• Nobody will read this, pt. 3 …




    The life given to us by nature is short but the memory of a life well-spent is eternal." –Cicero

    My life is replete with left turns, this I know to be the one constant. Doors always open in front of me, without doubt, but often there is no guarantee that they lead anywhere. Sometimes, the ones behind me stay open long enough to see back through and catch a short glimpse of the past. Some days, that’s the only solace.

    I’ll be honest here and tell you that my days are slow, monotonous, dull and very uninspired. The weather is pretty much a duplication of the day previous. The people I see all keep engaging in the same routines with me that they did the day before. The girl at McDonald’s always smiles at me when she hands me back my change. Further ahead in the drive through, the manager, hands me my small coffee with four sugars and my Number 2 meal, but never smiles. She looks as though she’s either in pain from intense lower back pain or sciatica – take your pick. Most days my diseased mind tells me that she’s just unhappy to see me one more time. I drive forward, sit in the parking lot and listen to NPR for about thirty minutes; sometimes making notes in my journal or preparing myself for my morning stroll through Kohl’s.

    Yes, it is this door that continually leads nowhere if you haven’t already guessed. It’s on days like these that I get some very clear images through the doors behind. It’s always a good thing I take notes, too. I can see whole days and still hear entire conversations that I’ve had with people I haven’t spoken with in years. I doubt they think on me in such terms. I’ve had a habit, for at least the last fifteen years of telling myself to take mental pictures of the people that I’m talking with during conversation. Almost as a back-channel command. The results of doing this are actually quite alarming as having lucid images of people is a good thing. Especially on the lonelier, quieter days – and there are many. Friends to speak of? None. People that care enough to be concerned? Nil. My thoughts are really my closest companions.

    Other left turns that define my daytime seem to be few and far between, but even as minor as they are, they have a tendency to stand out as tall on the horizon as the Coit Tower near Washington Square in San Francisco. Recently I sold one of my books, which again, will probably change a great deal in my life. But in truth, maybe it won't. Will I one day look back on all this as completely strange and foreign and ask myself: what the hell was I doing living in Palm Desert? Will my life in twelve months be so different from today, that I won’t understand where I’m going and how things changed -- and thus feel the exact same way I do today? Hard to say, regarding where my life will be, but I know I’ll probably still feel the pains I have today regarding my personal life. I doubt much will be different. Constancy is the hobgoblin of time. Who said that? I forget.

    My path ahead never looks clear, it always looks dark and absent of company or friendship. I always see myself alone, even though I know numerically, I’m not. It’s a hard feeling to explain when you try to detail that you feel like an endangered species or the only one of your kind. People don’t get it because they just don’t feel the same level of disconnect. If they do, they’ve already taken their own steps in making themselves a parachute for their feelings. Good for them, but it’s just not so easy or me. Most days, when I get up in the morning any more I just want it all to stop – but I know it won’t. I have no outlets, I have no saviours and I have very little peace.

    I think I was made as well as they could make me. We all have a destiny in this life. We all have a path. Nobody said it would be easy or what we expected.



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