For all or nothing

Something has got me mystified at the moment. The way we get opened up by life. It cuts to the bone. You recognise others who have been wounded that deep. It’s all the way. Only a few manage to stay sane, any bum on the street is a classic case of the fallen. The others, ones like maybe you and me, we manage to pretend, manage to remain functioning in our lives somehow. I don’t understand it. I have given up everything, been thrown and leapt into death and the fires of insanity, and yet sprung back each time. Alive again. Maybe not even wanting to be, but in truth, not really much caring either way. It’s almost a gift.

All I ever wanted was the world to respond, the universe out there, just to do something that showed it had a value to our existence, however small we may be.

I watch everyone each day. Are they all so blind to what is happening about them. Floating on a rock spinning out of control in God knows what kind of creation? And yet the most important thing to them is something so inconsequential as what is on the TV next, or what they can do to impress someone, to belong. That’s what I call crazy.

People think it’s depression. I even wonder myself sometimes, but it isn’t depression, it is a darkness, sure, but it is a powerful truth. A fearless truth. It has its purpose. Life in a foxhole. Staring at the shadows knowing the unknown lies behind them, fills them, waiting for us. Looking at them too long sucks the shine out of your eyes. That’s the danger. That was my mistake in the end. Looking too long and too hard in the hope of finding an answer, a cure for the fallen. I was warned, I just couldn’t listen, wouldn’t listen. Not interested. Give me one punch at God, just one good one. The difference between us is that I’ll help him back up and give him a hug and maybe say something like ‘see how it feels, now don’t do it again’. I wont leave him in the dirt.

It isn’t a cry for help, or a tear from a broken heart, it isn’t a wish for better days, or a fear of loneliness, or any thing of the kind. It’s deliberately living with a poison in your veins because there has to be a solution for all, and it won’t be found any other way.