Out of all but thought

To simplify another person to basic formats says more about yourself than the other person. Someone who lives by the law of labels and simplified views of what it means to be human has restricted their understanding of themselves to these labels and narrowed views as well. They believe in reaching bench marks of understanding the world and others by lessening their apathy towards new labels, if at all, to still be caught in a stream of common thoughts that have been repeated tedious and insanely by those around them. They then mark their shirts with symbols and words trademarked by people more liquid than themselves. Their steps quake the floor with nothing more than ego for they are the "forward thinkers", those who are so forward that they are still latching onto the the thoughts of others. . . others; those who quench the desperation for what? Simply to not feel alone and to feel better about themselves for the day or week. Odd considering it's those they idolized who made them feel so alone in the first place. "You must be stronger            more unique      beautiful? No, astounding                     your words must captivate those around you as if you were the cold drink of water and the world was dying of thirst!” If not then what? Were you nothing all along? As if being average, flawed, normal, or human made you less of a person. I was called mad once and yet I step out the door to watch people drooling while they neurotically scream the words of other men who endgame never gave two shits about them in the first place. I turn on the television to watch Hollywood pitch out garbage which hardly evolved past a first graders fart jokes, and it does well. Well enough to fund your future idols onslaught of words that they stole from better men who lived centuries ago. They’ll take the credit all the same. To your credit though, at least you learned how to sympathize with a new label this year. As narrow minded as you still are, at least you haven’t limited yourself quite so much.

I was thinking about perspectives on the passage of time and realized something; The nature of life, mathematically, is acceleration towards death. The exception to this is if you have no long-term memory in which case you live a perceptual longer life than all others but without knowing any of it.

Sometimes I feel like I'm encountering the same person over and over again. Each time they wear a different face and provide tell-all stories of grandeur attesting to how unique they are (no matter if I inquired to hear it or not). Yet at the core is the same person I spoke with an hour ago. Each person seems nearly obsessed with grabbing those around them by the shoulders-- To shake strangers violently while screaming that they are unique and important. Maybe the important part is not that you are a separate person, but rather that we are nearly the same? I won't claim that each path/person is equal because some are more horrific and others more bountiful, but the same core remains. Children; Scared and imaginative; Brave and lonely; Foolish and resourceful, children.

When provided raw factual information without bias it will not fix you nor your perspective. Even in knowing, you must accept these truths as not just a facet to someone else's reality but as the cold ground of your own. You must realize that no matter your own path and despite the distractions ahead that there is only one reality. It doesn’t matter if you have passed by these facts for so many years as, whether you recognized the ground you tread upon or not, it’s composition has remained. The ground does not exist to spite nor judge you. It simply exists. You can not shape this bit of Earth nor can the others who tread it-- no matter their attempts to convince otherwise. Are you still hallucinating with me? Does brick rise to carry you upwards? As you slip into delusion and climb stairs, do your ankles hurt climbing imaginary steps? You stand on the ground, my friend. I see you searching for purpose. Your purpose is the same as the purpose of the ground. You exist in sake of existence. Are you still delirious with me? I am no more complex than the ground that we stumble along. Do not impress more upon me for the ground must be filled with an entropic complexity on it’s own, right? --For so many fail to grasp the very concept of it. There’s a beauty that you fail to acknowledge here. A beauty of contradiction, flaw, and unreasonable simplicity resulting in a conglomerate of multifarious fractured conciousness. Let’s exist as an internalized fabrication instead. I’ll be an iron golem and you can be stone. You raise mountains and I’ll light each star with timber. A billion lanterns to ready the night.

Is it weird to invent an absent character in a story to console the other characters because you as the author want to console them as their lives fall apart? This book will probably never mean anything to others but I've fallen in love with the characters. I feel horrible because of all of the things that I do to them. It's like telling your children to line up blindfolded so you can shoot them one by one. You kiss their foreheads and say "It'll be okay. Don't worry about that sound. Now hold still."

I’m supposed to show strength. It’s expected. I’m scared. The years passing had never eased the path. A veteran in any field learns and their expression ceases to show surprise for the horrific moments that come to pass. We know what it is to live on this side of life and our feet learn to carry forward. Call this courage or strength, but the fear is still there. In fact it gets worse as you know that nightmares are real and they sit dormant in all of men and neighbors. They are not extremists, psychopaths, or warlords any more than the people who you will share dinner with come next thanksgiving. These horrific acts can and will be carried out by people who love, dance, and breath. People who will justify their movements to be angelic no matter the malice involved. Malice being the wrong word... But many of them will laugh as they take part regardless. There is a dormant smile on every face poised for the opportune moments of taking life. I’m supposed to socialize. We take note and collect the expressions that are contrary to their words. It’s expected that you don’t point out what they’re thinking. They’re delicate in that way. They have balanced this lie upon the tip of their noses. So well tempered. Well woven in every adopted stance and value. Do not direct their gaze towards their own souls. You must watch them twitch out their smiles and dance with their lies. If you calmly talk truth their balancing act may fail at which point they’ll think themselves as warlords. I must socialize with each person, them being the barrel of a cannon-- An off tempered, delicate, ignorant and yet explosive fool. But smile for the muzzle, it flashes as it takes your picture. Before you complain about insomnia 214,620 approximate hours I have been awake the same amount of time as the average person about to turn 37. Making this the mark of a different type of birthday. 9 years of my waking life have now been spent exclusively in solitude with my primary insomnia. So tonight I’ll celebrate by drowning myself in a cocktail of nicotine, vodka, and a bit of light tranquilizers. On this insomnibration I’d like to thank my family for the repetitive lines of “you think to much”. Your grand advice has been so helpful. Give me a bit longer and my waking life will be longer then yours. I look forward to being older than you so I can give you more of my advice instead.

Out of all the risks I take and for the amount of times that my life has been in jeopardy, it’s the points when I visit family in NY that I feel like I'm gazing into the eyes of death. When having guns pointed at me I’ve laughed. When carrying the dead out of hospitals to their final resting places I nearly felt at peace. Yet each night before heading to upstate NY, I feel fear soak into my bone marrow without discernible cause or active worry. To be nauseated at the prospect of having family at my side. . . You’d think with all that has happened I would have either bound or calloused to any possibilities that lay ahead in these matters. I feel like I'm laying parallel along top of the teeth of an untamed monster-- one not unsure but eager to clench down upon my flesh. Will it be the pain, the pop of my flesh as it punctures, or the crushing of my bones that will make me cringe the most? It is expected of me to lay upon teeth. It is expected to stay quiet. A once a year endeavour. How I long to tear apart your stupidity with such simple words to leave your feet kicking for a change. . . Although doubtful a monster would flinch when you stand within it’s den. I should lure it out to the fields.

For every time you asked me what was wrong I bit my tongue ten times. For every time you held a sad look I said I love you twenty times. With every trauma that befell you I stood at your door to scream on behalf of you. For every year I knew you came a count of a hundred lies. For every time I forgave you came a new person behind my eyes. It was first love that taught me love should not be romanticized. Love thereafter would be honest and brutally so. Such is a love you could not handle. You are fragile and break under truth's tensions. I am no ones prince nor anyone's hero. To manage someone else's love for them --For you to play simple girl and I your guardian? Such is not love but a game of a sociopath head spun with tales. Only two people with strong character will manage a strong love. The rest will exist nothing past stories written by the neurotic and stupid. Painting smiles to flesh with but a child's grasp on perspective. Let those sideways smirks laugh as they tell their 'love-war stories'. Drunk veterans of romance boasting on kills and showing beloved scars.

I've watched as our soldiers played hide and seek with children over seas. The children with parents hid and the soldiers laughed as their bullets found them on that dark desert landscape. I was angry for years, but my anger/words changed nothing other than myself. I watched as police sat in their car while men beat a girl to death on our own soil. I called the cops for years , but calling on others to fix problems changed nothing other than myself. I saw a man beating a woman on a crowded Chicago train during rush hour. I glanced around at the passengers who were doing nothing. I punched the guy in the face and I pulled out my skinning knife. All of the women on the train stood up and took to beating the man that lay on the ground then threw him to the platform at the next stop. I did something and hopefully sparked a change in more than a few people around me. Surely at least one though. Don't get angry. The anger will not change them. Don't grow afraid. Fear will not stop them. Don't call the cops. The cops are as afraid as the rest. Calmly attack those that you must. Violence really is often the answer when it comes to saving lives. When we fail to take this action we gain only debt against ourselves that is nearly impossible to pay back.

My body rose as he pinned me against the wall with one hand. My body weight and the strength of his hand against my throat. "I'm going to kick the living shit out of you." The stench of cigars and bud light irradiated from the man. My mother cried and screamed at her husband to stop to which he only pushed down harder on my throat. The lawn mower was broken and I couldn't do the lawn that day due to it. I began to lift on his arm to alleviate some of my own weight from the pressure just slightly. Just enough so the drunk foreigner to my home could hear my response, as raspy as it would be. The first few sounds from me came as gags. He loosened slightly to hear my words, but they were not words at all. As he started to lift away he gave room for my laughter to escape. His hand moved from my throat to grasp my shirt with his left hand and readied the right one with a fist. At full height of the arms backwards draw words emerged from my laughter. "Do it, please. Because you wont kill me." I smiled at the man saying this. His anger had a small spark of confusion. My laughter continued. "I'm going to kick the shit out of you. Not kill you." My laughter died as my face fell to a unwavering and more calm smile. "But I'm going to kill you. So do it but know the consequences if you ever hit me or anyone else in this family ever again." "You're going to kill me?!" He forced a laugh to this but I could see his nerves fall out of place in his eyes. "I don't have to beat you in a fist fight to be privileged in watching you burn alive or as your guts spill to the floor. I" "--STOP IT!" My mother interrupted me. Her expression had grown even more horrified than it was before as she watched me. "Ken let him go!" "He's not going to kill me!" The douche bag replied. "He will, Ken. Stop this now!" "I'm not here for an argument with you. You have the temper of a little bastard child and so I'll treat you like one. Hit me and there will be consequences. No more authorities that do nothing. No more talking. I'm going to kill you, Ken." The laughter came as a low rumble as I spoke the next words, "And I'm going to laugh the whole time as you bleed and scream." "Let him go!" Screamed my mother once more. I was still a kid, but I was no longer the little six year old he could knock across the room. She had never seen me like this but she knew that not one of my words were a lie. Ken lowered his arms and he set me down. He brought himself close to me like a dog trying to assert his dominance still which caused me to once more break into laughter. I moved out of the house as soon as I was old enough and skipped state. Even years later I held the plan to return and finally kill him. I lived out of state, moved on, and had no reason to come back for him. That was the exact point that I would though. A few months before my planned return my mother left him. A week later he was hospitalized for an issue with his gull bladder. He was fired from his job at an international medical company and started to fall behind on bills.The man's actual children sent an email to me apologizing for having to put up with their father. All of his friends and family were distancing themselves from him like the toxin that he was. I thought about this and realized that he was growing into a hell far worse than he had lived before. It would be better for him to carry on through this hell and I would not end it for him. Everyone had tried but no one could change this man away from the bastard that he was. I thought about this and for the first time felt satisfied and even a small amount of pity. A very small amount. Now it's been 10 years since I left. I hear that you cry often now. I hear that everyone knows who you are now. I hear that you are always alone with your drunken stupor now. May you live for a very long time. I hope that when you do die that it's slow and painful. I hope no one is there in the end to hear your last words.

I looked up abruptly. I had briefly forgotten that I existed; it was nice while it lasted. "What I'm saying is that logic and facts interpreted through and built upon independent thought should hold the reins in a debate, not opinions. I would rather be lost forever among a few simple truths than to always know where I am while standing on a platform made of lies.” My words had become a monotone droning of consciousness as my line of sight returned to the table briefly. My mind was no longer present in the conversation and I was unsure if the words escaping were still making sense. I thought for a moment. Letting out a large sigh I then confirmed the realization that I did in fact still exist.

We grow most profoundly and are defined in the midst of our failures/lows, not our successes. The unstoppable giant who gains momentum will have no reason to question the deeper significance of the footprints he impresses behind him. Successful men once halted will often find depression and decades of internal conflict waiting for them-- to an unbearable extent since this will be a mountain they wont be used to climbing. Meanwhile to the minds of the long-term 'depressed' or 'deeply introverted', external success feeds little to no internal reward. Internal revelations are the only reward. They will have climbed those mountains a hundred times over. Both the giant and the introvert will push/stress twice as necessary on simple tasks to keep moving forward. To both should envy those who will balance a well paced mind while keeping a straight head.

I remember the first time I saw Rocky Horror Picture Show. I was 12 and in a hospital bed. Tubes hung from my torso as toxins were pumped from my body and a cocktail of medicines pumped in. In my drug induced delirium, that was one of the most horrific movie I had ever seen on first view. I was certain that a message was being sent to that dimly lit room and the message was that monsters in fishnets were coming to kill me within the hour. Luckily the movie ended and no horned creatures in stockings killed me that night. I told my father about the scariest horror movie ever created that next morning, but he didn't agree with my review. To what seems like a random tangent, the concept of karma often arises when I suggest for someone to take revenge on those who wrong them. How often do you witness karma take place that was not initiated at the hand of someone? Karma is consequence to action but if you refrain to carrying out reasonable consequence then you withdraw the rights of karma to take place in the name of 'being the bigger person'. Natural balance doesn't exist in a human environment when population is high. Balance is lost in the name of choice, desire/greed, and limited resource. Where this ties in? I've been through more surgeries than I can count and while appearing normal, my face has been reconstructed through grafts and implants. Medical insurance guidelines (even still as they are today) basically state that having a face and jaw so that you can live and eat is "cosmetic". So all surgeries came as mountains of debt instead. For all of the "charities" and "programs" out there, not one was willing to help. This started as a child and it's only one attribute to one segment to my life. Let alone I came out of it okay but there are many others that aren't as lucky. So, where is karma/balance(s) place to intervene in your opinion? I'm livid when people try to talk about karma/balance as a stand alone entity. The only intervention in problems is that which you chose to take. Those who have watched police brutalize friends while standing there and video taping... You people should feel really fucked up about yourselves. You trust government officials (the very government that's killing someone in front of you) to give those officers their consequence? Do you think 'karma' will come for them? Do you think your video will inspire revolt? It couldn't inspire you to revolt/fight and you were standing right there as it happened. It's not a belief or opinion when there's evidence to back it up. It becomes fact that the populace of the US is simply too weak/scared to stand up for themselves. You cry about unjust wars, but you're too afraid to fight a just one. To then move to those puss filled hearts here on tumblr who claim to be activists. Half the time you preach understanding while you refuse to take initiative to educate and think for yourselves. You talk with hollow words from stances of falsified grandeur. Your stances/beliefs are all bullshit when you refuse to fight for anything. In the name of 'being a bigger person' you become nothing past children crying together. You even go as far to demand respectful/understanding speech to one another because you believe that everyone deserves it as a birthright. The few that are willing to verbally take stance in aggression are seemingly always still just idiots without action. Now I've almost grown off into an actual tangent from the main point. Moving back; Karma doesn't exist. You're actions and actual fight to correct wrongs will be the only intervention that will ever occur. If you are unwilling to fight and remain pacified/scared when situations grow to critical mass then you have effectively voided any meaning to your opinions/thoughts/feelings. Whether this is someone committing murder in front of you or something to a lesser extent. Consequence to fit the act must be carried out.

If you were to be enlightened or provided proof to the reason of life, would you want it? If you could be gifted with a genius' intellect, would you accept it? No one would want to hear the answers that you'd provide. The ignorant would become combative and a battle with ignorance can't be won. The foolish would see you as condescending once hearing a few words they don't know the meaning of, or a concept that isn't at a pre-school level. Did you know that nearly every elective lobotomy carried out was on a famous author? Intelligence coupled with observation of society is a very scary thing.