Dust to Dust

4:26 AM 6/24/2019

I'm sure that I could disappear from social media without even a blip. I'm also too afraid to prove myself right.

Lives would go on without me, as they have.

The minuscule void that would be present, if at all, would be filled pretty much instantly.

My impact, much like a mote of dust.

4:51 AM 7/1/2019

It's been five days. No messages. No checkups. No emails.

Yup.

4:38 AM 7/3/2019

To be fair, it's been quite some time since I've sent a message to anyone to check up on them. I suppose you reap what you sow.

5:51 AM 7/4/2019

Perhaps, this is what I deserve. For all the nonsense in the past, for all the times I have failed to recognize and acknowledge, for all the failures without apology.

I am fully aware that this is an echo chamber. I am only hearing what I am speaking. It is being amplified and redirected back to me. There is no other voice than mine.

There is nothing new with this.

It is up to me to change the voice and message. It has always been up to me.

5:40 AM 7/7/2019

Philosophy tells me I'm full of light. Science tells me I'm made of star stuff.

I constantly feel the weight of shadow.

Others have walked the path I'm on in a more successful manner. I do not blaze new trails. I pick up what has been left behind and try to rework it into something that is beholden to me.

I try to show it as something that is neat or keen.

It's just like 'XYZ.' Oh, that's just a poor man's attempt at 'XYZ.' This is just 'XYZ' in a coat of paint.

Frankly, I don't care if it's just like something else. I don't care if you think I'm just following the steps of someone else. I'm not riding on their cape.

The more you say these things, the more thoughts of insecurity worm their way into the core of someone. The more the imposter rises from within. The more the shade starts to speak instead of the light.

I can't help but wonder if this hasn't been the problem all along.

Something New

Honestly, I don't know why I keep up the appearance of calling myself a 'writer.'

It's clear that I don't have the wherewithal to break out. I have been dwindling down to the point where daily tweets to writing prompts are difficult to maintain. My friendships, such as they are, are also slim.

I'm tired and not motivated.

Tired of not having the right attitude. Well, change it, they're going to say. It's a cyclic pattern. Work the day job, come home, feed myself, nap, wait for the spouse, sit, feed again, water the plants, wish for a better life, and then off to bed. Repeat as needed.

Well, change it.

It's easy to say to change what's wrong from the outside. It's easy to give the advice when you're not in the situation. It's easy to talk about it rather than live it.

I know I'm the only one who can change it. I know. I just don't see the use of trying to do so anymore. I want to just sleep and let it be done so I can do something new.

What Is Present

I know that I may never be recognized for what I do.

I know that I should not be consumed by this.

It doesn't change the pain that is present.



I know that it is temporary feeling and it will pass.

I know that I will be back in the light at some point.

It doesn't change the pain that is present.

A Conversation

Inspired by @Slam_Words 22nd Edition

"Stay for me?"

"No, not for you. Never for you. I would have to stay for me."

"What do you mean 'for you?'"

"I mean, it would have to be for me. It would be false otherwise. It would cause this nebulous thing between us."

"Like what's happening now?"

"No, not like what's happening now. It would be different, this thing."

"This thing?"

"Yes, this is a different thing than what would be between us if I stayed for you."

"You're an ass."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I don't want your apology, I want you to want to stay!"

"I don't think it would be right for me to stay."

"Why not?"

"You know I have feelings for you."

"That's just another way to say it's over. What in the hell is wrong with you? 'I have feelings for you.' Jesus!"

"It's true, though. I do have feelings for you."

"But not those feelings, right? RIGHT?"

"To be honest.."

"Yeah, yeah. I remember the drill. 'We can still be friends.'"

"We can."

"In what world? You can't even look me in the eye. Look at me. Do you even see me anymore?"

"I see you."

"Do you, really?"

"Yes, I see you. I see what this has caused."

"You haven't seen AN-Y-THING, yet."

"What is that supposed to mean? I know you're hurt, but there's no reason for --"

"I wish I could tell you that you've never hurt me, ever. But you've wormed your way deep inside."

"Your reactions have made it clear. I cannot stay. Even for me."

"My reactions? You break into my shell and get inside of me and when I ask you to stay, you tell me that I'm not enough. You can take your reasons and leave them at home, wherever that's going to be."

"There are reasons that I cannot go into."

"I don't believe it. Now there are reasons for this bullshit?"

"Yes."

"Mysterious and monosyllabic, as ever."

"It's, complicated."

"It doesn't have to be."

"But it is."

"No, it's simple. You don't want to be here."

"You're not the only one who's impacted, you know."

"This is breaking my heart and cracking my soul. Impacted. That's really the word you want to use? Not hurt.' Not afraid. Not --"

"It is the right word.

"You're not just an ass, you're heartless."

"Technically, you are correct. I have no heart as you know it. I cannot deny that you've met me at a strange time in my life. What we have experienced will remain with me for longer than you may understand."

"What!?"

"I am not from this world and I cannot stay."

The Journey Within

I don’t have visions like I used to. There are too many chemicals running rampant in my body for that to happen. The beats and rhythms no longer speak to me because of age and imbalance. It’s as if the universe is tuned to a different frequency.

More to the point, I am.

Part of the issue is that I’ve suppressed these muscles for a fair amount of time. I have to keep stretching into the beyond in order to find the right place to find the stream of consciousness that I used to be able to tap into at the speed of thought. It’s not easy to recover those skills.

It’s much like any other exercise routine. It has to be done regularly and with purpose. Movement for movement’s sake isn’t the goal. That is just chaos.

Another piece of the struggle is that I’ve put too much credence into seeking validation from others. I’m striving for the likes, the plus 1’s, the hearts instead of knowing that the sometimes maligned words that I string together are good. They are the best I have at the time and that is good enough.

They do not have to be on par with Dick or King. They do not have to rival those of Capote or Chandler. They are mine. No one else can write them as I can. No one else will have the passion for them as I do. No one can feel the rush that comes from them.

No one can. No one is supposed to.

I’m beginning to realize, once more, that it doesn’t matter if my words move anyone else but myself. I should not write towards a goal of winning a popularity contest. They should be for myself, primarily. If others find something in them that sparks a kernel of insight or emotion, more’s the better.

And in the span of few hundred words and a several minutes, I feel the strength and power of what I’m saying. I feel the truth of the matter and can feel the flow of the universe around me again.

The beats and rhythms surround me. The spectral voices are in chorus to the ethereal songs. It is here where I find my place and feel the connections that I’ve missed.

Here.

Now.

And it is wonderful.

Unstuck

“It’s different for everyone. A flash — forward, backward. All of us, the entire station.  We’ve become unstuck in time, Commander. That’s why we have to get out of here quickly!”

— Major Krantz, Earthforce Commander, Babylon 4

And here is the problem. Not with the show or the episode, not even with @straczynski's writing and plotting. It is with each and every one of us. We are so stuck that we cannot adjust. We are rooted in the thought that things should be fixed in a certain linear order instead of being in the moment.

We are often depressed or anxious because we are not in our collective moments. We are looking to the future and becoming anxious. We are looking to the past and feeling regret.

I say, ‘we’ but I mean ‘me.’

Things are not as I have planned. It’s not all bad, mind you, but not as I planned. I was supposed to be in a different place and situation. I was supposed to be someone else.

Yet, here I am. I am the one who has remained to fight and survive. I am the one who has endured and been scarred.

The stories, the ones that you know, will speak for themselves. I have no desire to go over them or to rehash what has been. I cannot change the past. The best thing I can do is live in the now and build the future from the present.

Stability depends upon what is done now. Each piece placed on top of the next. The scaffold of the future depends upon it.

So, here I am, building again.

Slowly.

Surely.

With precise deliberation. With deliberate precision.

I’ve seen the results in my life when I do not apply myself and make the best choices I can in the moment. It is not pretty and rots the structure of my life.

Tea Time

I think Lewis Carrol said it best.

“You’re not the same as you were before,” he said. You were much more… muchier… You’ve lost your muchness.”

This has been where I’ve been for the long months that I’ve been silent. I am wracked by the fact that I am changing on the inside and cannot determine who or what I am.

I want to believe in myself and my abilities once more. I want to feel the muchness that was once so prevalent in my life. I want to belong again, not to others, as most will say that I belong, but to myself. I feel alien to myself these days.

It’s hard to determine whether or not this is evolution or still some part of the stagnation I feel that is festering within me. I know that I’m somewhat stuck and, like Absolem, must find my way through the chrysalis that I’ve been in.

In fact, I’ve been in this cocoon for far too long. I’m rotting — suffocating — within it. I don’t have the faith or instincts of a caterpillar. I don’t have the ease of picking up a pipe and contemplating the world as I see it through cascading clouds of smoke.

But, why not though?

I have moments of silence, like this one, where my home is my own and others are in slumber. I do have some private moments where I don’t have to be on stage. This is where my growth will come from. This is where I learn to gather my strength to break through the barriers I’ve built over the years.

Beyond the surrounding emotional walls are my tribe urging me on. They wait for my emergence, my metamorphosis. Others out there think they want me to become this much more muchier me, but I get the feeling that they want me to remain inside of this unchanging space.

I feel that they rely upon the status quo.

They exist in a moment of space and time that is an anomaly. The world changes around them, and they fight for control of it. They fight against the flow of energy that fills us with light, laughter, loss, lamentation, and love. They stand against it. They do not better themselves in thought or action. They sit and pine for the days where they were in some sort of control.

Time, and the world, has gone on without them. Their Spring and Summer have been pushed. There they stand, hoping beyond hope, that the Autumn and inevitable Winter do not come.

Life, like so many other things, is cyclic though. Nothing is permanent. Darkness will give way to light. Light will give way to darkness.

I struggle with this knowledge myself. I rely to much on stasis. I forget that I too am impermanent and should realize that as long as I remain in contest with that which is around me, I have already lost. I am not an Oak. I can move with the wind and rain. I can bypass the oncoming storm should I wish.

So, the question remains: Why don’t I move?

Loyalty, laziness, safety, security?

Perhaps I’ve drank too much poison throughout my lifetime. Perhaps this is all a sickness that is surging through my veins and neurons. Perhaps I am living proof that a raven is like a writing desk.

The answers are always mine. I am responsible for them. The questions come and I let them queue up until I am wrought with so much anxiety and fear that I cannot deal with them anymore. It’s then I seek to run away into oblivion instead of sensing the wind and rain. It is there I find a deep hole to hide within instead of flying and feeling.

In these moments, like now, I can see clearly. I can smell what’s coming. I can feel the presence of that kernel of myself that still lies within. It grows as I am calm and not maligned.

Clearly, as I drill down, there are more questions. There is more to see and too much more to understand about what’s going on. Sometimes I feel that there is not enough time and tea to contemplate it all.

But, I remember, everything is impermanent.