My Soft Tissue

Hello World,

I am trying to understand how this self-criticism won't run me into the ground.

Tick Tick


the sound of a drumroll
in slow motion can seem different

An affect that is presumed, or assumed,               
I've never really known the difference between the two.

Argue over who anyway,

I'll choose the truth over you any day.

Only to benefit,
is that what this is all about?

Of course not,
this world is the other side of the rabbit hole,
trust me, it's all here.

Dancing to their music has always been so difficult for me.


Arrogance and pride.


I want to dance to my own rhythm.
I love that which I admire.

A unionship that I saw in my dreams.

To manifest ones destiny.
One for all and all for who?

Pain helps me feel a part of this world.
So I dive in again and again.

I always come up with a smile, 
Or I try as much as possible.
This is my vanity, I know.

I know I know I know...

Madness

     It is a very strange day. What makes it strange opposed to not? When one feels consumed by this eerie feeling, do we deny our inability to rationalise such emotion. Are we able to understand what we feel as we are experiencing it? Everything unfolds exponentially, whatever we choose to hold on to will carry us far away from this nostalgic starting point. Flying, as the colours flicker even brighter with our eyes closed. Defeated by the world, I have created a shell for you to reside in. It will caress your soul, just not the way that you have wished. After all, what is life without trauma? You are lying to yourself. Have you never wished to hit someone with the truth, to give them a reality check? Events take place, with or without our control but when the ball rolls in our favour, we feel more in control, yeah?
   

     Close your eyes, take a deep breath. Count to ten. What is the first thought that violently demands your attention? Are you like me? Does your vanity drive you to the edge of your sanity, from which you can view all of the madness that awaits you. Do you refuse, like myself, to give in? I am weak, I admit this. What is your reason? What is your excuse? A moment, a glance, a glimpse, and perhaps a dance. A movement inspired by sound, alas a way to seek salvation. But this rhythm is not from God. The almighty has expressed disapproval. And you are just the messenger. How strong and majestic you stand holding the word of God in your hand. You do not see yourself, the way you look down on us. All you see is pathetic me, in dire need of your help.


     A moment as fluid as the dream that we cannot remember. How to stay true to a sentiment that used to hold it all together. The consistency of inconsistency. The pleasures of irony. How do you swim? Do you just float with your toes breaking the surface, every once in a while just to feel the air? Placing a warm smile on my face, the connection I need to take place, just so I can feel okay. It is quite a battle, holding steady all the emotion that begs to flow aimlessly. Always feeling the urge to let go, and without knowing why or why not, I never do. Perhaps just for a love to be true.



     Disparity, but how? When a light of joy resonates and creates an endless supply of comfort and love. But knowing myself, I say, proximity is the only drug. I choose that which is close. Beyond what I know, is not beneficial for my soul. I have taken your hand, you shutter as if winter's gust, was just another foolish lust. Yet you still hold on to my hand, how pathetic you are. So why can't I stop moving my feet to the melody you play. How have you given this dark room, painted with my red, such a sweet scent? The secret is to indulge in what is meant to be discreet. Justifying carnage with appetite, I create a delicacy and I watch you eat.


     I have reached a milestone simply by existing. Spinning in a giant circle, having listened to the commands of so many different voices. I have done nothing and I refuse to participate. I am neither a leader nor a follower. We all suffer, some more willingly than others, making you the fool. I draw the line, in the sand, on my head, in the sky, across two stars. I forget during the day and I start over every night. I promise myself that I will not be the same. I wish so desperately that this time I will change. But I don't and I can't. I push all the sand and it finds a way to trickle back down, creating a place for me to sit. So I have a seat on all my wasted effort and I can't help myself from laughing.


     To say existence is pointless, to me, has grown so redundant. I can create a meaning to my text. Take my words out of context and try to make sense of what you choose to hold me accountable for. I have a code that I live by. It does not fluctuate based off the variables in the room, though it could. I do not seek peace, I believe war is a necessity. Greed is the culprit that declared war and has already struck first.



    But I just want to hold your hand. Hold it close to your chest and feel the little heart beat, thumping into our silence. How your eyes were once as full as the moon.

Where are you now
my love?

























30 feels good.

Hello Darkness My Old Friend...

     I find myself in this old headspace. The place that I dread. I have moved on, physically and emotionally. I even refuse to look back, as if the past never happened. That's the right attitude, right? I'm in a better place, I'm in a better place. But what now. I feel everything I'm building is going towards nothing, but even if I were to build something that meant something great, what of it? Maybe I'm just letting the world make me feel down about everything. I, myself, can't even make sense of this feeling. What is accomplished by writing nonsense, gibberish.
   

     I wish I knew where to go from here. I know where it all stems from. Childhood trauma. Childhood trauma shapes our lives, so it seems. From little as having mean parents that constantly break us down, or being sexually molested by a family member, being raped, witnessing the realities of war, growing up impoverished, growing up as an orphan, being a victim of sex trafficking blah blah blah. There are just so many ways that this world can fuck us up, I mean fuck us up real good. Here I am despising the way you smile, the way you walk, without a fucking care in the world.

   
     Perhaps I write this angry, unable to locate the source of anger. If I can make a general guess, I would say its sexual frustration. What base creatures we all are. I wonder, as I stare at all members of my family, how they can just -- be. I envy it, I truely do. Watching all the married people worry about their kids, while the wives are multitasking working full time jobs and parenting, while the fathers make their jokes around the table, happy to be able to put their troubles aside for a second. As if the only reason we fill our plates up is to have something to keep us distracted.

     The people that aren't married are too busy wanting to hang out with their friends and just like that we are leaving our early twenties. Once we leave those friends, there's nothing really to go back too. I have left vacant the sides of many dear friends with the justification of self-progress. Now that I have made strides, my only wish is to be back with those that I've connected with the most because one thing I know is that the older we get, the less likely we are to create new connections. Especially for myself, I feel so closed off to people and I'm never impressed by anyone I meet.

     I am sick and tired of being alone but I know that being with 'someone' doesn't cure this feeling of disparity. I tell myself that I have to continue working on myself but this force of dark reasoning keeps pressing on me asking, "for what, for what?" How do I answer that? How does anyone answer that? There are nearly 8 billion people on this planet and we are all supposed to believe our lives have great meaning? Give me a break. How many lives have existed and suffered and died? Yes, these are depressing thoughts, but what good are they to me if I internalise them? I want to be a positive force in this dark universe but I want the world to know that it is fucking hard man. It is hard.

     I want to bring joy to myself and those around me but people with no moral compass just come around for a brief moment and just do a quick dance and that can be enough to just bring me right back down to place that I hate. This place in my mind where I just don't see the point of anything. I try my hardest to motivate myself in that fog of meaninglessness, "if it all really means nothing then what is holding me back from conquering my dreams?" How uplifting right? How come I don't feel it now? Ups and downs. I need balance, not ups and downs.

     I am making progress towards my goals in life. I have set these goals for myself because that is what truely represents me, at least I hope it does. Then there is this repetitive thought, it's all a distraction. A distraction from what?

     There are moments where I truely understand the value of leading a healthy lifestyle, now more than ever. Exercising, having proper diet, not drinking and smoking blah blah. The people that love me are comforted knowing that these habits do not occupy my life anymore, which is great, and I myself see the amount of focus that I have gained which I am then able to apply to further fuel my ambition. Ambition, ambition.

     Then I come across a person that is more ambitious than me, at least from where I am standing. Their minds are on constant overdrive, thinking about the next step as they're executing their current step, as if these people are unable to ever experience a single moment of lethargy. Is that what it takes to be truely successful? Sometimes I get myself to believe that, 'yes, that is what it takes to become successful'. If that is the case, then perhaps success is not meant for me, at least not in that form. I want to create my own portrayal of success, one that speaks to the billions of lives that live in a similar fashion.

     All the broken people feel special because they believe that their traumatic experiences make them unique in a way that no one can relate with. I assume this because that is how I feel, which leads me to assume that that is how all broken people feel. The sad reality is that we are not special at all, we're just broken. The cruel win, and the broken wallow. We all want to be heartless and cruel but we cannot because we are weak so we hide behind the falsehood of morality and goodness. That is me challenging you. Smile.

     It is a common belief that in order to make true progress, one has to be able to identify the reality of their current situation, only then can we move forward. If we accept the present for something that it isn't, then any progress that is made is a delusion created to further take us away from accepting the true reality that we live in. But how are we to differentiate between how you see the world and how I see the world? Who is to say that your vision of reality is more concrete making my perception of reality just a flimsy house of cards. Is this the part where I ask you to not turn on the fan?

     I sit here with my privilege, the ability to reflect on my depression in a safe ventilated room located inside of a decent-sized modern looking house. Whose got it better and whose got it worse? Where do we look? Do I look down at the less fortunate in order to feel better about myself. The less fortunate smile, raising their hands to the sky thanking god, embracing the unknown direction of their fate. Or do I look up, and despise those that I perceive to have so much, so much of the things that I wish I had. I despise them because they do not deserve their luxury because I am the one that deserves such lavish delicacies. Jealousy jealousy..

     Just like that, life will end, the hereafter will then have its turn and so begins the next saga. I want to look forward to tomorrow, I want to be excited for what's ahead. That feeling I used to get, the night before the first day of school, that is what I want, that exhilarating uncontrollable eagerness. Truth is, it is now up to us to create that environment, every single aspect of that dream world. When we were kids, the world was new and everyday had the potential to offer something different. We entered every scene with curiosity because possibilities felt endless. Then we spend the next, I don't know how many years, chasing that high until our fires extinguished, and that is the moment when society expects us to say, "Well, I guess it's time to settle down now."

     But how many of us don't want to settle? After we have exhausted the flame of our own passion, we want to regain everything that we just gave away so recklessly. The world was our stage, every step was something new, and it turns out that we were walking in one big circle. Now these steps have become all too familiar, the world has lost its mystery. The stage that was given to us is no more because, just like the memories it gave us, it's all collecting dust.

     There are two ways to create new memories. One, drugs and alcohol. Two, embracing our vision and relying on hard work. We all have visions of what we want and that is a journey on its own. How we conquer and stand by our visions will be the first part of embracing our new journey. Hard work, the two easiest words said but the deciding factor for people like us who have nothing. Through embracing our vision and being committed to hard work, it becomes possible to build an environment that allows the opportunity for the creation of a world where fresh ideas and new experiences flourish. Sounds like a magical place filled with rainbows, pass me the drugs and alcohol. Shortcut.

     I don't know, I struggle to maintain. I have to give myself these long pep talks to get myself out of these funks that I experience. I just hope this resonates with at least one person out there who perhaps, in their own way, is experiencing their own struggle, wondering how to maintain their 'ordinary' life. I hope this helps because writing this helped me.


Whoever you are,
I love you?
     

Chaos

What you are looking for does not exist. Go ahead and face it for a bit. Let the thought soak in. What you are looking for, does not exist. I've sent out personal invitations to all of my favourite guests. 7:30 P.M. sharp, everyone dressed up! Welcome to my pity party. Do you like the curtin's hanging in my room?


Looking for time?
Time,
does not exist.
So we fight and resist,
place meaning to such.
Feeling it touch our memories.

Shade them with blue.
If the right isn't either,
and the false isn't true?
Then tell me please,
what should I do?

A dead glance with no stare.
Who actually does
and who actually dares?

What was it because?
And nobody cares.
Nobody loves so nobody shares.
But I refuse.

You have lost life, I can see it in your eyes.
Defeated, exhausted, your fire has extinguished!
You embrace the outcome of it all.
I was the one wrong.
Simple isn't easy.
You must focus,
if you want to continue to stay strong.

Strong for what strong for who?
I don't see anybody running?
See that's the problem
about thinking you're a special something.
Everything is always grande!
The moment of a lifetime.
The moment that we all want to remember.
Is this actually it? Is it actually you?

     I wish to connect even though I already have. I say this whole heartedly. It's not drifting through life anymore when purpose is felt. Purpose or distraction, is there a difference? I mean, look at your life compared to the one idealised. Imagine if it was you that was idealised. How would it then be to live in your shoes? How we thirst for such knowledge, hence t.v. shows are created. The result of your vanity feeds and maintains a million delusions. Does the diluted life hold as much meaning as the one driven by vanity? The flashiness of one, and the wishfulness of the other. Such a strong contrast, how it both needs each other so very badly. Where do I fit in? Where do you stand? Do you ever find yourself wishing to be sitting next to me? Relaxed as my mind races. How I wish to grow comfort with your many different faces. You smile, I breathe. I hold it for you, exhale whenever. I am consumed by your purple.

     I wish to connect. I want to deny. Can I resist? How easy is it to part ways from everyday routine? I wish to never look back. My thoughts visit frequent enough. Her, and her too. It's not just you. Every single thought that has ever touched my soul. A soul with such plain colours, why do I feel that it should paint something more? I know that this is all it is, yet I can change it. So can you! Let every dream come true! So I pick us, I can pick you! A one sided battle. Love and belonging! Is that all that we want? I chase my dreams, because if I don't then death is all that is left. Death will have its day and selfish that day will be. So why are we so conformed in the midst of such chaos. It makes no sense.

     I wish to connect, before I am kissed by death. I see a future with you. Yet the truth is that it is just a distraction from the future that I wish to build for myself. Every step I take for myself is taken with such heaviness. Shortness of breath! As if creating my own destiny is met by a resisting force that carries such strong malice. I feel myself fighting this dark energy whenever I take a step for myself. I feel stupid, worthless, I feel it all become so pointless. I believe it all is pointless, but I really feel myself drowning in such waters whenever I take initiative. I push through every word now, just as I am writing. You read this wondering the meaning of my sentence? I write this fighting for my existence. I want to create meaning for myself but the core of my soul knows that it does not exist. We are terrified that we do not matter.

    But I want to feel terrified, just to let fear itself know that this is just a moment that passes. Once it grips us it is forced to let go. Nothing can hold you forever, even the better days that have come and are sure to arrive again soon! So let it go when it arrives. Let it wash right through you. I'm done holding on. I want to let all the nonsense flow, to me there is no difference between profound and stupid. Doesn't one need to exist so the other one can be recognised? Why is it that my arrogance allows me to believe in my own intelligence and I only find comfort among those that I find stupid? Is it pity? Truth be told, it is envy.

     Envy to those that I feel better than. They live while I loath. They laugh while I wonder. They're wrapped up in simplicity while I ponder purpose. They fall in love while I'm still twisted and tangled. I spawned into existence fighting for a normal day. My head is not normal yet my life ended up being so ordinary. I continue to wish for that which I do not deserve. I watch you indulge, how you exercise your entitlement with such ease. It's the strength I wish I had. Maybe then I could've made her mine. If you are waiting for a coherent thought, you have made it far enough to know that I write this sober, for once. Again I raise the thought of why we have chosen a life filled with conformity in the midst of all this chaos. Why?

     Chaos is all this is. This existence that requires stop signs and contracts and forced public education filled with ADHD diagnoses with cramped hospitals filled with privileged people that can afford to be reckless because someone else is paying the bill while millions of people are sitting watching trillions of hours of t.v. every year. and here we are while war is waged while the wages stay low and the cost of living rises and vanity makes me anti-social and you popular and here I am wishing I was you and who knows what you wish for. Musicians making music that is played in a club that has a minimum two thousand dollar bottle service but we can't get in because one of the friends got caught having cocaine on them. Through all of this, we now need to raise awareness to that which everyone is already aware of. Aware of what? Injustice and poverty? While I'm worried about how I'm going to be spending two grand at a club while millions of people are living in slums and take note that I worked ten weeks straight to save this two grand. The one suffering is the most aware being the victim. The oppressor is aware because they are the cause. Who is left? Me and you? Are you trying to tell me that you have no idea rape, murder and theft exist? Please.

     I used to be crippled by the weight of the world, carrying its problems proudly on my shoulders believing awareness to be the solution. Except for it's not. We all know what the fuck is happening. Awareness paralyses everyone. Get the fuck out of my way so I can eat.  Chaos.


And now all hell breaks loose.
As if hell has never broken loose before.
Don't be so naive.
You're not so special.
You are so very ordinary.

You are the solution
I am the solution
Nothing else


Chaos