Impotence sneaks it gangly teeth into my mouth whenever I try to describe how my adoration for this life has transformed an occasional dull aching into a living, breathing creature that mercilessly grabs at my heart, squeezing it with all its might, leaving me short of the very breath that keeps me alive.

I only want to soak in all I can, tucking every experience inside me so deeply that it will wrap its glow around me, comforting this discontent soul. But, in recompense for that desire, the days slip past more quickly than my wildest imaginings thought possible. No matter how much each moment is everything I ever dreamed it to be, it’s never enough to quench even a flicker of this radiance that threatens to swallow my every waking moment. These butterflies have transformed, and what was a dull poking at my soul, has become a demon that begs my complete attention. It wakes, rumbles, grumbles, and has but a singular dream; to rid me of this rickety frame.

My thoughts are strewn with visions studded with prickly barbs promising salvation, but delivering only a wetness and warmth that soon grows cold and sticky. Smashing this throbbing noggin’ against the cement would only barely scratch the itchiest of protuberances, while assuring this hopeful fool that all I wish for is close at hand.

We all want something extraordinary to happen in our lives.

And me; I’ve always been able to find solace in my day, whether it’s through obsessing over work or music or love or artâ?¦but now, this demon is piercing through the veil, seeping into the places it could previously find no quarter. Not only did I believe it impossible for anything but my bliss to be with me in that place, I never considered what my world would be like if there ever came a time when that simple fact wasn’t true.

But now, there isn’t even the thinnest illusion of solace.

Drugs or alcohol provided me with the thickest and fuzziest of blankets, but this demon cares nothing of the tricks that granted me my peace; tricks that allowed me to feel as though the world around me had meaning and hope.

I have my dream, yet each moment now takes a lifetime to pass, as every shred of energy I possess is now spent trying to calm this behemoth that has risen up inside me. And for what? ‘ For knowing, intimately, the luscious treats that love to dig their craggy fingers straight into my veins. For opening my mind to the sheer, utter profundity that can be had within these flesh bags, these boney sacks that encase the intelligence of millions of years of Darwinian expertise. For wanting, simply wanting to know what it truly means to be awake and alive.

So, I ask myself how 200,000,000 can people be wrong. Maybe Jesus really did rise from the dead after his dad created the world in seven days, and maybe I will go to Hell if I don’t simply acknowledge the fact that I am powerless and worthless before this god who damns his own people to eternal damnation for being the very things He created them to be; human. After all, what do I know other than this demon who is envious beyond compare, who wants nothing less than complete obliteration of all that I hold dear in this frame and this world?

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1 Comment

  • Mark
    February 21, 2008 at 4:21 pm 

    When life gets as complicated as you note, there is only one thing to do: Hit a large bucket of balls at the driving range. Have fun.

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