Resurgence

Laziness goes a long way, almost a year. I still don't know why I've started this blog, the written language seems so ancient, so dead. I suppose this is why I've come back,  when video and audio is most convenient words can be easily ignored. I've been writing off and on, mostly jokes, going over my set,  trying to be much more than I am when I hit a wall.

The girlfriend and I are now separated, judging by my two previous posts it was only a matter of time. It was best for both of us, we hated each other. She "didn't get" why I liked certain things and I didn't like how negative she was. It was a bad mix, a depressed person trying to pick up another just exacerbates the whole situation.  The the situation is done and she has moved out. Funny thing about a bad relationship, all those suppressed thoughts, the words you could never say, the emotions you ignored during that year all come rushing back as soon as you finally feel that last box of stuff go into your once love's car.  Moving her out was the most awkward part. An intense silence loomed over the day and every word out of my mouth was to assure her that everything was going to be okay.

I'm a faux optimist, I understand how enraging that could be for everyone with half a mind around me. I really do try to voice the positivity in every shit situation. Reason why I'm trying to be a comic, it seems what I am best at. To make dad laugh to stray away from the darkness,  distinguish moments of tension with a dumb joke. Extinguish very human feelings so I wouldn't feel uncomfortable. The hardest part is how to do it with yourself. That is where I hit the wall.

After she had left I went into a deep depression, first I binged ate, to fill in the loneliness, the emptiness of my apartment. I'd listen to a podcast over and over just so I wouldn't be alone, be it with headphones or through my tv I always had a voice on .Then food started losing all taste and drinking became my meals to the point I had an epiphany. Just end it.

Now this was different from before, I've always been a depressed child but this thought process was very objective. I'd be leaving enough money for cremation, any person debts and a goodbye letter. I started planning this on Tuesday and was planning to be gone by this past Sunday. I was going the pill route, painless, not much of a mess and some organs would still be usable. I was going to drift off to sigur ros on loop.  By Thursday night I've already had lost my will to live and that's when I wrote this onto a sticky note:

"I'm realizing I am nothing but a novelty in these peoples lives. I am not important, I am just an idea that should have faded away a long time ago. I came to the realization that what makes me truly happy is making others happy. But the epiphany soon after was met with, I am just a passing thought. A droplet in a sea. No one depends on me for happiness, no one cares. They'll be hurt but once I'm gone, 3 months they'll be fine. They'll just pretend I'm asleep, I'm traveling. THat's how we cope, that how I don't matter. I feel nothing, I don't care about tomorrow. I don't care about food anymore, I don't care about the impact. It's not selfish it's utter indifference. A good friend said, find someone who you can talk to, I have no one. The only glimmer of hope is that someone will text me, talk to me, ask me if I'm alright and I still haven't gotten that. I'm so very alone. A blanket of saddness has swept over me and I have no one i can turn to. I sit here staring at my phone, at facebook, at craigslist hoping, just hoping someone will speak to me. Acknowledge that I am alive and not just an idea. I wish to be a person. I wish to be alive. I wish i could love and laugh. I wish I just had someone or something I could turn to and remind me that things will be alright. I have nothing, I will die soon. By fate or by my hand I will die, this weekend."

That's when I finally broke down, alone in my dark apartment

The next day I started getting texts from friends and I hadn't heard from in months. People saying how much they miss me, friends reminding me I was cared for. I was being bombarded, mind you I hadn't spoken to anyone about any of this.  You can call it fate, the human connection, whatever. I'm just very lucky.

I still feel like just an idea, that I don't even exist as a person but I am now fighting everyday to make myself known.

Funny enough, this blog will be a little of everything, reviews, cooking, etc. Writing saved my life, it took me towards tomorrow and was my only friend when I needed it most. It's the one thing that I can take from my childhood and use it in a positive way for myself. I have to continue on to see where this takes me, where i will go, what I really want to say.

Inspiration

 So tonight I went nostalgic and started listening to bands from my youth with my lovely girlfriend. We went through the misfits, she of-course rolled her eyes as I explained why people may like them. Went through the Dropkick Murphy  she admittedly likes and finally I remembered a band that actually got me into music, Natsumen. Natsumen, admittedly, is not an easy band to get into, they're a jazz fusion rock ensemble that likes to improv through most of their songs. Tonight, while listening to a song I haven't heard from them, I got goosebumps, a reminder of why I love music. Their style just gives me hope, lets me feel when I was a kid, picking up my first guitar. The girlfriend however, didn't see it this way. She predictably called it shit and said she didn't get it. What makes her so hate-able is that she is the type of person that words things correctly for guard sake. For example, she won't put down anything you like outright but use the padded words "in my opinion" or to "to me". Technically she's right, an opinion cannot be wrong but saying "to me, this band sounds like shit" makes me want to drive my meaty fist into her face. This isn't a blog about her, the woe is me talk is dumb, there's a million livejournals with that just in in my opinion I think people, like my girlfriend should be burned then stabbed to death.

Natsumen has again helped me to become inspired, pick up my guitar and write something. It's weird how the band members will never quite know how important they are to me. Music for a while was my only friend, my only family. I remember being young, about 8 and just isolated from society. My father forbade me to go out while he was gone, so it was just me, alone in an apartment for days on end. No one would check on me, no one knew I was there. I just remember rummaging and finding his music collection and figuring out how to connect everything so I could listen. When I played that first cassette I was finally not alone anymore, I wasn't going to lose my mind.

The beginning

As I sit here on a Saturday night, at 11:37 PM, I've been listening to reggaeton for the past hour and a half. I hate raggaeton, not only is it awful but you just know that people are having a good time . Hispanic men, sitting around, maybe  singing along with the song like a soccer chant and the women, uncomfortably dancing with their prepubescent sons.  I never understood why family, mainly hispanic households, danced sexually with one another. Looking at some of the mom's, they're pretty hot. I remember when I was 13, the mere thought of anything near my dick would create this...this thing that I had to shove through a fist, wall, pillow etc. So when I see this dancing, a bunch of confused feelings are just really being formulated whilst the mom is giving her son a lap dance. Is the rod just an unspoken thing? Does the mom think she still got it? You know, by giving the son or nephew a hard on he doesn't want to explain and will suppress for most of his adult life. It's questions and over thinking that has led me here, a state of isolation.  They're all singing together now, the incest party seems nice. Their throats will be sore tomorrow morning and they'll laugh and feel good about the night before. I'm jealous.

I don't know why I started this blog, perhaps it's so I stop talking to myself out loud or perhaps is so I can pat myself on the back for writing, even though I tell everyone I'm a writer. In a time where everyone is starting blogs to pirate, be pervs or create "funny" writings to eventually cash out for a book, I'm doing none of those things. I'm keeping this blog quiet, this blog will be where my disgusting thoughts get jotted down. Pixels in an endless oceans of bits will be lost in the flood of over stimulation we are all washing away in. I'm not a writer, don't let those horrible metaphors confuse you. I'm just a desperate fellow, seeking peace from that heavy feeling in my heart. The feeling of wanting to yell but not having a voice, the feeling of wanting to laugh but no one to share it with, the feeling of wanting to die but being too cowardly.

So here I am, if you find this, you were most likely a young lady going through a confusing time. If so, welcome to womanhood. The second most likely person to stumble across this if some degenerate looking for some period pussy. If you haven't tried it, don't. It's disgusting, unless you like blood jelly.