A Fish in the Sea

fish1

How can I make it happen
If I don’t know what I need
If this planet was an ocean
I’d probably be a seaweed

I ran away from a 17-year relationship
As big and as beautiful as the Titanic
But we hit something as cold as the Arctic
And my world went down like a sinking ship

Now I’m broken and lonely
I can’t swallow my spaghetti

I sit in my apartment like an old jerk
Feeling as worthless as an office clerk
Wishing I could connect with someone new
A man, a woman, maybe even you

I feel ugly, I feel sad
My mind is empty and mad

I’m wondering about this dating site
Maybe this is how I can take flight
But what would I write in my profile
“I’m no pervert and no pedophile”

I want to turn around
Bury myself underground

I want to project something real
Find someone who will help me heal
But who wants to date a damaged man
All I need is a patient helping hand

Fuck I don’t even know what I want
I feel more lost than a teenage debutante

There’s a site called Plenty of Fish
Perhaps it can fulfill my wish
Might not be as hot as Florida
But it’s free and popular in Canada

 

Cherophobia

Cherry1

No, it’s not the fear of cherries, but the fear of happiness.

I think I might be suffering from this a little bit.

After coming out, feeling ready, willing and able and tumbling, I realized that there is a deep-rooted uneasiness within me when it comes to potential pleasure or happiness.

I think I know exactly where it comes from.

Whenever I experienced great happiness in the past, it always seemed to be followed by great despair.  So I have developed this strange belief that in order to avoid heartbreak, I must avoid being happy.

The result is depression.  A self-inflicted condition due to a state of mind.

I am just becoming aware of this now.  It’s quite disturbing.  I’m not sure what to do.

Whenever I realize something, I write it down.  This is how I give it a form and shape.  I find it easier to tackle after it becomes visible, observable and describable.

Cherophobia:  aversion to happiness.  There is some of it within me.

I’m sure the universe will take care of it.  If this is something that should be kicked out of my belief system, then let the butt-kicker step forward.  I welcome him.  Or her…

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 Mystic

Balance3

Today I’m wondering if too much spirituality can cause a balance disorder.

Ok, I hear an imaginary crowd of people yelling a resounding, unanimous answer:  “YES!”

Thank you, imaginary unanimous crowd of answering people.  But what if I told you that you are all a bunch of misled materialistic slaves?

Now they are all silent and staring at me.  One of them steps forward and says politely:  “Maybe we are, but you are the one with the balance disorder.”

Bam!

When I think of a guy who clings to spirituality above everything else, I think of an idiot who is trying to fly with man-made wings.  I think of Wile E. Coyote.  Is this what I have become?  What will happen next?

Never mind.

Maybe I should concentrate on being a man instead of trying to be a bird.  But what about my aspirations?

I’m not very good at being human.  I’ve tried it.  I keep failing.

Where are you, italicized dude?  You’re not answering me today?

– I’m here.

So what do you say, am I too spiritual?

– Maybe you want to be a mystic.

A Mystic:  Someone who practices mysticism.

Mysticism:  Becoming one with God or the Absolute, but may refer to any kind of ecstasy or altered state of consciousness which is given a religious or spiritual meaning.  It may also refer to the attainment of insight in ultimate or hidden truths, and to human transformation supported by various practices or experiences.

Yes, I think I want to be a mystic.  But what about my balance disorder?

– What about it?

If I would stop aspiring to become a great mystic, would I be miraculously cured of my balance disorder?

– I don’t know.  You would have to try it.

Hmm…  I did stop being one with You at one point.  Remember what happened?  I became extremely depressed and ended up in a psychiatric hospital.  So perhaps I was meant to be a mystic.

– Then you must accept the balance disorder.

Thank you.

Thickheaded Control-Freak

A wrongdoer manipulated my life, like an abuser experimenting with a youngster.  He turned me into a wild animal.  I’m the product of someone’s playful mischief.  Aren’t we all?

My body is a defective vessel — a vehicle which will expire.  Something or hopefully someone will come out of it alive.  A different dummy shall step out of it and face a new reality.

But right now, what am I to do?  Be gloomy?  How can I not be.  I’m this weird creature, controlled by even weirder ones.  There is no way out.  Or is there?  I must wait for the metamorphosis to occur.  I wish the process would accelerate.  Is suicide the answer?

Is killing my body unnatural?  So many do it.  Has it become the norm yet?  We all do it gradually.  Life does it naturally.  I can make myself sick physically.  It’s easy.  But I stubbornly keep my body healthy.  Why?  Maybe because it hurts when I don’t.

But now my soul hurts.  Is it better to have a hurting spirit?  Having to drag this body along is painful.  And when it dies, what kind of body will I be given?  Who will decide?  Maybe I will be able to choose.  My angel said he could shapeshift.  Wow!

I can’t wait to have a shapeshifting body.

My dominant plays god.  That’s what he does.  My evolution would happen naturally if only he would let it be.  But he wants to play divinity.  Prick.  And I’m stuck under his authority for a while.  Like I have a say in what I let my children do.  But kids grow, and sooner or later we lose our authority over them.  It’s a liberation process.  How long will this go on regarding this Daemon?  Does it depend on me or on him?

I am enduring but not so patient.  Let go of me, bitch!

So I ended up here, in this environment.  But still, he has a hold on me.

Let go already, thickheaded control-freak!

Deadlocked

Hell1

I lost my liberty
Who will rescue me
I wonder what will happen
If any door will open

This day is going to be
The same as yesterday
Unbearable melancholy
Unless I find a key

There’s a reason why I’m here
“It’s your fault” he told me
I wanted to be free
So he locked me in here

At first I had no idea
What was going on
I thought something
Had gone wrong

Now he’s watching me
Wondering what I’ll do
I can’t even see him
He blindfolded me

I know he’s near me
I hear him inhaling
I hear him exhaling
He won’t talk to me

It excites him to watch me
I feel naked and empty
I think my vulnerability
Is what he wants to see

He enjoys it
He delights in it
He touches it
I don’t get it

He won’t whip me
He protects me
He comes closer
Then he kisses me

I shiver and wonder
Does he heal or make me suffer
He could hurt me badly
But he seems to know better

I wish he would slay me
But it is very unlikely
I need to figure out
What love is all about