Overcome by unexpected sadness

Cannot shake off the existence of a self today.

I’m sad, very sad.

I don’t know why.

Not completely, that is.

I once took the chance opportunity to deviate from the path laid out for me — BORNMARRYPROCREATEDIE.

That opportunity did not work out.

At the time I was a smalltime drug dealer working at a restaurant to cover my overhead costs.

I had found a flat with Amy Easter, for whom I was her supplier and whom she wanted as her pimp/daddy.

She moved a few of her things into the flat but the clients she brought over didn’t trust me because they thought I was too square so Amy never fully moved in with me.

Thus, I was left to pay both halves of our rent which I couldn’t afford.

I thought I was going to fully develop my new persona.

But it didn’t work out the way I thought.

Amy was a free spirit which also meant she was irresponsible and a sociopath.

She had no problem lying about anything and everything, which appealed to the fiction writer in me.

Mostly, I am a gentleman in regards to writing/bragging about my sexual activities with others, discretion is the better part of valour, et cetera.

I hesitate to write about nongentlemenly topics because of a fear of retribution from unknown social censors/thought police.

Amy had no such builtin fears.

More as it develops…

The sketchbook project

Whilst my childhood friend helps Mom learn Windows 10 and Office 2016, I meditate.

I meditate upon my love for others, which used to spring forth from a tiny well but now that I know the well never runs dry I give love without end.

To my friends.

My family.

A love I used to keep to myself because of fears, worries that I wouldn’t fit in if others knew what I let people do to me un/willingly.

But now I know otherwise.

We live, and in living we gather memories that aren’t always pleasant but pleasantness and happiness aren’t the only colours on our palette.

We are deep hues, shades of visible light reflection and quantum entanglement.

I am me because of you.

My love is endless because you’re in my life, then, now, forever woven into the history of our species, reaching out into the cosmos.

My love is endless because I stopped asking why.

Ten minutes

Ten minutes at the end of a meal break,

Ten minutes alone at work,

Ten minutes surrounded by virtual friends,

Nine minutes to recognise my depression,

Eight minutes to ask why I don’t cry anymore,

Seven minutes to know why I laugh and smile,

Six minutes to listen to cicadas,

Six minutes to let go of the past,

Six minutes to breathe at last,

Five minutes to pace the carpark,

Five minutes to think of the future,

Five minutes to remember moments like this,

Four minutes to walk back inside,

Four minutes to plan out the rest of the work shift,

Three minutes to notice hums in the building, like a living being,

Three minutes to badge back in,

Three minutes to enter the break room, smell old meals,

Two minutes to look at newspaper adverts,

Two minutes to approach the time clock,

One minute to contemplate delayed decisions,

One minute to relax and post this poem.

Zero minutes, poem done!

Tried

As an experiment, over the last several months I tried to be cheerful, friendly, and helpful.

The act appear to have worked on many others.

However, I’m just as lonely, depressed and suicidal as ever.

Oh well…

I’ll just keep hiding under the false pretenses of a fairytale marriage.  That act still impresses people.  In fact, the more I tell it the less people see me!

No deus ex machina, although some have tried their darnedest to help.

A brief sketch…

Cup of hot tea, Bigelow English breakfast, brewing…

Any relation to Bigelow Aerospace?
If not, the mere thought of such links them…
Sets of states of energy in motion…
Like social media posts that link people who’ve never met…
The tea grower’s child growing up to love space and live aboard the BEAM module on the ISS…
Such fortune we find in quiet moments…
Contemplating possibilities.