Monster

There is a monster within, a mean, evil dangerous beast that has been chained to the bone. Every single thread of life is constrained by chains of fear. Fear to be judged, fear to confront and stand up for what I believe, a fear to be myself and not being liked.

There are times when I feel abused, neglected, ignored...stepped all over that I wish I could let it loose and protect me. But it terrifies me, the pain and suffering it could cause, because I cannot control it. I've seen little glimpses  of what it really is.

I could rip my flesh apart and expose it... in its more animal state, raw and uncontrolled while I crumble to my knees letting it grow stronger as I give in to the rage filling my lungs fill with liquid fire and my hands become hardened like massive boulders to smash everything around me.Tunnel vision as my eyes darken to a pitch black just as my soul

My Fractal Reality

I feel lost in the repetitions of my universe and those around me, in a relatively close proximity but so far away that our minds and limited understanding of life and matter wont let us dream.

I feel lost because everything that I did, I did it for her, so it goes the cliche, and how idiotic it is to live our little insignificant instant as a function of someone else depositing our hopes and dreams all over them as if they were the proverbial Happiness Christmas Tree.

My sadness, my excitement, success and failures were carefully aligned and hung from her, and not realizing she is no longer part of my life, everything seems so worthless and pointless.

From the bottom of my dark lonely pit, I feel like crying blood and sweating anger at her... why at her?

And I wonder and wonder day and night, is my other me suffering on that other dimension where our universe gets to be a spec of dust in some exotic mega monster plant where its perfume intoxicates another me making love to her. Can I calculate the odds where over and over again in every single potential combination of cause and effects leads me to her?

An endless purgatory where no matter what choice I make I end up loving her, and in every single one f those endless possible endings, I fall to my knees heart broken wondering where I lost her.

Dante's hell sounds so appealing now.

Inspiration

I was, I am, I will be the inspiration of my day, the becoming of something beautiful ever changing and  reluctant to stay still.

I've got a broken heart, and I cant seem to take a step with out falling back on what I could've been for her, but never for me.

The sublime, but not the pursuit of anything, but just be, and become as life wishes, pausing just enough to marvel at its brilliance, and perfection; its balance and adjustments, but just being with no grand desire of becoming something if I do not know I should or shouldn't.

I want to grasp the simplicity of just being and wash away this frustration of not being able to be whatever she wanted me to be.

I wanted to be her inspiration, the perfect fit and the fallacy lies right within that premise of wanting to be something for someone and believing that happiness should follow suit.

Traveling

I was back on the road again last week, and as usual, not a big fan of taking pictures. Just the thought of planning and stop life for a second in order to capture the moment seems so fake to me, do not ask me why, it just does.

Well, this time I did take a couple, just so I can post them here and prove that I was indeed traveling.

Anyway, I wanted to share my feelings when traveling, and I'm not sure, but I would like to think I'm not the only only one who thinks or feels this way.

My first sensation when sitting at the gate, or walking up  and down the terminals, seeing the rivers and oceans of people walking, running, standing, I cannot help but wonder, almost obsess about each and every one of them, about their lives. Where are they going, where are they coming from, what does your house look like, what kind of car they drive, how is their room decorated, what do they do when no one is watching? Are they as perverted as me? I wish I could learn all that just from watching, and observing. Are they sad? happy? what was the latest news the hear before leaving home? what are the thinking? Are they thinking about me the same way I'm thinking about them?

Every time I travel, my diminished feelings of belonging are worsen; the stranger that no one ever notices, a ghost walking up and down the crowded hallways of solitude.

Last night as I was charging my phone in O'Hare I couldn't help but feeling less than a grain of sand in and endless beach, and no matter how special I wanted to make myself feel, the insignificance of our existence could not have been more obvious.

Courage

Where do we find that little push we desperately need when we hit bottom? Leave that sucky job that is going nowhere, wake up really early in the morning to workout or leave her when you know deep inside she never loved you? When you've failed time and time again to win her heart but it never was meant to be yours?

My mind is drained, my heart broken into thousands little pieces of liquid  sadness and I can't find that little extra in me to walk away.

 is plain cowardice or can it be justified as tiny threads of hope still lingering in the void of our failures?