume this doesn't convince you, or you would've found the path by age five.

Let's consider the people who were solitary. The people who didn't love.

Evolution filtered them all out. Evolution championed kindness.

And if that's not a good enough reason to love, then I don't know what is.

Forever That Child At Age Five

Do you ever wonder if people can really change beyond their formative years?

"Sure they can. Maybe not the whole, but a solid chunk? Yeah."

Well, I suppose that's true to some extent.

A man can live the first 20 years of his life in a constant state of movement.

Studying, working, doing chores, being what he needs to be in order to survive a harsh environment.

Then he can live the next 20 years in a carefree state of relaxation,

and live the last 50 as the hardworking man once more to provide for his family.

Or at least, that's the story of my father.

But I fear I am still going to be that same child I was, back when I was five, ten, fifteen.

I fear I am forever going to be under the shadow of that man,

that man who had two children without even realizing how fucked up his own childhood was.

I fear I will never become anything more, at my core, than that five year old child.

Sure, I suppose I'll change, superficially; maybe I'll know a bit more, fit into society a bit more, and so on.

But at heart I will still be that same, sad, scared little child,

a child who would do anything for a bit of affirmation and approval.

I fear that when I am thirty, or fifty, or eighty, or a hundred-twenty, or however the fuck long I live,

that I will still be no different from the child I was when I was five.

I fear that I am always going to be the same little boy who begs for just the slightest bit of love.

I fear that I am forever that child at age five.

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I Have Not Changed

I still carry

that fear of you

of your dissappointment and

anger.

I still fail

to see what is important

what I need to be doing and

how I can do it better.

I still wait

for salvation to deliver me

instead of moving my own

two legs to walk

I still think

that I can fix myself

even though time has shown that

I cannot get up alone.

I still hope

to never be a burden

nevermind the burden I am

to the world I take from.

I still allow

my passions to be tainted

by approval, by fear, by time

as I run myself ragged for you.

I still shudder

when I hear a ping

wondering whether it is praise

or deep, vitriolic scorn

I still fear

that the beautiful, wonderful, spectacular people around me

will retract their blessings

and leave me godless.

I still fear that I am not worth a second of your time.