Gosh darn it I will continue to think. It’s a burden don’t you know. Still I’m continuing my plan to write stuff in a feeble attempt to quiet the soft sobbing from my teenage self buried somewhere in the dark pit of my soul. OK, not soul I’m an atheist, but I can’t spell psyche (the accents keep dropping off) so I’ll go with soul.
Anyway I’m sort of approaching 40, not really fast it’s over a year away but at my age you can sleep through that without noticing. OK it’s called, having a day job and paying the bills, but it’s functionally similar to sleeping so I’ll go with that. With the oncoming storm on the way I’ve been looking at my life and laughing the maniacal laugh of someone who has reached the edge of the pit of sanity, you laugh because crying seems too easy.
Lets start that again shall we, the bleak is getting a bit too strong, last night I wrote some words. Feel free to go read them. I mentioned that I learned two things in school. The second thing I learned is that Authority cares nothing for you. Those that are supposed to protect you couldn’t care less and if you spoke up you would be punished. I probably wasn’t supposed to learn this but I did. It’s kind of fueled my world view since, and made me into the sniveling worm that now graces the world.
You see I have this fear of Authority, which is basically how it’s supposed to work. You don’t commit crimes because you’re afraid you’ll get caught and hurt. Not locked up, that does frighten me, it’s the beatings. As I am an old person they were still allowed to use corporal punishment in school when I was there and I now have a certain level of belief that I’ll getting beaten up if I do things wrongs. Add to this my general dislike of cool people it’s a wonder I’ve managed to survive this long really.
Where was I going with this? Oh yeah. I’m not who I wanted to be, mainly because I’ve been waiting to get permission to do what I wanted. And by the time I worked out that’s not how it works,that you have to go out and grab it I was so stuck into a rut (and buried there with a pile of debt) that I was screwed. In my heart, or the tortured soul where the sobbing comes from, I’m a writer. I like words and I like stringing them together to paint pictures in your mind. Maybe not nice pictures, but the world isn’t a nice place.
I’m trying to exorcise some of this, there’s a lot of it but I hope I can get it sorted. Maybe make it less rambling. Stranger things have happened.