Then she said, I found God

Once again I find that my view of this world is shaken to the core as news of the death of an old friend reaches my ears. Another sacrifice to the human condition, by his own hand, of his own will. This was my friend of fifteen years, who helped me when I could not help myself, and he will be greatly missed.

Shane took his own life after years battling an addiction to pills. I can only assume that they finally got him in such a bad place that he could no longer handle the up’s and down’s of life itself. He used to be the strong one. The one who told us he would beat the fuck out of me if he ever found out I was thinking of such things. Now he is gone.

We’ve lost to many already to their own hand, and I never thought he would be one of them. When I was home a few months ago I had the opportunity to see him for a few hours. He was eating pills like tic-tacs and was slurring so bad it was hard to understand what he was saying. Still he was my friend, and still his loss will always be felt.

There are so many good memories. So many stupid things he and I got into, and so many things of which I am proud of that we accomplished. He was my brother, more so than my own flesh and blood.

Shane, you fucking fool. I know you were hurting but god damn it man, there was another way. I could have helped. You should have let me when I offered. In spite of that, I understand more than you will ever know. Actually, I know you well enough to say that you are fully aware that of all the people you know, I would be the one to get it.

You didn’t want to be a burden to anyone anymore.

Had I not left Detroit, you and I would still be on the same path, and it very well might have been my funeral. You supported my efforts to make something more out of the life I was given and for that I will always be thankful. I wish things hadn’t come to this. I wish you were still here with us. I wish we could have figured out a way to make you strong again.

But I understand, my Brother. I understand and I am not angry with you.

You were one of the best friends I ever had. You gave everything and asked for so very little. You fed me when I was hungry. You gave me a place to sleep when I had none. You carried me when I was to fucked up to walk. You kept me safe so that I could become the man I am today.

There are no true goodbyes in this world, only ‘see you later’. Keep a blanket on the back of the couch and when my time comes, I’ll pass out after a long night of gaming after filling my pockets with candy bars at the local party store. Just try not to run out of gas next time would ya. That shit sucked.

The blank page is a dangerous thing. It lingers at the forethought of every writer who has ever penned a word to page in the hopes that somebody will read it some day. Like those writers of past and present, I too find myself gazing upon this blank space and wondering what to place up in.

Hence these words are created.

My head aches, my skin crawls and I am tired. Tis a sad thing to think that we have only been at sea for a few weeks and already I am itching to be on shore again. The allure that it once had, the sea, just can not carry my mind in the direction which I believe it should. More so, I find the days tedious and boring, leading more and more to a situation where I am far less focused upon my actual job and more upon attempting to escape the monotonous nature of day to day (or should I say night to night) operation.

This vast ocean creates a situation where man either spends too much time chasing an elusive dream of happiness, or haunted by the ghosts of memory. I am the latter, and in such, memory both pleasant and obscene roll through the confines of my mind, leaving me drained and ill equipped to deal with the ever-present stupidity around me.

I am exhausted; my mind aches; my body screams and my tongue is tied. I look to the sea and dream of slipping beneath its waters and the peace that would follow. This of course, is not an option, but the thought is there none the less. Tis not a scary thought, for after all these years I have grown quite use to its whisper within my mind, however, if this thought were to reach the wrong ears there would be unwanted drama.

I move in cycles. From light to dark and back again; it is my life and my condition. It is who I am and I accept that. I dream of a day when I no longer have to go through this ride alone, but recognize the fact that it is difficult for any person to get close to me because of my dysfunctions. Tis easy to say that any person can find love but what is more majestic is for that person to find understanding. Without both, somebody like me will never walk with another and be happy with the choice.

There was a time when I haunted the clubs, drawing them like moths to a flame. I cared not for the future, but for only a momentary escape from the confines of my own flesh … and into theirs. Now, as I have aged, I see that such things are only a distraction from my true wants and in such I find that I am far more alone than I have been in a long time. This does not change the fact that I enjoy living my own life, and doing the things I want to do; how I want to do them. However, it also does not mean that I do not want to walk with another. When it comes down to it, I won’t sacrifice who I am today for my future wants.

This adventure into the military has been an interesting experience, albit one I can’t wait to be concluded. I dream of slipping back into the shadows of creation, a child of darkness, and live out my days in the shadows. Although life was often more than I could take, I feel I was more myself all those years than what I see today when I gaze upon my image in a mirror.

I am what I have constructed. I am, but I am willingly tossing it away to become what I use to be.

I guess you could say that this experiment has failed.

As the days go on, I find myself slipping further and further into myself. Although I show the world a different face, the scream building within obtains a little more of my psyche with each passing moment. I can but wonder at the fact that I may be like this until the end of days, when this body finally gives up this addiction to oxygen and begins a new journey as mulch. I still have dreams, and it seems, more and more, that they are all that is keeping me going though my meager existence.

In the end, I fear that my lethargy will conquer even the few hopes I have left, leaving nothing of my presence here except a leaf upon a corpse-tree. I will forever be statistic in the ever growing death-toll that is the world at large.

I was here, I consumed, I died.

This is not the dream I see when I close my eyes. Then again, I am not the man I see when I look upon the man accomplishing those momentous endeavors.

I am the pendulum.

Moods swinging back and forth from hope to despair in rhythm to the unending beating of my heart. Dreams & darkness; light and oblivion. To say that I am truly a Gemini would, to some extent, elaborate upon the condition with which I suffer.

I am alive, yet I am dead.

I gaze upon the world through a frosted over windowpane and I wonder what it would be like to participate in it, all the while hiding in the comfort of the cave which I have claimed as my own. To be so free as to run and play again; to be so free to let myself go. To be so free to let myself fall again; to be so free … to be so free.

…yet I am anything but.

My mind is my prison and I can not escape.

I had a dream of you today
Though I know not what the reason
A smile a word black nail obsession
Lingering when I awoke
I had a dream of you today
Though I know not what the reason
Your face touch not my daily thoughts
Has not for many season
I had a dream of you today
Though fading now with time
Emotion smothered day to day
Lost for many reasons
I had a dream of you today
Still haunts me when awake
For when your presence graces mine
The scars begin to itch
I had a dream of you today
Though I know not what the reason
But a dream of you is better than
The silence of the season.