Words Escape Me

And let them stay away.  I wish I was a mute sometimes.

I don’t know what I’m going to write here, I was drunk last night and never really fell into any sort of sleep.  I’m very tired now but there’s nothing to do here at work and I’m going crazy inside and out.  The exhaustion is back today, rearing its ugly head and with it is a lot of pain and just downright misery.

And that doesn’t make me weak to me.  Being fragile in front of someone doesn’t make me weak to me.  Needing someone doesn’t make me weak…not when it’s just a single specific someone and it’s with the full knowledge that if that person doesn’t help me up I’ll just have to get up myself.  I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again I’m sure.  But wouldn’t it be nice to sometimes just have that someone there?  I’ve been fortunate to have them probably more than a lot of people get.  I guess I shouldn’t push it.  But I will.  But it doesn’t make me weak.

It makes me a guy who didn’t sleep.  A guy who had some drinks with his roommates and his brother and pretended to be fine.  A guy who spent the night staring at a cell phone, smelling a blanket, looking out the patio windows, clutching a dog.  It’s a pathetic and disgusting image, no?  I see that people would see that.  Why then, do I like it?  No idea really.  It’s just something beautiful to me.  I didnt’ mean to do it to be beautiful.  I really just wanted to fall asleep.  Drinking lately has just knocked me out, but of course, the time I really count on it to, it fails me.

I’m no longer for long distance relationships…not ones of any duration.  It’s not that I don’t believe they can work, I believe they can, I hope this one will.  But I’m so tired of talking.  I have talked for years and years about anything and everything my mind could imagine.  I escaped a world of forced silence, domineering parents with viewpoints unwavering and unquestionable who punished dissent, a school where I was an outcast and only able to keep a friend by entertaining the ideas and notions they desired to entertain.  And my own thoughts?  They settled here.  They came in poems and snippets and frustrations mounting exponentially to misery.  And then I went to college and a new world opened up.  One completely different.  There was a certain level of acceptance and people to actually talk to about things…and a willingness to not beat the shit out of someone who spoke intelligently about things and other people who spoke intelligent things.  But after four years I came to find that the thoughts, the ideas, the conversations, they didn’t amount to much of anything.  They were just talk.  The guy I talked philosophically with for three to five hours at a time with just graduated after six years of taking no classes.  He possessed no action to go with his ideas.  75% of the people I went to High School with still live around Chetek.  35% I went to college with still live near River Falls.  Their lives are fine.  They have made choices that are not like my own.   They are happier than I am and I’m the one out in the world supposedly pursuing something they envy.  So who is more intelligent? 

I’m tired of talking.  I’m tired of judging.  I’m tired of arrogance.  I’m tired of everything.  I fall into the traps and pick up bad habits and old habits and do things I know I shouldn’t do and then I abandon them and pick them up again when my mind isn’t paying attention or weakens.  I try my best.  I fail a lot.  But that doesn’t make me weak.

I believe that no one knows much of anything right, right in a universal sense.  I believe we all decide for ourselves our philosophies and idioms, the things that we believe to be true, the things we believe to be false.  We put people in different categories: Friends, Lovers, Enemies, Don’t Waste Our Time On, Keep Around When We Shouldn’t, etc.  We file people away into these places based upon their own personalities.  And then we all try to make everybody else think like us.  Why?  Why the hell do I want anyone to think like me?  Am I happy?  Sometimes I’m ecstatic.  I could list the times but they’d seem schmaltzy and trivial and the one of three people who reads this I think doesn’t want or desire to hear that crap right now.  And sometimes I feel very happy for silly reasons that just…are part of me.  But many times I feel sad.  I have ideas why.  I go about trying to solve them in my own way.  Sometimes I let people in to help me.  Sometimes I don’t.  Because sometimes when I let people in they help and other times I let them in and they just go around with steel-toed boots and kick the soft spots of my heart and soul.  But I find that very few if any people have not done this at one time or another to me and I’ve done it to many people.

I face the fact knowingly that what seems to probably be wrong with the situation is me.  After so many failed attempts at relationships of all sorts, the only common denominator is me.  So says a "random" noter and there is some truth to it I suppose.  I can’t rule it out.  I wish I could.  We all try to do that: either we stop caring and forget all blame entirely or we seek out someone who will make us feel that we’re all right inside.  That who we are is something good.  I do the latter.  I don’t think  that makes me weak.

Maybe I’m wrong.