Are You Happy

Torment2

Stupid question.

She asked me if I was happy.

My lovely wife asked me if I was happy.

– What was your answer?

I said:  “I didn’t get married to end up divorced.”

We’re not officially divorced.  This is why I didn’t write “ex-” in front of the word “wife.”  She’s my wife.  But it’s just like if we were divorced.  I know how it feels to be divorced because I used to be.  Before I met her.  Now my second marriage has gone down the drain also.

Tabarnak <—  This is a swear word.  In the culture I was born into, this is what one says when one is pissed.  It’s the word I never dared to say when I was young because my parents would have killed me.  Good little Catholic boys NEVER say that word.

Tabarnak.  Now I say it.  I am pissed.  But I don’t know who to blame.  Me?  Her?  Life?  God?  The Universe?  Nobody.  No one.  This is just how life goes.  Life sucks.  You build, you build, you hope, you hope, you believe, you trust, then everything crumbles.

Bravo, Life!  Clap-clap, I applaud.  “Trust the Lord,” they say.  Yeah…  Right…  Sure…  I trusted.  “Love conquers all!”  Bullshit.  Caca.  Love is a deception.  Love is the sneakiest Deceptress of all time.  Love has screwed up more people than mass media and the Catholic Church combined.

And now she asks me if I’m happy.
I thought she was joking.
I looked at her.
She was serious.
She is nuts.

Yes, I am happy that I have left you.  Now if you could just disappear and stop reminding me of my past, maybe I could concentrate on my future.  And guess what?  I hope to fall in love again.  Because I’m crazy.  Just like this life and you.

The Casino Slut

I love my man
He is so naive
I know how to impress him
I’ve done it last eve
When I win he shines
When I win he nods
I have but one talent
It is to beat the odds

I know how to do this
I understand this machine
Put enough coins in it
Eventually it will sing
I have my own bank account
Does not matter how much I spend
Huge amounts are for big gamblers
I’m the mother of all winners

There goes a twenty
There goes another
If I keep inserting money
Jackpot will hit eventually
Just one more dollar
To keep the lights flashing
Keep the wheels spinning
They will stop in my favor

(Two hours later)

“Oh my god, I got it!
Two hundred and something
Honey, come and see this!
I won the bonus thing!”
How much did you put in?
“Oh, only three tokens”
Wow, you’re so lucky!
“How can you not love me…”

Evil Girlfriend

Elementals2

I will lie to him
To make him love me
If I seduce him
He will not leave me

I will rub him sweetly
To excite his body
I will control his mind
And make him marry me

Then I will be happy
Because the man I admire
The one my friends desire
Will be mine, he-he!

The passion within him
Will be given to me
I will feel extraordinary
All the time
Until eternity

Will I Live Forever

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Looking back at my life, I realize how much time I have spent trying to connect with others.  And in the end, what do I get?

I know that I am not at the end of my life yet, but let’s say that I was, that this was my last day.

I am all alone now.  Everyone I have known is going their own way.  I wonder if my presence matters.

My presence matters to me, but does it matter to the others?

Take my best friend, for example.  He was my cousin.  He was my best friend from age 10 to probably 25.  Then both of us got married and with time we stopped seeing each other, then we stopped writing and now he is nothing more than a facebook image.

We could reconnect and make our friendship meaningful again, but then we could never reconnect ever.  At this point in his life, I don’t think my presence matters to him.  And his presence does not really matter to me either.  It could be him or it could be another, but it would be nice to have a friend.

But friends don’t last forever.  Or do they?  It depends on my life.  Does my life last forever?  Will I live forever?  Will a part of me never die?

If I live forever and all the friends that I ever had live forever also, then how can I say that friends don’t last forever?

So many things depend on whether or not I live forever.  And THIS, from where I stand today, is a question of belief or faith.

From what I perceive with my five senses, death is a reality and death is the end of life as I know it.  Death of the physical body that is — deterioration of the flesh and bones.

But some say that my consciousness will remain… alive, or aware.  And there are many indications that this might be true.  But no physical proof, of course, since consciousness is not physical.

It’s funny that the Universe did not bother giving me more concrete proof of everlasting life if this is indeed my destiny.  As if it didn’t matter.  It DOES matter!  Every decision I take could and should be based on the fact that either death is the end or it’s not.

Why does Life think that it’s a good idea to keep me in the dark when it come to this question?  If my life is eternal, why does Life choose to show me that the death of my physical body means the end of me?  It seems like a very important question, but Life seems to mock me.

To Bitch or Not to Bitch

Bitch1

I feel like bitching but I don’t know what to bitch about.

To Bitch:
To criticize spitefully, often for the sake of complaining
rather than in order to have the problem corrected.

There are too many things to bitch about, I don’t know where to start.

Bitch2

I could bitch about this proverb.  No, let’s just focus on the first word.

Life.

What’s the problem with life?  Let’s talk about human life because it’s the only one I’ve experienced so far.  The problem is that it doesn’t come with an instructions manual.

I was given something that seems pretty awesome on the onset, but then after a while, everything starts to fail.  You spend your time repairing things that keep breaking.  Everything breaks down eventually, everything!

And at the end you die.

What a bitch!

Absolutely Fabulous

Fabulous

I’m a lucky man.  The neighbor envies me.  I see it in his eyes.  He wants her.  He wants my wife.  Because she’s absolutely fabulous.

My best friend is not my wife.  My best friend is the dictionary.  So, come here pal, I need you!  Open up.  Please show me.  I want to see the word Fabulous.  I need to know who I’m married to.

Fabulous:

  1. Of or relating to fable, myth or legend.
  2. Characteristic of fables; marvelous, extraordinary, incredible.
  3. Fictional or not believable; made up.
  4. Known for telling fables or falsehoods; unreliable.
  5. Very good; outstanding, wonderful.
  6. Gay or pertaining to gay people.
  7. Camp, effeminate.
  8. Fashionable, glamorous

Yep, she’s all of these things, except number 6.  She keeps saying that she’s not gay, that she loves men.  But then she’s always hanging out with her fabulous female friends.  And she treats me like crap.

Number 5 contradicts numbers 3 and 4.  How can an unbelievable, fake and unreliable person be good?  She appears wonderful, that’s for sure.

Everyone loves her.  Well that’s what she tells me.  So it must be true.  *wink*

I wonder how long she can keep up this show?

Speaking of which…  there used to be a television sitcom by this title.  I think this is where the photo comes from.  I don’t know, I just used Google Images and typed the word fabulous and this one came up.  I thought it looked a lot like my wife.

Being absolutely fabulous is not such a bad thing.  It’s better than being an asshole who posts degrading comments about his wife on WordPress.

But I use my blog to make myself feel better.  And for some reason, I feel better now that I have expressed myself.  Isn’t blogging absolutely fabulous?

Short-lived Existence

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I spent a good part of my life thinking that I would die soon.

Why?  Where did this idea come from?

Let’s take a walk down memory lane.

My father.  He would often speak about the “end of the world.”  He would read on the subject and leave his books lying around the house.  I remember one book in particular: The Vision by David Wilkerson.

Wilkerson was an American Christian evangelist.  I think I was 13 years old when I read his book The Vision.  My father was a firm believer that the Second Coming of Christ was going to happen soon and that we should therefore prepare ourselves for the afterlife and not bother making long-term plans to attain temporal success in the material world.

I was a naive, impressionable boy.  My dad’s way of thinking had a profound impact on my thinking.  I expected the end of the world to happen any day.  I thought more about my death than about my life.  I wonder how normal this was — if it was a good thing or a bad thing as I was growing up.

I know one thing.  It greatly affected my mindset.

I watched my peers as I grew up and could not understand why they were so preoccupied with the things of this world: school, money, career, prestige.  I was concerned with something quite different.  My father used to say: “The most important thing in life is your relationship with God.”  I believed him.

Today I wonder.  What am I trying to prove with my blog?  That I have a relationship with God?  Am I just trying to impress my father?  Am I trying to convince myself and others that this life is unimportant?  Maybe this life is more valuable than I think.

My father died in 2004.  The end of the world did not happen during “this generation,” as he used to say.  He was quite certain that he would live to see the Second Coming of Christ.  He didn’t.  Or maybe he did, on some other level of consciousness.  I don’t know.

Living as though the end is near…  does it push me to live fully or does it depress me?  I think it does both.  It makes me ponder, for one thing.  It makes me turn inward.  It makes me introspect.  It turns me into an introvert.  It makes me think that perhaps the end of Daemon will never come…  or that it came already.

Alienated

Unsociability3

This is not going to be a feel-good post.  I warn you.  I feel disgusted this morning and this is my attempt at getting rid of it: by dumping it on my readers.

Yeah, I can be cruel sometimes but I gave you advanced notice (see previous paragraph), so if you’re still reading it’s because you don’t mind or you’re curious or just bored.

I went to bed disgusted and woke up feeling the same way.  No, this time it’s not because of my balance disorder, it’s something else.  My relationships disgust me.  The people I am closest to, three of them especially, members of my family.

I’m attempting to distance myself from my family but I’m not there yet.  Family members are not things you can return for a refund.  You’re born with them and they stick to you for life, if not physically then emotionally or psychologically.

The first one is the woman I am currently legally married to.  Although I have declared our marriage null years ago, we are still bound because of the children.  My disgust stems from something I realized yesterday which I will summarized in one sentence:  She uses the children to impose her dominance over me.  That is all I’m going to about that.

The second person is my sister who is almost my best friend.  She keeps breaking up and getting back together with her boyfriend.  She breaks up with him practically every week!  And then she comes crying to me, so I listen.  This causes us to become really close, and then first thing you know, she’s back with the guy and then I don’t hear from her for weeks.  In other words, she only speaks to me when she breaks up with her boyfriend.  What kind of friend is that?

The third person is my other sister who told me yesterday to “stop complaining.”  Whenever I attempt at getting closer with my family, I open up and tell them how I feel, not to gain their pity, but to establish some sort of intimacy so we can offer each other mutual support.  But yesterday all I got was a “stop complaining,” which translates into “Shut the fuck up — if you can’t say anything positive then don’t say anything.”  So much for authenticity.

Anyway, thanks for listening, I just needed to vent a bit.  I’m not feeling any better yet but maybe I will later.

 

Hell on Earth

I write

My body has a small defect that greatly affects the quality of my life “in the body.”

It’s sad how such a small glitch can ruin all the fun.

It’s not something that can be fixed or cured either.

A human body is meant to move. When we look at how the body is made, it’s obvious that it was made for movement. We are not plants.

Imagine if there was a defect in your body that would cause you to feel nauseous every time you moved. My body has this defect. The more I move, the more I feel nauseated, sickened and disgusted.

In time, a person who suffers from this defect becomes severely depressed. I was on a very high dose of antidepressants for many years, but in 2012 I realized that it was not worth it. An antidepressant can relieve depression but it cannot fix the source of the problem.

The medication actually caused more problems than it solved, so finally I decided that I would rather live with my physical defect than swallow one more pill.

I’m quite healthy but I can’t say that I am happy. I have a fit body. I can technically do any physical activity I want. The problem is I don’t want to. In order to feel good, I have to move as little as possible. I’m in a very weird kind of predicament!

The defect is called a balance disorder. It’s almost impossible to notice. I sit quietly all day, refusing to do almost any kind of physical activity, and people think I’m weird and negative. My family knows, but they keep forgetting, or sometimes I get the impression that they have no idea how I feel when I move.

If you ever wondered why I live inside my head, in a fantasy world with imaginary friends, now you know. What choice do I have? I get no pleasure from physical movement. Life in my body, in this physical world, to me is hell.

When Love Lies

Man Crying

My last true love almost obliterated me.

“True” love?
It could not have been true if it almost obliterated you.

Right. But I was convinced that it was true love. I married this love. I gave my life to this love. I gave my time, my efforts, my money, my body and my soul to this love. I gave my everything to this love. I never doubted that this love was not my true love. The result was near-annihilation.

You survived.

Thanks to you.

No, thanks to you!

I was near-dead, there was nothing I could do.

That is not exactly true.

What did I do?

You turned to you.

What do mean you?

Instead of turning to self-destruction, you turned to self-love.

Hmm…

Not everyone accepts self-love.

It took me many years though. Many years of agony. And even with this “self-love,” I am still hurt. I’m damaged. I’m unrecognizable. I’m socially extinguished. I’m dysfunctional. I’m disabled. I’m handicapped. I’m useless. I’m no good. I’m incapable of loving another human being again.

It’s perhaps not as bad as it seems.

Has this “self-love” made me a more loving person? Look at me now. I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t trust humans. I almost hate them. And when I look into the mirror, I see one again. I almost hate myself. This self-love is a paradox. It doesn’t seem real. Sure, I did not kill myself, but there must be more to self-love than subsisting… and waiting… to die, so I can be with you.

You’re writing aren’t you?

All the time.

Then you’re doing something valuable. Everything you write is being recorded. You have no idea the impact that you are having on the universe.

Indeed, I have no idea. Thanks. Your words are encouraging. As always.