December 9th pt. II

Okay, the truth of the matter is… yes, I started writing at work. The prayer really doesn’t have anywhere to go. I tried to work on an expand the movie theater one, but the main reason I am not writing an haiku and then watching a DVD is because my friend wants me to submit some writing. So now I have a deadline and I need something not entirely terrible written - and then I have to fix it to make it better. So the pressure is on.

Mid-Life Crisis

“I know how to tighten the cold hard fist of my heart. I don’t remember how to open it.” - LMJ

I’ve been telling this little joke to myself while trying not to talk to anyone, ‘the thing nobody tells you about your 30s is they start in the middle of a global pandemic and, shortly after, the President of the United States of America and many members of the Republican Party attempt to stage a coup.’ I didn’t say the joke was funny.

It gets harder every day to live the life I know I should. Like Uncle JImmy said, “you can’t tell the children there’s no hope,” but I never developed much of a poker face and while my lips aren’t the loosest, they aren’t guaranteed to keep ships afloat. I spent my 20s trying to drink myself to death or maybe I’ve become a historical revisionist because being suicidal is at least an explanation if not an excuse for my bad behavior.

Time somehow drags on excruciatingly slow while simultaneously slipping through my fingers and if I stop and think about it too long I think I already missed whatever train I was intended to board to go anywhere. I’ve made many acquaintance, but my desire to keep anyone around wasn’t as strong as the need to keep a safe distance. Or maybe that’s my revisionism again, who’s to say it was up to me whether they stuck around?

I want to be more kind, to be a better person, but I’d rather not have people bothering. When I was younger and short and not particularly adept at sports or any sort of lothario, I wanted so much to be tough. But as I age and watch myself hurt people almost as if its second nature, I wish I hadn’t tried so hard for so long to be this side of the binary. There’s that revisionism again: I’ve never tried hard at anything.

Still, the shame and wondering why I was occasionally the butt of a joke here or there set me on this course. Did you ever look around at the group you’re in and wonder how everyone got their roles because you never agreed to the part you’re playing?

I wanted to be a writer back when I was in high school. Now I’m far too lazy to put in the work. But at the time, I was too ashamed. I feared vulnerability. I still do. But I still want what is forbidden. But then the gears in my skull start turning and like some fucked up distortion of a chess prodigy, I think three steps ahead and change my mind.