I can’t wait...
...to take my last breath.
I'll ask for forgiveness first of course. I'm hoping the Lord let's me in the gate, even if it's the side gate. All sin is sin, my heart is stone, but I hope the Lord saw that there was a time when I gave Him all I could. I hope He doesn't forget me even after I kept screwing up...over and over and over again.
I hope He remembers me.
Until then I'll let life take me where it takes me. I've lost all agency. I'm not mentally or motivationally equipped to thrive, I know, "It's not the hand you're dealt it's how you play your cards," and all of that, but what happens when you literally are incapable of visualizing a world where your achievements are anything more than "meh"?
It's like there's this wall I can't break through...this wall of doubt and fear that says whatever I attempt is destined to fail and make a fool out of me. It glares down at me everytime an opportunity arises. You know, a chance to take the unexpected road and show what I can do.
It scoffs and laughs, "You know you're gonna @#$% that up right? Come on, stop playing yourself: you're a lazy, slow a$%-hat stop play-acting like you some kinda hero. Get the #$&! outta here, God knows you suck too, that's why you don't hear His voice anymore: He done up and left, He gave up: too busy attending to his real kids, the true believers, the move-makers. He ain't got time for a nobody. He lied. He will leave you and He will forsake you, He left His OWN SON to suffer on the cross. How the hell do you think He'll piss away time waiting for you to get a clue? Wake up fool, get moving or get out the way...move @%#$^ get out the way, get out the way #,$%&, get out the way!"
Bladdie wall.
Each time there's an opportunity to do a good thing, my icebox heart makes the wrong choice, the anxiety wells up and the cooler box in my chest makes another excuse and shows my true colours. I'm just a dirty, rotten scoundrel who really just wants people to think well of me without me actually having done anything to earn that respect. What I'm doing isn't good enough, it never was and will never be. I could really give this thing a go, step out of my comfort zone and try! I really could you know, give living the old, "college try!" I just can't see how I'll manage to do that consistently, day in and day out. It's exhausting and feels disingenuous like who am I kidding right? It's just a matter of time before they figure out that I don't really care and that I'm a selfish psycho anyway - I do good sometimes just to give the impression of care, but fail to keep it up. Even my sadness isn't consistent, overall maybe, but day-to-day: some days I'm downright joyful and awesome to be around (possibly only when with my fam or close cousins)! The rest of the time......eish.
There is a sliver of something that makes me think, "Man, I know in another universe if I didn't hate myself maybe I could've been something. Maybe. I could've been a...........[ insert embarrassing dream here too embarrassing to share even with you ], brave and forgiving....forgiving of others and myself."
Anyway, that's a dream for another life.
Thanks for listening distant angels of the sweet interwebs. It's been real and a rollercoaster journey. If something good does come of the years I have left to live then this 8-year long blog detailing my wilderness experience will be a time capsule testimony to it and if Tumblr and the web in this form still exists in the future: best believe I'll direct unbelievers right to here. I'm talking especially to the young / old and afraid, the anxious and the lonely, the self-loathers and the hopeless: if you were directed here by me, there's hope friend. If you weren't: I'm either long dead or living a small, anonymous life somewhere out there in the ether.
Like I've heard so often said in films or shows I've seen: I write to have some record that I was here, that I existed and that I died as that will probably be the only legacy I leave behind. Sometimes people don't live extraordinary lives, but memories of who they were and traces of their personality or spirit live on in the stories, bodies and minds of their kin / offspring. What will be said of mine other than I was here and then I was no more?
Time for this mixed up South African male to say, "Peace out," for the last time.
Hope to catch you in the upper room some day.
Be well friend,
From the guy who never grasped how to love or be loved.











