“All human wisdom is summed up in two words; wait and hope.”
“Extreme hopes are born from extreme misery.”
“Beware how you take away hope from another human being.”
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
“The Wise are silent, the Foolish speak, and the children are, thus, led astray.”
Anxiety is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained.
— Arthur Somers Roche
Injustice alone can shake down the pillars of the skies, and restore the reign of Chaos and Night.
— Horace Mann
America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.
— Abraham Lincoln
In Full Metal Jacket, when he said,
“I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you.”
I am randomly typpling (type babbling), yes, I know this… my personal Microsoft Word screen seriously could fuck me with all the secrets and truths it has seen at my hand, fuck it though…transparency is the new thing isn’t it?
I have given up my appearance altogether, I suppose…couldn’t tell you when the last time I looked in a mirror at myself…hmmmm…the possible causes behind this fact aren’t lost on me, either…
Something is happening inside of me again; although I couldn’t possibly describe any of what those “somethings” may actually be in the big picture of things; and I am not trying to find any way to describe it – there’s just a slew of mental data on upload at present; and my mental data down-link seems to be broken, too. There’s just a fuck-ton of shit coming in, and nothing moving aside to make room for it; if that even makes sense to anyone reading this.
Failure is something has come to define my every moment of each passing day for me; it began slowly when Boo was put into “residential treatment” almost a decade ago and only snowballed from that point on. The many things that have subsequently gone horribly awry since then have accumulated into a vast and freezing cold tomb; each instance of my own perceived failings stacking up against the previous until the room shrinks. Failure has been something that I struggle with regularly, and I often lose the fight with it because of its overwhelming and constant presence. I go to a psychiatrist based on this failure (and its many facets and faces); he repeatedly instructs me to “just let it go”…
Abandonment is another key element that is deeply embedded in my marred psychological profile; this element is born of my inability to “just let it go” when it came to my inter-personal relationships with parents during infancy and childhood (most notably a then ever-absent mother). It has mutated the human being that I was born as into a different version of who I might have been in a “healthy and/or intact family setting”; over time, it has warped my perception of others who I feel any closeness to – a mechanism of the emotionally fearful and unstable. I am extremely insecure inter-personally, and it only becomes an exacerbated symptom when I give two shits about the other person involved. I am afraid of people in general; not in a physically cowed way though…I am terrified of interacting with others because of the emotional traumas that inevitably attach themselves to each and every experience with closeness to another human being (or the socially mutated versions of one).
Truth is another crucial piece of who I am from one moment to the next; it has come to burn in my veins like molten lava these days, and growing increasingly more important to every nano-thought in my head. Acceptance of truth is part of this element; and as painful as this aspect often is for me, in my own experiences, the truth carries weight that is undeniably addictive to my heart, spirit and mind somehow…
Perhaps after all, “the truth shall set me free”.
A loveless life is a living death.
~ Old English Proverb
What good is honor when you’re starving?
~ Yiddish Proverb
The heaviest weight in the world is an empty pocket.
~ Jewish Proverb
Pleasures are transient, honors are immortal.
~ Greek Proverb
“In this poor body, composed of one hundred bones and nine openings, is something called spirit; a flimsy curtain swept this way and that by the slightest breeze. It is spirit, such as it is, which led me to poetry, at first little more than a pastime, then the full business of my life. There have been times when my spirit, so dejected, almost gave up the quest, other times when it was proud, triumphant. So it has been from the very start, never finding peace with itself, always doubting the worth of what it makes.”
This is a post with a certain someone in mind and at heart; but Basho pretty much sums up the lifelong inner-boxing match endured by all poets and writers…as a matter of fact, it describes anybody’s struggle with SELF.