Rising up

fuck rising up and overcoming. i’m fucking tired. working hard; a generation of untouchables, and the rest of you acting like it’s fucking normal, like some fucking aberrant god wanted it so. some are just poor and stuck, some are damaged from when they were too young to protect themselves, and struggle the rest of their lives with what that did to them. but that doesn’t automatically make them decent people. it makes them pitiable, but sometimes, if it weren’t for the abuse, they’d have been assholes just like everyone else. and it’s still in there, covered over by layers of dysfunction. and you think someone is in there, someone worthwhile, if you can just peel off the layers. and so you try. and all that trouble, all that filth you sifted through, you thought for a reason, was for nothing. her fiction of herself, this online persona which was not who she was in life, combined with the fiction i wrote for her in my own head, of what i wanted her to be, and the two things combined to create quite unrealistic expectations.

then there’s the rich. my god, i could go on about them. english is a wonderful language for scorn, and i am chock full of that. scorn and contempt. it is not what i wish. it is not what i choose over other, more lofty emotions. but they are everywhere, ruining everything. there is a way to rise above, i know, but i have not reached that level of enlightenment. and i am stuck. while all around a carnival, a parade that they march in and they don’t even see where they are, any of them, the rich, the poor, the damaged. i cannot understand their greed, the rich. i want nice things too, i can understand to a point, but they take it so far. and so much of what they want is so completely, i would think obviously, useless. then there is the willful blindness. everyone drinks deeply from that fountain. so few can see anything, and that is my loneliness.

of course, i must rise up and overcome. i must. there are only two other options. one, too horrific to think of what it would do to the only two decent people i’ve ever know, and the other, too horrific to think what it would do to me as well as them, to stay like this. and it never lets you stay, anyway. life is never static. and we must negotiate that while everything whirls all around us, as well as the maelstrom in our heads.


now listen to Goodbye Horses by Q Lazzarus, dammit. Please? it's such a fitting end to this piece. Goodbye Horses

i keep trying to talk to people through music, and so few can hear what i hear, can feel the full spectrum of what is contained there. there is such a world there, a dream world where the beauty of the pain entwines with the possibility of something more...and they give us this small space, this hope, a respite, to help us go on, to show us that there is more...if we can learn to see with new eyes, untainted by the shackles the world wants to keep you in.