In some dying there is life.
“I don’t believe in fate or destiny. I believe in various degrees of hatred, paranoia, and abandonment. However much of that gets heaped upon you doesn’t matter – it’s only a matter of how much you can take and what it does to you.”
– Henry Rollins –
There is a new clarity, a new knowledge and some kind of peace I am beginning to find. In this honest reassessment of my life. Of what I am. In what I truly am.
The expectations are starting to fade and the need to feel understood are less important. I am learning much about the world now. A world that at most turns has in some form or another told me I am not very welcome. This ain’t no “Woe is me…” song. It’s just how it works. For all the times I have watched you walk away, for all the times I have been told what others have given and been for you, for all the times I have wanted to be close, to be cared about. And it hasn’t happened. When I have heard you tell of the lengths you’ve gone to for others and wondered if you’d go that far for me, only to find out later you wouldn’t. The wounds I carved into myself every time I’ve been lost to the loneliness and rejection. It’s just come to a final point. I am the animal/machine and not functional within your rarefied atmosphere. I can hold my breath for short periods and enter into your world and move about. But eventually I always have to retreat and move back again to this place of silence and aloneness. And depressurize slowly and carefully in some steel walled chamber lest I suffer the bends.
And all that has closed me.
I wanted to be your friend, your love, your companion. But I have failed at that and you’ve either boldly and coldly cast me off or politely and with placating gestures and forced smiles moved off.
So I accept that I am not a bad thing, I have some incredible gifts and qualities. I am not really malicious or cruel. And I feel everything so damned acutely. In such finite and excruciating detail. I weep for you and hurt for you. I talk to you and relate my experiences with you. But tell you nothing about myself because for you to reject who I am, would destroy me. Because it’s all I got. I am the animal/machine.
I will no more attempt closeness or love. I will no longer search out the mythical other half or missing piece. I even test the stars to see if God truly does dwell there. Because I am learning that I may no longer need even that. I am building a self-sustaining suit I can move through the days in. A tin man with rusted joints and a respirator smile.
And I am finding that for the first time in my life I am starting to know me. To really be aware of me. You can’t hurt me now. You can look at me and cringe at my scars, broken mouth and crazy words. But it doesn’t matter because I have made my choice. I am all there needs to be. I am at peace alone in here. I don’t hate you. Anymore than I could hate a person from another planet for being different from me.
And to the few. The ones who have taken my deepest self and my love and then given it back and in some cases tearing it to shreds as you do. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I don’t see you in the dark of my room at night anymore. I don’t miss your touch, your smell or your voice. There are no more openings in my armor for you to get to the flesh anymore. There is no longer a feeling of betrayal or hurt. There is just these slowly yellowing images in my mind. And in time even those will disappear. Then I’ll have no memory at all. I’ll be a perfect machine, erased and clean.
And here is where I stand alone and stronger.
I promise I’ll write about more than these xenophobic rants next time around.