I Can't Explain A Single Thing

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You have to take stock in your life.

How many of you out there are truly happy? I know of a few of you. You guys are overjoyed with life, without a care in the world.  It's good to be that way. It's good to get up in the morning feeling good and cheerful and dance out of bed and into the bathroom. After cleaning up and eating a balanced breakfast you tip toe outside your home, pirouetting and playing with cartoon birds flying around your head, and field animals peeking with smiles from behind trees.



You slip to a well paying job, enjoying your work or hobby. You make enough money to have a very active and fruitful social life and everything is all good for you. You love this life and would hate to see it go. I understand. I see you. I know you. I feel good for you. Just one thing though. I couldn't live that way. Nope. I  couldn't. I realize that now. I have to have an uphill battle to continue on with life. Once things leveled off and became cheery, I think I'd start fucking it all up.



I'm like a soldier out in a brutal war for too long. I have the Thousand Yard Stare of life. I'm battle rattled and shell shocked. All I want to do now is get up in the mornings and kill the enemy. Just roll over from sleep, fighting. I have so many issues that need to be overcome in my life that I really don't see an end in fucking sight. I mean, I used to sleep on the streets. I used to live outdoors and in the face of all of New York I went about my daily routine. This life still frightens me. I think how close I am to the poverty line with no real cure ahead for me, just one simple mistake could send me sliding back down into the morass of the homeless, wandering around in the streets for shelter and a place to sleep when the sun goes down.



This is a very disturbing thought, when all of the effort that I have put forth in my life is still on a hair string from collapse. That's why I'm always ready, and will always be ready for war. The battle will not be fought in someone else's back yard, but rather in mine. Alas, inside my very home. I couldn't live a problem free life, and do you know why? Because I would be eternally fearful that the other shoe will fall.



I want to live my life filled with obstacles, giving me a clear reading of who and what I am and that I am ALIVE! I am still living even though everything seems to want me to actually feel a sense of despair and take my own life. Shit. That's what this kind of pain is supposed to elicit, suicide. But I don't have those thoughts right now, especially on the Wellbutrin. I feel like I want to fight, not give up, and I think the reason why this is the case is that I still have hope.



Hope, which springs eternal. There is always hope of better days, of sunnier skies, of more food, of more drink, of more women, of more song. I have to laugh at myself. There is hope that my life CANNOT stay the same. For better or for worse, this bitch will change and change soon. I feel it. I feel that everything is coming to a head, and I have to struggle to get a handle on the change, because if it is too drastic, this may cause turmoil for me.



No, I can't live among sugar plum houses and candy cane dreams. I can't be in a bubblegum world of teenage girls with pigtails and lollipops. I can't survive cute talking animals, and sage wizards promising a bright and glowing future. There are no bright yellow sunrises on my horizon. It's the dim darkness of smoke and flames and heat and whores and illicit sex and murder. It's a world of mayhem and madness that strikes with whirlwind efficiency and I am a part of it. I am a creature that has been formed, made and born from it. I am that THING that everyone loathes, that THING that doesn't know when to stop. That THING that will not die, no matter how much we pray to the higher powers to end its life.



I will not cease to fight, and if devoid of a battle, I'll go out and find one suitable. I awoke last night thinking I slept the entire day. I woke up in pain, my muscles achy and stiff. I woke up confused and angry and upon sitting up I wanted to die. But through the agony and the suffering, the stress of coming into the world made me fight. Even to awaken from a slumber that I don't remember falling into. Even from a sleep where there were no dreams. Even from the blackness of what felt like death, I opened my eyes and drew to the muddy surface of this reality.



And I feel fine. You can have your sunny days, and your rosy outlooks. I'll deal with my world the best that I can.

I have a lust for life.

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