Someone took a candid photo of a fight in Ukranian Parliament that is as well-composed as the best renaissance art.
I’m not one to complain.
Ok, I’ll be more honest, I’m not one to complain about real issues in my life.
Those things tend to stay under the surface. I try to make everyone as oblivious to these issues as much as I can. But for the sake of me dying tonight with ten thousand pounds of self-pity on my chest I’d thought typing it and pushing it out into the world might help. If only in the slightest.
See, I’m not an intelligent man. Neither am I an attractive one by any means, though there will be a few to come to my defense and say I’m “handsome”. Which is of course the friendly way of saying “Please stop complaining, no one cares about you, I don’t have anything to say to that, but I’m your friend.” To those friends I say thank you, which of course means “Fuck you you’re not allowed to tell me how I feel.”
To my friends that may happen across this post I’ll apologize in advance if you bring it up to me, and make a deflecting comment about me having a bad night. Future sorries in order and accounted for.
Since I lack most traits that make one worthwhile in this world I’ve accumulated the leftover talents that most would do without.
Able to sing (if only slightly).
Good with computers.
and my ability to be brutally honest while concealing my biggest flaws.
I would like to believe in another life I would’ve became a famous writer or lawyer of some sort. Wording my way through mahogany desks like a painter slides acrylic across a wet canvas. Describing my life through a rhythmic chant of self-loathing and agonizing chaos. But alas, my sentence structures are failing and my grammar would be, how you say, deplorable.
But what I can say of late, despite my list of useless skills, is that my life is in the toilet.
There’s a great saying somewhere in a book that’s long lost it’s usefulness that says this:
"I can’t change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination"
I find it fitting for my life right now. I identify with life being a hurricane and myself a small schooner just trying to stay afloat. I tell the mainline and my crewmen that this will pass, that this is nothing to worry about. I’ve handled storms of this magnitude and I’ve come out the successor, so why not this one?
The answer of course, is endurance.
My life has been in this hurricane for over two years now. Bouncing from job to job, trying to get what I can, and gaining experience where I can get it. But I’ve exhausted those methods, I’ve changed my coarse so many times that to call my current situation moronic is an understatement.
I’m basically jobless, living with my grandmother, and in so much college and credit card debt that I have no real answer to other than “wait”
The tormented words from a parent to a child. Wait. As if my life is in stasis or my efforts are without naught. Wait. As if to say, what you’re doing isn’t what you’ll do, but rather what will lead to blah blah blah
It seems this is what my life has become.
I graduated college with one thing in mind. Go out, get the job I love, and do what I love until I have enough money to do what I wanted so I could never work again in my life. That was the plan. The ladder to this plan has been riddled with pot holes, misnomers, and side tracks.
Of course the road to victory is paved with the bodies of the fallen, I refuse to continue living on this road for the rest of my life.
I’ve had a few friends tell me that this is just life, that this is what happens when the safety net of college or studies is removed. This is what happens when you’re out on your own.
While I agree, I would like to intersect with a laundry list of successful people who didn’t wait. Who went out and got what they wanted. Who worked their asses off to be exceptional, regardless of housing situation, birthright, or gender These people made their lives work.
…At least that’s what I tell myself.
What’s more to the point is that most people are in the same situation I’m in but have a better mask to hide the child screaming for comfort and his blanket. I’m trying to so hard to stay as one of those people, but it’s becoming clear to me that I’m just not.
I’m a mess.
I’m a wreck.
I have nowhere to go, with no foreseeable future that looks bright enough to live in.
While this may sound like a suicidal thought, trust me when I say, I’m not rude enough to inconvenience my family and friends of my selfish decision to end my life in both a glorious or rudimentary fashion. Also when I say selfish, I’m pointing to suicide being an answer to my problems, thus making it selfish. I have no medical depression or am on any type of medication, and from what I can tell I’ve never battled depression other than a few rounds of crying into my pillow over ex-girlfriends. I didn’t mean to mislead anyone into thinking that I think suicide is a selfish decision. It’s not, but it’s also never the right one. I know that. Hold your phone calls please. Rather call someone for help if you are thinking of suicide.
I simply mean that I don’t want to be where I’m at with who I’m with around the area I’m in. As much as that sentence wants to be a pop punk line, I don’t think it is. At least not yet. I guess what I’m saying is, for once in my life, I don’t know what to do. I mean, I’ve never known, but at least now I’m telling myself that I really don’t fucking know, and that scares the shit out of me.
I’ve written too much tonight, I should probably stop. Thanks for being my go-to tumblr. I appreciate it. Also, people who will anon message me because of this, please don’t. I neither want your words of encouragement, lines of compliments, or unrequited hate. I simply would like to post this and be left alone.