Dark Inventory continued...

Am I sleeping because I’m tired
and can’t stay awake?
Am I in slumber for an escape?
Am I at peace?
Am I awake
because I don’t want to be away?
Fighting to stay aware for one more
thought, one more moment.
Or am I in denial,
slipping slowly into a permanent place
that no one has ever been
or wants to be...

When will it all just be without them? Friends who are just friends who you have and do not use to define yourself. These people stick to people like me because we are a perfect match. My insecurities are there securities and we bond in a mini cycling world. Filling each others holes left over from another time. Children crying out and forced to gain there own answers in desperation. Everything finding a temporary bond that is so slowly progressing its harmless to the eye at first. Everything has a balance and it will balance. A familiar knowing from the parents, full of passed on holes in the personality. Copied adaptations of generation. Like a copy of a copy of a copy. The image, the surviving idea blurs from original quality. Eventually the balance will magnify and the bomb will go off. Every life taking something from the distorted image will be effected. The friend who became the gap filler will leave and I will be left with myself. Holes and all. This state will not be here for long. I have to find another substitute for the new missing. I have to balance.
I have to remind you. I have to remind myself, how sacred my parents are. Flaws reside in every family. Perfection is only a goal. It’s an unobtainable one, but a nice thought. Families believe in each other. Mine began with too much trust and denial. The drivers license was in hand and freedom came. All of this so far was just waiting underneath and the monster will progress. The lose of the "friend" and the search for the substitute begins. With the mental ward behind, the anger is kerosene for blue fire. The smoke will rise and the pills will fall in a flood of one eighty proof.
The "friend" I sporadically mention was my person drug. Before I was "using", I was using. Feeding off the whims of another. This was before the physical drug abuse. A fixation to once again fill that hole. So unsure and paranoid. Hoping the vicarious living would help give me my unobtainable. Help me break down my thick walls. Coveting his social deception and his ability to easily converse. Hate lacing my insides. Not so much towards him, but hating the lacking of myself. Coveting his girlfriend and there sex at fifteen and using my parents washer to clean his cum stained shirts. Envying and hating in a swirl of confusion.
Friends come and go, but never did measure up to his standards. So I let them go. They became second or I cut them out. He is my basis, the gap filler and confidante of what is and will be my temporary reality.
I must recognize the degradation of my past. I must stare these "friends" and family square in the face. Maybe not physically now as I write, but within myself. Give direct attention to the ones who have already taken so much. These are my amendments and I will weed out my false perceptions and stand finally in my own emptiness, scaring off anyone I may allow as temporary fillers in the future. No one is to blame.
I have to recognize. I have to. I have to forget the want and urge to control. I have to stop the consuming, the using of people. They all have to go. They continue to take so much. The decay is eroding the lining of a reality. One that could progress. I will get rid. The revolt against ones self is lonely and the opposing army was hand picked by me.
As I write in this present moment and continue my reflection I realize I am no longer blending into others satisfaction. Quietly gasping for stale air which soon will be circulated.
The revolt against myself is about to have its moment. I am not sure if I am strong enough as my wide eyes are painted with the circling figures, but I stand.
They circle rhythmically to a distant beat the I now can almost hear. They dance with backs facing then turn quickly, showing their maddening smirk to smile. As I speak symbolically they still play so vividly in my mind.
They were once hand picked by me to fill emptiness. They are remnants of the past corroding the lining of me. Decay of justifications for the abuse of confusion. They were once the present voices I listened to. The replacement generic conscience still ringing and snapping irresistible orders within my swelled head.
I’m a slave to the memories of my choosing. These people were my first addiction, my first happiness. We aren’t at fault, but we were false, fleeting and inevitably separated. I was the keeper and there is always a substitution.
There will now be an aware awakening. The past will continue its shackling swarm around me and I will face now. Slowly lifting my arm, hand and stretching finger to point out. To segregate and finally recognize what is and what is not.
I am going to play rough with my characters because they will linger if glorified in any way. Remember they were physical people at one time and their essence still plays on my mind. The "Friend" was the first person in a series of raw forced connections.
I can still see him taunting peers on the bus in a playful way as I sat down in the back. Our instant recognition of each other as he turned to look at me was as surreal as it gets for a ten year old. We met two years previous in pewee football smashing our heads together. He went to school in a different town that my family had just moved outside of. My father moved us out of our hometown because he was worried about the children my brother and I were associating with. As my "friend" and I realized that we were some of the last children still on the bus we grew excited. Or at least I did. We lived in the same subdivision it turned out and it seemed to be a friendship that was meant and would happen.
I have to remind of how far and deep I must go. I must uncover, from monotonous detail I am gaining some inner kind of strength. I am remembering the true meaning without filter. Some stories must be told within a story and played out to get rid of sticky demons.
These demons are raw and deliberate because they are comfortable. They are proud of my turn away from all the warnings and promise of my parents, the church, and all the conditioning figures in my life. They search for pain. They search for agony and screams from the bottom deep. Inside the spiraling rabbit hole of my labyrinth constructed mind im in there building, piecing and distorting the essence of you. I have just met you and I am already looking for a place to store you. Feeding you, prodding you, provoking your darkest side. I want to play without boundaries and I want you to leave a permanent scare on my mind. I want to keep a part of you to fill a part of me. I will trust and listen and understand what makes you happy. Filling my emptiness with your satisfaction. Learning self pity. Learning defense in assumption of others perception. Paranoid and waiting for your next move. Not really ever knowing what its like to be independently satisfied with ones self. Always searching. Trailing off the path to avidly fill the expanding hole within me. Darkening souls complection to help me steer the wheel straight down to my own misunderstanding. A collector of un acceptable ulterior motive to keep holding on to the justifications. Cry and not understanding anything then what I have spoken to myself is contradicted and replaced by something false. Rambling on and slowing down for everyone to forget myself. Crippling once understood self to better be my representative. More of an absorbent of false and fleeting instant gratification. Growing restless with every answer I already my have. Desperate for someone to tell me what a true feeling is and if I am capable of feeling it. Giving up on a part of myself that may never trust me again. A part of me I may never get back. So I look else where. Letting it all melt away and physically searching for the part of me I lost and gave up on in others.
I write now in a shout turned scream. Set out to say one thing and trailing off into another. Going rampant in a run a muck of words that may try to describe the agony I am strung out on. I want to turn away. I just can’t look fully because I have no idea when the spill will turn from a trickle to waves. Every word that continues closer becomes hot brand to skin. My words are melting in front of my eyes and simply mesh together and collect no sense. No meaning attached and just words for words that run away. Scared words that run a way at thought of becoming a shovel for an insight. Words for words that just melt away refusing to be a mirror. Words for the sake of words that melt away. They just want to play without form and no meaning, no control. Words that I have to give life to and manage. Words that must seek and press on. Words that will now be used to search for me, give some insight to me. Not a run on because I have hold of the reigns for now. I guide in my way for now. I use just words for now. Press on for now. And the pace will once again pick up in my inward direction.
The "friend" had no work necessary when it came to my need of fulling through his gratification. "Norman!" he yelled before we got off the bus. Last name was the typical greeting we were conditioned to from many long hours of football practice. I had to be about nice or ten years old, young in this impressionable time. "What are you doing here man?" he asked in an amazed ton. "I just moved" I excitedly repeated. A friend on the first day of school. A familiar face. I was relieved. He stared at me with that now all too familiar smirk, then was distracted and began his taunt again.
The last stop was our subdivision. We got off the bus and dropped to the cold fall pavement. The loud engine of the fading yellow bus roared as my friend and I started to move in opposite directions. "Well you should come over sometime man" he said as I slowly walked down the road. I nodded my head trying to grab hold of this friend. Trying to understand the coincidence. His house was right across the street from the bus stop, mine was just down the hill a ways.
At first, our friendship drifted apart, together, then apart again. It seems to be the tragedy of my line of close people, people I seemed to need in my life at periodic times. My "friend" he was and we were a perfect match for that time in our lives. Shaping more of each other in childhood play then we would ever know.
The subdivision lake on my right as I turned left out of our driveway. I would walk quickly up the hill to his house. Once I reached his house we would tell his parents goodbye. We would usually head for the woods until the sun went down. Finding a place to imagine, be children and find a different place to do so about every day. Boredom we felt in our imagination. He would come up with great stories and childhood deception for an audience of just me usually. I was very gullible and attentive to what he had to say. Craving the association we had with each other. He seemed to be what was missing in me. He seemed to be full filling another need for consistency in my life. I guess I just needed that primary friend in my life. Doing everything that I could to keep that person stationary in my life. I am sure there is an understanding to a degree. I just fed off that person for a kind of mental survival. An emotional craving I can not explain fully. I trusted him. I had many friends and associations before him and during his time, but none of them did me justice like he did. I still to this day can not quite understand what one person gives me that another does not. How my grandiose perception can seem so sweet with one and not with the other. I would follow him through the back woods of the subdivision. I would follow. I would always leave all the decisions up to him and always outside of myself. I can not really remember the detail of our dialogue, but only the sense of pride and appreciation I had for our friendship. For the little clubs children form to pass time. We had ours. The trips down to the lake in summer and the swims to the floating dock we would play on until dark. Until our silhouettes could only be seen merging from the water. The assortment of neighborhood children we would group with for a time. Letting them into our circle for a couple of weeks and would drop in a cruel childish game for our own amusement.
We used to find and climb to the abandoned deer stands of hunters out of season. He seemed to be more of a realized child then I. An awareness that I envied so I was passive to his ideas. We roamed the wooded area around the subdivision in search of a place to stash nude magazines that we could manage to sneak away from our fathers unnoticed and theorize our childish theory of what we believed important.
I would mainly listen to him and feed into his ideas. Listen to his thoughts of other children around the neighborhood. He had become the only friend that mattered to me and made the decisions on who was allowed in our circle and who was not.
We would take my brother along sometimes. My brother never had any trouble being apart of a group. He seemed to have an attraction to him. People just accepted and wanted to be around him. It was so easy for him to be liked in my eyes. My perception allowed me to belittle my worth before anyone could actually attempt to do it themselves. My "friend" and my brother would hang out without me sometimes. The jealously destroyed me. I was possessive. I would have to give more. I would have to do more. I would have to out weigh somehow, everyone else. Find a false way to gain his whole attention again.
I figured he would make sense of the world for me and the distorted kind of trust I had for him would allow him to do that whether he wanted to or not. As we continued to play the part of the neighborhood children, I believed in a way he picked up on my insecurities. My passion to please other human beings at the expense of what I truly wanted was apparent. The other children I associated with I had no problem using for small gains and young childish pleasures. Not him though. He stood high in my world, my very fixated world. Coveting was special to me and was reserved for what I considered the very best. The ones who would never stop taking what I for some reason needed to give away. Necessary ingredients for the basic core of developing human beings. I was using materialistic ways as bait to lure out his natural lust and want for what temporary consuming happiness is . I would gain pleasure out of others temporary pleasure. Almost such an unaware child testing to see what brings another true happiness. Throwing something that should make me happy in front of someone else to see what happens. Eventually running out of "things" for him. Sometimes throwing out parts of myself to satisfy. Throwing out my self esteem. Throwing out those things and forgetting how to get them back. He wasn’t the only one I used for this distortion. At the time though the dangerous bond grew in a give and take of one sided.
It has taken so much time to even get this far in my attempt to face my "demons". I will endure my past this time. I will fight through the lost expectations that have wounded me deeply. I must take breaths. I must get beyond these people. I must move past myself. Stare down these morphed distorted creatures that live within me. These creatures that used to be living breathing people, affecting my life directly. Now they are the protectors of my demise. My mental cancer I cannot let go of. I am so comfortable living in the distorted shadow of these characters I have created from the distant past. It will take many struggling blurbs of words to gain some what of a recognition of the full distortion.


Popular posts from this blog

Fellow Freaks and our Triple V

The Endless Definitive Dance of Self

Retreating with Fog