and then there was this...Mature


We fled a city of light, warmth and plenty, for a town of gloom, cold-hearted charm, remorseless depression and a starbucks at the corner.

I was the lone defender, the stark guardian, the great facilitator.
The gateway and balance between order and chaos, control and disregard, peace and calamity, serenity and a cluster fuck.
The right and the wrong.

My father succumbed to the gloom, depression and then was slain by suicide.
The guiding hand of self resignation, a coming to terms of the acknowledgement of self defeat.
Let's have a round of applause for the guy.

I can't say that I miss him, someone I never really knew.

When I was 5, I remember hearing him beat my mother, maybe throwing her across the room.
And all I could do was listen with my ear pressed to the cold door in the darkness of my room, sitting on a carpet floor, not truly understanding the gravity of what
was occurring down the hall and then fear...

It was time for school.
And that meant nifty, new backpacks, school supplies, warm, delightful smells of breakfast in the cafeteria, glossy finished hallways lined with classrooms, shiny,
sparkly pencils, 3 for a quarter, show and tell, cheerful or grim faces of new teachers, new friends and old enemies.

It meant being awash in overbearing, heart sinking feelings of uncertainty, confusion and doe-eyed innocence...
And the beatings by bullys for lunch money or toys, petty thievery from lockers left unattended, pretty faced girls with huge smiles, the passing of time 'til the bell
More half asleep but wide-eyed absorption of so much experience and the taking in of it all.

And now this...
Oh, what should we call it...?

When I was ten, I did it all again.
And again at 20.
Does this shit ever end..?

I get the groceries from down the street.
She likes eggs and spinach and how I saute it in butter, garlic powder and focused attention.
She likes that too, although I've never really been good at giving it.

(We traded our time for the money. For some of us our soul...)

Why do we do this to each other?
Expect one another to be someone we're not..?
To do things, that we despise doing.
To go places, meet people, put on a show of caring callousness, conscious self-awareness among the artificial sense of chipper, mis-aligned, bullshit self-innuendo.

I used to stay in my room and play nintendo.
It was a simple life which kept me out of trouble and away from the stupidity outside my parent's house.
I never should have left...

I was a sleepwalker, yet to be awakened.

An automaton on auto-pilot.
A wandering lost dog.
A shell without intent.
An inhibited and cryogenically frozen mind on a silicon chip.
And I think I had friends.

Those days are now gone.
Now it's just me.
Now it's just me and it's you.
Together, yet completely apart.
A miles wide chasm which has grown from the ever growing divide, which once was a mere crack.
A cunt hair of a splinter in the mind's eye.

I remember when I found out that santa claus was bullshit.
The easter bunny too.
All of them.
The tooth fairy, santa claus, easter bunny, bugs bunny and my parents.
All so full of shit.

At least bugs bunny was funny, back in the 60s or whenever.
Nice to catch his old reruns.

Why are you reading this?
Why am I writing this?
Who fucking cares, that I think what I think..?
Would it really change anything, if we didn't do everything?

The closing of doors and unlocking of the souls.

This will all churn up and blow over by dinner time, but for someone else.
And we'll all rest in the charming serenity of the self patting on the back.                           That "Hey, fuck it, I tried..."

That's what our tombstones should say.
"Fuck it, I tried..." or "Fuck it, I didn't try..." or "I didn't care..."
OR... for completion sake...

"Fuck it, I really tried, it didn't work, I have come to terms with that and NOW, I really don't care..."

Yes, I think I really like that one.
I think I'll add that to my will.
And now I am complete... ...

The End

3 comments about this story Feed