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| 4.5 years since i joined xanga. shit. what happened to all of us? seriously. i don't know any of you now. | | |
| i suppose i should write something here, and update all of you on who i am and what's going on in my life. i'm a college graduate; been done almost a year now. it's funny, i really don't feel like an adult or anything yet. i don't know why - was i supposed to feel different after graduating, and finishing up with school? i'm currently the lead associate in footwear at dicks sporting goods, the national chain. i've been there since september, and have been promoted once. i'm on the management fast track, as far as the store manager and distrcit manager are concerned. my department is one of the best in the company; and while it's not perfect it's pretty damn good. i like working there, and while the pay isn't great it's good enough. for awhile i was thinking about joining the state troopers, but i'm getting cold feet - yet another in a long line of potential jobs that i choose not to pursue. i'm really lame like that. i've had my own apartment for a month and a half now, sharing with my friend Ryan (Markus, taeryn, you might remember Pellaeon from OD. it's him). it's kinda odd, honestly, as he's even quieter and shier than i am. we don't talk much or do much yet; mostly just play scrabble when i don't have to work the next morning. i lead a pretty boring, pathetic life - work 40+ hours a week, sleep, eat, and do nothing the rest of the time. only time i go out with people is gaming shit monday nights; and whenever i plan on doing something else something always comes up with me or them to stop it. either my car breaks down, or she has to go to work, or i have to work, or he gets sick... what the fuck? it's like i'm not supposed to have any fun in life. of course, i've found that 99% of people suck, and that those you care the most about tend to just hurt you more. i don't consider myself a christian anymore, don't really see the point. it's been a few years since i felt at home in a church community, and i just don't see that changing. too many people there are too fucked up; and i haven't met a one who i can relate to or who understands how i see life. i'm not funny anymore. i'm not creative, not poetic, not much of anything. i am drunk, though. i'm not really depressed, more tired of failing at everything i try to do (outside of work, where i succeed regularly). i know that you're not supposed to live to work; but work (and scrabble) is the only part of my life that i truly enjoy right now. how sad is that? | | |
| Oddly enough, I wrote this a few summers ago when I was as sane as I ever have been. Go figure. - White men, white men all in white coats, they say I’m crazy.
Crazy? I’ll show them I’ll show them I’m not;
could one who has lost all use of his senses,
who has abandoned all faculties and is mentally lost,
speak to you with such clarity, with freedom of will?
Crazy? I was crazy once – I left it all in times past. Can I bring myself to share my story, of my past?
I always used to think I might, just might, be crazy,
I once thought that I could, just, you know, will
away all my problems and life would magically not
hurt anymore. Well, I tried it. I wished, and lost
myself in my wishes. Took over a year to come to my senses. I’d always noticed that I was different – I had heightened senses.
I could always see, hear and feel things that seemed to fly past
others unnoticed. Others always said I seemed to be lost,
but really I was chatting with the angels. They talked crazy.
I tried to tell my friends about them, but they’d say “They’re not
there.” Were they blind? Or did I just have the greater will? I thought about drugs, but I heard about side effects and I will
not let that happen to myself. I would not lose control of my senses:
No, never. Ever. Not me. I would not. Won’t. Can’t. Could not.
I did once, and I’ve only just managed to put it all in the past.
See, I did some things I’m not proud of, things that were downright crazy;
And if I didn’t do something to change? Well… you’d think I was lost. I don’t rightly remember how old I was when I broke down and lost
all control. I was thirteen or fourteen, I think, and I said “Never again will
I hurt her.” I left, then. I withdrew and didn’t bother. Drove me crazy.
I could still see her, lying, crying, bleeding, withdrawing from her senses.
She lived. I lied, though. I said I managed to put it all in my past.
Well, I didn’t. Not me. I would not. Won’t. Can’t. Could not. I guess that makes me different from everyone else. They heal, I do not.
What they forget, I remember, what I keep forever they count as lost.
They forget, I dwell and obsess and torment myself over my past,
as if I could change what I have done by sheer force of will.
See, I haven’t yet lost complete control over all of my senses –
I still think, still reason, still know myself, even if you think I’m crazy. Well, I’m not. And no matter what you think, I will
prove that I am not lost yet. I still command my senses,
isn’t the past in the past? I swear, IswearIswearIswear - I’m not crazy. | | |
| no one reads this, right? that makes this as safe a place as any to post it, for i need to post it as i seem to have lost any poetic skill i once had, it appears time to try a new form of expression - free thought. rather than worry about rhyme and reason i'm just going to write... and write. abroad. abroad, abroad, abroad. it's all i think about these days, obsessing over my travels and my trip. i constantly wish i was back there, closing my eyes and picturing trodheim, stockholm, rimini, luzern, edinburgh yet i can't say why. nothing i did or saw there was truly extraordinary, nothing was perfect. yet life without a care over there made sense for a time... i saw things clearer and was at complete peace with who i was. coming back, things seem no differen there than they were before i left. except now i was broken. for half of the reason i wanted to go was one last truly desperate attempt to find a god out there who cared, one who would listen and take me and make me into who he desired. obviously, i failed. standing, kneeling, crying out miles from another soul, deep in the swiss alps, i broke myself. i'd always been told that christ needed nothing less than complete and entire sacrafice of self; and that afternoon i offered him that. i tore everything away from who i was, and offered it to him. it wasn't easy - everything from pains from a decade of conflict at home, nothing short of hatred for some people to my talents - intelligence, poetry, atheletics, wit, creativity - to my goals and ambitions and deepest dreams... each and everyone of these i tore from myself, and offered them to him. finally, in what must have been hours or minutes or i don't even know i knelt, completely empty, and offered myself wholly to him. and got nothing. at all. nothing new, and nothing old. in some ways i was better off - the people i hated i no longer hated, the pains from rejection and everything at home no longer hurt. but i'd also lost far more... i no longer cared. i didn't care about my future, about what happened to me, but i also didn't care about anything or anyone else. i ceased being the Traveler and became the Drifter, both of whom were far different than Matthias and from each other. the Traveler was your average, outgoing backpacker... meet up at the hostels, have some fun, party with some new friends, leave it all the next day with no regrets. the Drifter did none of that, prefering... nothing. coming home i immediately started to slip back into my old home self; but only because it was expected of me. underneath, i still was and still am the Drifter, who doesn't feel or care about anything. the Drifter is the part of me that lost what he loved the most - Jewel - without shedding a tear. the Drifter doesn't give a damn about his future, but only about today and tomorrow and immediate needs. the Drifiter isn't creative or amusing, can't right or talk to people without retreating into the shell of a man that he is. and even as i hate the Drifter, and everything he represents, i can't stop from having Drifter control everything about me... even the hatred i feel is muted by the Drifter's apathy. some people would call Drifter depression - mom thinks that - but i just don't know. i do know that everything people tell me to try - religion, girls, staying active - has failed. trying to reach out to god caused me to lose everything in the first place, and further attempts have caused me to hate the "god loves everyone" mantra more than i knew it was possible to hate anything. girls have been fun, yeah, but shallow and i stopped playing around, for their sake as much as mine. work has helped... but i can only work 40 hours a week, and it's not enough. nothing is enough. Drifter has complete control, and i'm not sure how i can stop him or even if i can stop him. ha, fuck, maybe there is something to demon possession afterall. The amazing thing is that, despite all this, I know exactly what it would take to end it all. I say I don't, but all I need is something that I care deeply enough about to devote everything I have to it. I could be a person, a cause, anything. For some time it was my future that I cared about, so I lived for school and loved that and was happy because I succeeded. Now that I have nothing to care about, nothing to live for, I am nothing. And that has to change. | | |
| hi i'm home, now. did i even say i was gone, here? | | |
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