Journal Page One

Journal Page One

Saturday, October 27, 2012

4:24 AM

I wanted to confess to someone, anyone. Primarily about all of the messed up things that keep filling up whatever joy I attempt to have in my life.

Juicy After, probably the person that knows me best in this world has trouble being serious in life threatening moments, let alone moments involving my current predicaments.

 

"Just meditate on it" hell, I remember when her saying for me to meditate meant to get the condoms and hit the lights. Now it mean sit in the shower alone and try to drown out every sound in the world.

 

Somehow I became this twenty year old man, but I feel now more than ever like a clueless child. All the adventurous imagination, but none of the means to make it so.

Every time I believe I have a win, it turns around to smack me in the face, like picking up a hot babe only to find out she is a tranny.

 

I know people twice, three times my age who don't have half of the medical problems I have. Yet they have the most incredible insurance ever.  No job for me equals no money, equals no Med Insurance, equals big problems and long waits for me and my impatient organs.

 

Getting to see the girls again after a few months lifted me up a bit, only to send me back down realizing that so much had happened in those few months for them while not s**t happened for me other than getting sicker and fatter. I find that I am more jealous of my best friends than anyone would or should ever be. That’s me though, the jealous lonely high school dropout pill popper.

 

It's gotten to where I will take any pill for an escape from the pain. Real pain, real issues and real pointless. Nobody wants to hire a pill popping Kidney/Liver patient who cannot lift more than fifty pounds.

 

Invalid, Disabled, Nugatory, void, these are just a few of the words that I feel will consume my future.

 

The open secret of how I feel for my best friends sister, the vital ignorance of the person in question. It all seems to pile up. It is almost laughable how childish and redundant I am over this. Jay said it best, "talk to HER about it. Not everyone else." and he is right. In the end the only two people it should effect are she and I. unfortunately things are never that simple.  "you don't even know her that well, so there is no way that you can have those kind of feelings."  is what Dr.Diamond would say. But I know her eyes, I know her face and I can't control how I feel . Sepia Dreamer knows how much of a man s**t I used to be, so if I even tried to talk to her about it she would defend her sibling. 

 

Poverty, health, love, and war. An inner war inside of me that can rarely be considered  adult, or healthy. Any s**t weed I can find to help me sleep at night is barely enough to keep these memories from flooding my cerebellum when I dream. I may not have been in any gang violence situations since I was 10, and even then I was barely paying attention, but I can see the faces of dead people. Be they dead from murder, or natural causes. Whether I actually saw their dead faces or not, they haunt me.

 

I am no Protagonist, not the Antagonist. Hell I am not even the f*****g sidekick. I feel like I am just one of the background characters whose story doesn’t matter to anyone but himself.

 

I suppose I am not a mindless drone like so many other sycophantic politician, musician or film star fanatics. I don't have the 'I Support Obama" sticker on my car, neither do I have the "Romney 2012" banner in my front yard. And when people speak of such things… or how they gossip about bradjolina's divorce papers, I shudder. I get sick to my stomach of all of these disgusting humans and their revolting sickening need for dramatic stories and terrible things. Then I look at my skin and realize that I too am  one of these ridiculous creatures.

 

I get stuck on these thoughts and can't even look past the redundant repetition and mindless monotony of my 'life'.

 

'No Giving Up' is what Frankenstorm says. She wouldn't say that if she knew a part of me wanted to be with Throttle Fire. But how can I not give up? Twenty years old with the kidneys of a fifty year old pill popper and the liver of a forty year old drunk.

 

There was a time in my life when I stayed up nights researching kidney information and preparing for the worst. But all that did was make a paranoid hypochondriac who thought getting a little tan was a sign of jaundice. Now, it feels as though I truly have given up on this kidney s**t. Just accepting that if I am truly lucky I will make it to twenty five possibly thirty before I am on daily dialysis.

 

I don't always get what I want I guess. Love, a beautiful woman, work, money, health, not even a certain death.

 

I know who I want, I know who and what I cannot have. I know what I need, what I cannot get on my own, that no one will ever give me.

 

The cast has not changed at all. But the story just keeps getting deeper and deeper.

 

"I don't Know what to say" is what Dr.Diamond said.  I guess maybe it is time I stop acting like I do. 

Author's Note

discussing some extremely personal topics. some things i feel i just need to get off my chest. code names are there for many different reasons. yeah so whatever.

Reviews

[Sagar Waingankar]

Truly it's hard to get rid off of confusing dilemma that may end an individual someday but so it just remains an illusion!

[Coyote Poetry]

This is a real story. Like reading a Hemingway journey. No-one learn the easy way. We must fall down many times to awake to the real world. I watch my brother's and nephews fall to drugs. Need support to defeat the internal demons. Thank you for sharing the powerful story. Real life is more scary then fantasy when we can see a escape route. A outstanding story.
Coyote