Is that I am so very sad. [Sad/Empty/Meaningless/Through]
Is that I think humanity has such potential yet continuously: they are cruel hating beasts.
That I was raised with stories about “The Good Samaritan” and with phrases like Judge Not/Love They Neighbor/Vengeance is MINE saith The Lord – yet?
I am (trapped) in a land packed with people that wave around books stamped Bible, and these millions of people waving these books are hateful, judging, cruel and behave in every way opposite their ‘Messiah.’
Certainly the first 18 years of my life formed me – and though I do not speak on it in specifics much – I do know that the older I get (hourly, daily?) the less I want to live here. What does that mean? This City, State, Country or Life itself? I know that I don’t want to commit suicide, that I won’t – but that does not mean I have any love left for whatever this is I am doing. Which includes waking up, falling asleep, and all that stuff in-between. It is GONE.
People are not supposed to admit these things. Well… who cares anymore.
Well, I really like your kitten a whole lot.
Wherever you are, this will be true: “Is that I think humanity has such potential yet continuously: they are cruel hating beasts.”
I think some places, more than others, manage to lay it in soft focus, like some dreamy and terrible other that is a shame and happens but very far away.
You should find one of those places, I think. Deep country or precarious seaside!
Comment by SBJ — January 24, 2011 @ 2:53 pm
Not only must I make a comment on your intuitive grasp of my situation – something so intensely felt within my vacuum, but what few people ever can gain an understanding of:
Most people like myself are surrounded by well-intentioned good people, at least for a while, but over time the lack of cessation in the anguish and turmoil, the lack of perceived change or -worse of all, the assumption that I am not wrestling constantly with these realities/tasks to change the current ongoing reality, no matter how incremental: that assumption is unbearable, it’s a betrayal and it’s heart- breaking beyond words.
That you have steadfastly, over the years, maintained an unwavering support without any unhealthy over-involvement — or throwing up your hands and walking away/fading off when things don’t ‘magically change’ in time’s long grasp-
All of these things add up to a massive gesture and force of strength that I can and do light into with my brain.
But the simple fact that you have long shared your intelligence, personality, friendship and insight as above- without any investment in the outcome gives me two things: freedom to enjoy all the high quality input your family brings to the world w/out the pressure that you are somehow waiting for me to ‘get better and fix things’ and that if you can see what I need so clearly, then I am not down the rabbit hole: common sense prevails and I am not utterly lost.
The absolute main thing that would make my pain and illness bearable would be that the isolation I now endure actually be in an isolated geographical location. That would at least be the universe allowing me to get any satisfaction- spiritual and in wonderment of nature- from my situation.
As opposed to feeling like these hundreds of thousands of urban creatures are crushing down on me, squeezing all oxygen and in my gasping I see no stars/trees/vistas…
Yes, I grapple constantly with a way to be where my soul feels I need to stash this body I am trapped in. But the money is not there, the medical is here- those two aspects alone? Each one cuts a leg out from under me, no pun intended.
Your clarity and concise summation of what would bring the fever of the pain, the burn of my pained disappointment and huge betrayals to a clean and cool actual home, where I could look around me at long desert night or moon on water- far from the clattering noise of promises and echoing screams of waking- knowing that I have something of beauty in my life: milky way in night sky or sound of waves, crashing to beach.
Holed up sickly shivering in two rooms of an utterly false bourgeoisie mini-enclave in a dense urban Thunderdome, constantly endeavoring to fix/find/arrange/locate or treat/work …how many years is that expected to carry on? Especially within the context of not one original injury being treated by anyone truly qualified?
See- how exhausting and what great tedium one endures after but one long-within held outburst like this; now imagine years passing. It is only your healthy/kind refusal to choose simply friendship and no more, no expectations, no pelting of ideas I’ve tried 8 ways already every few years -
That other, where people seek to fix, emotionally invest in outcomes they know/grasp nothing of in depth yet are frustrated and exhausted when there is no payoff for them in their patience…
Thank you for the rich simplicity and clear true note in the air.
(OH! I can’t claim kitten-art above, a mouse hover shows that cassette is claimed and the cat- I lost half the name; just so you know. I’d never want anyone to think I created another’s work- how ghastly, yes? I certainly know quality as my eye works a page, that is my balm.)
Comment by Knifemouth — January 29, 2011 @ 2:50 pm