Trodden

I trod under the feet of elephants. Glimpses of sun, blue sky greet my sallow face. A breath of fresh air is granted before again, I am engulfed by the massive disk of a foot. I am too small, too insignificant to change my situation. I am trapped. I feel bound in my Sisyphus like cycle. How do we overcome our surroundings? How do we strive beyond the confines of our environment?

We are the drones. Forever caught in the confines society creates for us. Albert Camus puts it perfectly: "They (the gods) had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor." How then, do we keep the world populous from diving headfirst off of cliffs?

We find meaning. We know there is a purpose. Every drone is just a piece of the puzzle. If one piece is lost, the whole picture suffers. So we wake up every day, and get walking. Under the feet of elephants. Back to rolling stones.

And with this notion, I wake up and go back to school.

On the Bright Side of Things

From reading this, you must be thinking I lead the most miserable existence. This is far from the case. My life may be stressful, and there are still things from my past and present that haunt me, I am generally not a miserable human being. The problem is, I don't feel like writing when I'm happy. Putting my thoughts and feelings to paper helps me to cope with them. Seldom do I need to cope with warm emotions.

So to brighten the mood a bit...

Things have really been looking positive. As the summer winds itself to a close, I can breath a short sigh of relief before the fall brings on its wrath. I am done with my internship, and so very close to having my license. While I don't yet have my dream job, I am finding work that I know I will enjoy. I feel so very blessed.

While decisions I have to make concerning my future loom all too near, I am very pleased with my performance this past year. While filled with its ups and downs, along with some serious personal turmoil. I made it. We all made it. And we deserve to feel proud.

At least I know what makes me happy. What makes me feel good about myself. A person can't really be more blessed than that. I have found a path that makes me feel genuinely happy. And I am following that path, wherever it may lead me. I may not have my dream job, because I may not be entirely sure what that dream job is. At least not yet. And while the stress of making those decisions is a constant pressure, at least I am enjoying the journey.

Most Days

The robot, I'm learning, is my only protection. But my robotic facade is weak. Emotion, lust, and hunger take over. The porcelain face of perfection is ripped away, and beneath it lies a demon of sex and blood. I let down my guard for one moment, and suddenly I'm throwing away everything that is decent in my life.

Most days, I don't think I'm a very good person. Most days, I think it's all my fault.

My body and my deranged sense of this world have gone and ruined another friendship. Several friendships. It has ripped apart a family, and destroyed everything in its path. I am left standing in a field of smoldering ash, The world flattened around me. And I am alone. Why do I always sabotage the things that are good? Why do I always hurt the ones I care about?

Why don't I let those whose fault it really is take the blame? As rotten as I am, I was hurt the most. I was the one left crying, vulnerable, alone.

But I forget. I'm only good for my body. Only good for one thing. After that, thrown out with the garbage. Some lame excuse. Some phony story. Why do I let this keep happening to me?

Most days, I know it's my fault. I know how to lure in a catch. But once caught, I know naught what to do but remove the hook from their mouth and set them free in the water again. I never taste cooked fish. I never even get sushi. I feel their slimy, slippery bodies and then i let them go again, my mouth watering as I watch them swim away.

Least this last trip fishing has shown me that I can, in fact, care about someone again. To like. To Like in a way that could turn into love. That's what made watching this fish swim away the hardest. Because I let myself like. I let myself care. But somewhere, there is a hint of hope. I can find that like again. Maybe one day, I wont have to watch the fish swim away.

Where is the robot when I need her?

Too Much Time and Missing Emotions

Finally, a breath of fresh air. This break has been long needed, long deserved. Yet, instead of relaxing and enjoying things, I find myself screaming to get out. This new found free time has given me the time to stop and think about what is going on in the real world, in my life. And it is terrifying. More than anything, it makes me want to never get out of bed again. There's something to be said about keeping a constant pace. Once you've slowed down to rest, it feels impossible to get started again.

I have lost all my momentum. I've lost all my motivation. When my personal life and my spiritual life is in complete shambles, what is there to get me going again? Staying busy is the only way I can keep any semblance of sanity. Because by staying busy, I am able to outrun my problems. Push everything bothersome to the back of my mind and focus on the task at hand. So now, with nothing to do, all those problems have come flooding back. And I don't seem to know how to handle them.

Things that shouldn't bother me still do. I don't know why I can't seem to get over the past. It's probably me. There are some things I still hold on to. It's to the point now I think I'm ruined. I don't know how to love. Or even like. The robot is back, and she's come with a vengeance. I have no passion, no desire, not even a feeble crush. Physically, I can find a happy medium. I enjoy being embraced by strong arms, enjoy being doted over. Enjoy a romp between the sheets. But On the emotional side? I have completely shut off. I feel nothing for anyone. I get absolutely no joy from seeing anyone at all. Even friends. Hermitage seems like a very appealing option at this point. Because human contact is a chore. Smiling, listening, engaging, interacting. It's all just too much to deal with right now.

Time for another falling off the planet episode. I need some time in peace. Maybe some solitude will help reboot the emotional center in my brain, because right now, it has fizzled out.

Time Whizz

Every new years, my resolution is simply to make the best of what comes my way, and to hope for a better year than the one before it. Barely two months in, and 2011 is already plummeting into a pit of dark, angry hell. At least its plummeting at an unnatural rate of speed. My only hope, is this black hole will spit me out somewhere a little brighter, and it will do so quickly.

I can't believe over a month of school has passed. It feels like we just began, and already, midterms are looming in the all-too-near future. It feels like time is going through an exponential time warp. Every second that passes, the next second goes by that much more quickly.

I can't say I mind that paramedic school is going whizzing by my head. Honestly, I'm thankful. School has been so rough, and we are told on a weekly basis how worthless we are, and how horribly we're doing. And all the finger pointing is one way. They refuse to listen to the majority of students needs. When they do listen, it's to the griping, self-righteous students, who due to their obnoxious and overbearing tendencies, drown out us rational ones. It's infuriating, to say the least.

I'm so over this. I'm so over everything. I can't wait for it all to end.

The Fugitive

I feel like a fugitive.
I've been on the run for so long now, I don't remember where it is I belong.
Running from my past, dodging my future, ignoring the person I'm turning into.
I just want to rest in peace at night. Even at night, the things that make me who I am haunt me in my dreams.

Perhaps I'm just lost in the middle of a post adolescent identity crisis. These are the years I'm supposed to be searching for who I am. But after everything that has happened, I fear my status on the wanted list is more serious than that. Instead of searching, I'm running away. I feel like I can't control the person I'm becoming.

Maybe this is just my fear of commitment talking. Or maybe this is where my fear of commitment came from. The chicken-verses-egg debate will get me nowhere. Instead, I've got to find an out. It's high time I preformed my disappearing act again. My friends say I "fall of the face of the planet." And it's true. I figuratively pack up and leave, and move on to new things. I show up somewhere else, start over. I can be whoever I want to be, and that alias allows me to hide from my past for that much longer.

I'm running. From the things that go bump in the night. From my past. From my future. From myself. Because I'm not quite ready to face everything. Not yet.