Solitude

I feel my mind racing from thought to thought, speeding faster than light taking me from our discussion of last week to our huge fight 10 years ago.
Going over and over what I said and what you didn't understand, what I couldn't see, and what we didn't appreciate enough to realize we were never alone.

What if?
    - I had said it differently?
    - I had done this or that?
    - I hadn't done this or that?
    - I was not me?

The blame, and guilt, the fears and everything staring right at me like vicious monsters staling my weaknesses.

I feel it now, its fingers wrapped around my soul.. squeezing it tighter as  I feel it bleed through my eyes. I am scared of being alone.

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?

My temp corner

I would say, given the fact that I do not like myself one bit, that I'm the least interesting man in the world, and you would think that I'm looking, reaching if you will for someone to tell me... "no, you are special", but I am not. I couldn't take a compliment from my FB "friends" or any other attention seeking whore.

I didn't shower today, and after working the whole morning, I went and watched TV for a little while, waited for the wife to cook, then when the afternoon was setting down, I worked on my backyard... the real mexican huh? I love working on my yard, but I hate picking up dog poop the same as I hate cleaning puke, and why not, wiping my ass.

Anyway, I also spent a good part of my evening cleaning up my temp corner.

So now I'm sitting at one of those chairs, drinking my pinot noir, eating cheese, and after a couple of chapters from the first and last freedom, I was drunk enough to pull out my laptop and write a couple of lines.

I am married, I've never had an affair, I've got 2 dogs, a job, 3 kids, 2 cars, a laptop, a bike, and after a whole day of nothingness I wash away my thoughts in a sea of depressing thoughts and irrelevant data that comes out of my tv or computer, so yes, I am as vanilla as they come, and for one or two reasons, that bothers the shit out of me.

I want to be a Jim Morrison, and Albert Einstein, a God damn Frank Sinatra, fuck, I wish I was my dog Calvin the careless little yorkie who sits on the sun the whole day waiting for someone to open the backyard door to come running inside and pee everywhere. I wish I could pee everywhere!

Back to my initial comment... I am the least interesting man in the world, and I drink 2 X for Christ's sake!

Why do we crave to be spacial? we chase that spacial place in someone else's mind with complete disregard of what we are and want giving ourselves away that not even the whore at the corner would only to find disappointment and misery, but isn't that what we crave? drama and misery? it not that the ultimate sacrifice?
To live and die for someone else other than ourselves?