Writing on Life:
Collecting memories. The pitter-patter of padded feet, scurrying down the hall. The hall I walked through, taking for granted the frame it provided for my life. A hall with broken glass and broken promises. Standing there empty, vacant; no more sounds, no more life...subtle echo from the whimper in my voice. Voice cracking, eyes burning, chest crashing and burning and blazing...That’s where I’ve been. That’s the journey I go on in my head. One of many. Many more loom and loop and finally bring me back to where I started. Nowhere. We come from nothing. Leave with nothing. What can you do to actually make an impact? Do you care if you’re forgotten? Because life goes on. Skies still sparkle. Love persists. How can we? There’s so much static. Too much noise. It’s nearly impossible to disconnect and truly see anymore. It breaks my heart. It’s been broken for so long it seems...so I sit in the gym. I keep to myself. I smile at passersby. Conversations about my shirts or shoes or tattoos or my beard. Most times I wish I could say hey...thank you. I’m not ok.
Can’t get a handle on whether it’s regret or alcoholism or ptsd or just the dumpster fire life has been the last few years. I get up. Write code. Destroy myself in the gym. Eat my meals. Rinse. Repeat. Still finding my way, and as far as I can tell, we all are. It gives me hope. Sometimes. There’s so much good in all of us. I’ve seen some truly evil shit though, I’ve seen it in me, in loved ones, in strangers. Fairly overwhelmed and searching for something that doesn’t exist anymore...but I’m still here.
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