The Final Lament
So I’m moving tomorrow. It’s official.
I feel fucked up about so much stuff going on in my life in such a short span of time. I didn’t want all of this, nor did I deserve it, but I have to live with it.
Living with pain has become natural to me. It’s a sad fact. It’s almost comfortable because it’s been sitting for so long. But I have to let it go. I have to let my Dad go, and I, I have to let go.
I had an intense conversation about life with my mom when we were taking a break from packing, one about how I felt about everything, how I need my space, about my Dad, and she kept telling me, “Don’t let him ruin your future.” I wish I could just let go of all that anger, but even after writing that letter, I still feel a lot of pain and anguish. She even told me more things that he did… Things that made me want to kill him. It was not an easy conversation to have.
I’m sitting here, the last afternoon in this room, lamenting about what was, and how things will be different. I will be homeless as of Noon tomorrow. I will be living in a hotel with my Mom and my pets, instead of a house, or another apartment, and I am not entirely comfortable with this fact.
I was left with no other alternatives, but accept it, and I will keep going. I can’t stop, I won’t stop.
I feel like shit right now. I’m tired, I’m frustrated, I’m mentally fucked up… I could go on. That’s focusing on the negative, but I suppose I will allow it for the moment.
Fear is what drives us. Fear that things will not go our way. Fear that we aren’t living up to our potential. Fear that we could die at any given moment.
What I really want right now? A moment without Fear. It is coming.
The Hand That Feeds
I woke up this morning in a state of disarray and shock. I dreamed that I was talking to my best friend on the phone while vomiting/spitting up blood over the toilet bowl. It kept going and going, and I thought I was going to die. I thought that because I had smoked so much, I had gotten internal bleeding in my lungs and my capillaries were closing and/or swollen. But then, when I was about to pass out, I woke up in my bed, covered in a cold sweat. It was just a dream, breathe Henry, breathe.
It put the fear of God in me. I am convinced that it was my psyche telling me something, something that I needed to experience in order to understand something. I talked to one of my newer followers on twitter, TilWeKielOver (she’s awesome btw), and she said it might have been me purging the toxicity and emotions I had over my father, a representation of removing him from my life. She might be right. For a long time, I was holding so much in against him, it built up, and I finally let the floodgates open this past week. It was spreading so much that it was like a Cancer, creeping into my very being. If I hadn’t done it when I did, I might have exploded unexpectedly, and I would have become just like my father, the very thing I have fought not to be.
We are our own worst enemy.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Nine Inch Nails lately, hence the title of this post, and I can understand the pain that Trent Reznor has gone through, even if I have not experienced it for myself. His music comes from a dark place within his very soul, a torrent of anger, lust, pain, hate, agony, and self-deprecation. I really appreciate the music now more than ever. It is helping me to remove the demons, to remind myself that I have control. I never really listened to NIN before these last few weeks, though I completely enjoyed The Social Network soundtrack (Oscar and Grammy worthy in my humble opinion). I guess I am just naturally progressing in my musical tastes as I always have, looking to go deeper, and explore.
You see, I am open to new ideas as I am to new experiences, tastes, and cultures. I appreciate each thing for what it is instead of just treating it as if it was wrong, scoffing at it for not being what I like. Even if I see flaws, I accept them, and I embrace them, for nothing in this world is perfect, no matter how much we want it to be, and this is coming from someone who considers themselves a perfectionist. I can’t always get exactly what I want, but I try, and most of the time that effort allows me to succeed. In the times it doesn’t, I learn from my mistakes, and I move forward. Life does not stop for one man, nor shall it EVER stop for one man.
This relates to the other night, when someone commented on a friend of mine’s post, and said that she was wrong about this, that, and the other. Is it wrong to have a varying opinion than someone else? Is it so wrong to have your own opinion? Respect is the key word here. Whether we like it or not, we will not always agree, but we can discuss, and compromise. It’s people like that someone that give me pause, and make me scared for the future. I am rare because I am so open. I say what I think, even if it costs me dearly because, as they say, the truth will set you free.
I cannot express how important it is that we try and understand the differences between us, and that we accept each other for our good qualities as much as our flaws. It is difficult, but compromise is always possible given the right circumstances. The choices we make, we, as a whole, that effect the greater good. It’s not one person, for one person can change the lives of many, but they cannot change the world without the whole behind them.
In passing, do we bite the hand that feeds us? Do we place blame on others when we have as much blame as they do, if not more so? We need to realize that nothing will ever get done if we just sit around all day and point fingers at each other. We need action, not thoughtless action, but we need some kind of movement forward. I know I do.