Just to make it would be ultimate victory. Achieved through the drama of daylight sacrificed to the old gods that made the Terra. Some may bow and scrape such as I, but few have seen the other side of sanity that completes me. I am darkness, my mind is death. The blue pill would make me content, but this prescription is snow. Lithium. Mined in conflict, chalky and white. Fought over by the Taliban and the cartels alike. Charging Tesla and fueling astronauts, my planetary orbit continues to shift. Gravity defying spatial anomalies incircle the elliptical orbit that encompasses my skull.
An elemental salt submerged and suspended keeps my sanity from settling under the nearest bridge. Privilege supported; warm weather panhandling avoided. Philosopher’s beard, I pull and tug, sleeping safe with sound luxury only comparable historically. Mild comfort forged in despair due to a self-awareness yet to compare. Yet to find an equal, anonymity keeps him from me.
It’s the question that drives me. You know the question just as I did. I don’t know how this is going to end but I’m going to tell you how it’s going to begin. I’m going to show these people what it’s like to fall between the cracks. What makes us different? There is no us. Only the disenfranchised, enslaved by the lottery we understand as genetics. Death ensures that the pain will end. Pushing forward unto dawn until the great light calls upon us to answer the mystery.
Mortality ensures that I won’t find the answers, but I abstract that searching for the answers is the answer. While on this pane of reality this is all I can hope for us. We are in this struggle together you and me. I will find you, and you will save me. My own personal Jesus Christ.
If the past ten years were supposed to teach me humility, all I have learned is misery. Friends I anticipated to have the rest of my life have dropped me like a bad cold. Afraid I will somehow infect them with the drama that stirs inside of me. Drama is life, and life lives within the mind. If the mind has a life of its own how can one suspect to live within the confines of a shared reality? It is that reality that I pine to live in, but reality is the whore that dropped me. Part of me still wants to love her, but the attempt is futile.
Resistance is the Renaissance.
Split between who I am and who I want to be. Sacrificed the man I grew up dreaming to be only to become what I am. Absolutely did not choose this life, and to be honest I still don’t want it. If I could trade it away now I would. My prayer is that by the time my words are finished you would trade your life for mine. Fat and thirty, so many dreams are dead, yet I still chase a new one. That is to reach you. For me to be able to be honest about who I am. Paraphrasing my favorite fictional dwarf “I want to wear my greatest weakness as armor so that no one can hurt me with it.” For now, the negligence of others continues to wound me deeply and those wounds are my greatest enemy.
Bipolar is the word and hell is the world it lives in. What is hell but the separation from God? How do we find God on Earth but through the companionship of others? I have known the love I pine for, perhaps if I never had this death process my life now would be less painful. But as it is told “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I don’t know if I believe that now as it directly contradicts “ignorance is bliss.” I can’t afford to remain ignorant. I can’t risk the cage, the underpass, or the padded room. I can’t sit in that chair again as the doctor gives me the option...it’s these pills or electroshock treatment. “Don’t worry it has come a long way now.” Just as I’m sure they said in the 60’s and 70’s. Lobotomized and lampooned.
Shut out and shunned. How close I’ve come to the Sun is impossible to know but I have danced with the devil. He has tricked me with all his earthly power. I thought that they were angles, but to my surprise. They dragged me down to hell with them and tore out my insides.