A part of me wishes I could write more. I wish I could share more. Not just via the written word, but in person too. In many ways, and I think I’ve said it before, this is my therapy. It’s the only way I can let any emotion out. Outside of anger that is. And Lord knows I have a lot of anger.
I honestly can’t recall a time when I wasn’t angry anymore. I’ve been angry for so long that at this point it feels like that is my default setting. In my own mind, I feel justified. I haven’t had the best of life moments. They haven’t all been bad, but it’s human nature to focus on the negative, I think. I could be wrong.
Any time I think about my anger one of the scenes that pops up in my head is from an episode of “X-Men” the animated series from the 90’s. It was the episode where Wolverine ended up in a small Alaskan town and had finally found peace. But then Sabertooth came to ruin it. Wolverine screamed that he was tired of all the fighting. He was tired of the anger. The pain. The hurt. That’s how I feel. I just want all this anger to fade away. But it doesn’t. And every day it kills me a little more inside.
I sit back and read all these articles about how people now understand mental health more. How people are advocating for it to be discussed and stories to be shared. But half the time I just think it’s bullshit. DMX just recently passed and now all of a sudden people are playing his music and calling him the GOAT. Such balderdash! Such trash! Such lies. I actually liked DMX and his music. I knew about his past. His struggles. I respected him. But now you see all these phonies come out and praise him as if they actually cared. The same exact people who made fun of Britney Spears and now are “on her side” in her mental health struggle. Such bullshit.
Here’s the truth: most people won’t ever care about something unless they actually experience it or it affects them in some way. And that goes for everything including racism, sexism, assault, hate crimes, cancer, etc. But just because you don’t understand something doesn’t mean you can’t be there for someone.
Being there for someone is hard. Especially the rougher a person is dealing with someone. It can be draining. Worse, it can be even more draining when so many people depend on you. People often forget that we all break down or need a little maintenance from time to time. And sometimes we go to the wrong mechanic. We think a person can do the job and fix things, but they just don’t have the tools for it. Or even worse they don’t care.
When someone doesn’t care or makes it look like they don’t care, man that’s rough. For me, I just really need a break. A real, honest, break. I think back to that episode of “X-Men” and envy Wolverine. He just woke up and left. I’ve always wanted to do that. Just leave all of this behind. I don’t feel comfortable most places or with most people. I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of being called crazy. And I’m tired of people thinking it’s cute to do it. It’s partially why I keep getting angry. The circle of life, no?
All day I’ve had that Elton John song “That’s Why They Call It the Blues” stuck in my head. And of course, it’s just the chorus. I know they lyrics and story, but the chorus is all that matters. Maybe I’m just sadder than normal lately. Who can even tell at this point? I feel like Eeyore but can’t express myself properly. Even with this blog, few people actually read it. Less people care. Gone are all the people who claimed they would read anything I wrote because I had a way with words. Do I even? I’ve never dared call myself a writer. Much less an artist, but sometimes in the middle of the night, when no one is reading I say: “Not bad”.
A part of me hopes that people like what I write. And another part hopes someone else can find some comfort in what I say. Mostly, I just stopped giving a damn. Everyone is too busy. Too happy. Who wants to bother with an old dog like me anyhow? I haven’t looked at my reflection in a while. When I do catch a glimpse I quickly turn away. After all this time, I still hate my stinking guts. But I’m trying. Some days are better. Most aren’t.
It’s funny because as I write this the voice in my head constantly changes. But it is usually low and growly. Just the way I like it. I have so many thoughts going on at once that I hope that when it’s all said and done people have some sort of idea where I’m coming from.
There was a really great Roddy Piper biography on A&E recently. And one of the things that stuck out to me was how Roddy was described as never being able to escape his demons. Those pieces of trauma we suffer early in life that makes it tough for us to go with our daily lives. I’ve spoken to a lot of people about their trauma. Their pain. And as much as it saddens me, what saddens me more is how some are unwilling to fight for their lives. By writing this blog I am trying to fight and better myself. By writing these stories I hope to grow. By writing these stories I hope to find peace. Maybe then I’ll actually be able to relate to normal humans. Maybe.