My lack of conviction

So as it turns out, I’m really bad at writing when I put myself on a schedule for it. I was looking forwards to NaPoWriMo, but trying to work on something I wasn’t actually feeling proved to be more difficult than anticipated. Anyway, my apologies to anyone who subscribed to see poetic updates.

I do intend to continue writing whenever something comes up. I’ll probably have a fair bit to say in the next week or two. Lots of things happening in my life right now, family related and otherwise. Until then.

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National Poetry Writing Month

I somehow managed to forget it’s NaPoWriMo. I wanted to participate, but seems my life has been a little too hectic to keep up on something like that right now. Guess I’ll jump in a little late. I’ll try and post something by midnight every night for the remainder of the month. I’ll just be running behind by a couple days – will probably spill it into the beginning of next month.

Back in the frying pan

Here we are again, faced with what feels like crippling depression. I’ve been diagnosed a couple times by various psychologists, but for the last few months it’s been running in the background. I’ve felt happier than I have in a long time. I don’t know what’s setting me off now. I’ve had a great time the last few days enjoying the company of friends and my lovely girlfriend. When I woke up this morning, though….

I’m really not sure how to approach it. I’ve felt this way so many times in my life, especially over the course of the last few years, but I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to talk. I barely even feel like writing this right now. I think it’s for the best, though. Writing something – even little somethings like this – will probably help me come out of my funk. Hopefully it’s enough.

I used to take antidepressants. They helped take the edge off. I flushed them about a year ago. I was doing fine. Now I’m not sure that was the best idea. Maybe I should start going to therapy again. That helped a lot. I was able to talk to someone, get constructive feedback, and it was always… well, therapeutic.

I’m gonna try and hit the town tonight, see if anyone wants to hang out. Maybe I’ll get some of this weight off my shoulders if I actually push myself to do something away from home for a while. I think I hear the Guitar Hero arcade at Boxcar calling my name. Here we go….

Fever Dream

I had a dream. You were there. For the first time in almost 20 years, I saw your face again. I’ve missed you, my dear friend. I’ve missed our adventures. Our conversations. I miss the time we spent together when I had nobody else to run to. What happened to you? You stopped talking to me one day, and you seemed to disappear from my life entirely. I’ve seen signs that you’re still somewhere, alive and well – I’ve had a feeling we’d find each other again. I just didn’t expect it to happen this way. You were scared….

What were you scared of? Who, or what, were you hiding from? I tried to comfort you, but you wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. I might never know. It’s been a long time since we last spoke, and I don’t know if you’ll come to me again. I hope to see you. I hope to ask you what you fear. I hope all is well until then. For now, I can only dream of the day I dream with you once more.

 

I̶̲̗̠̞̓̔͑̾́͌̒͊̅̚ť̸̡̝͎̜̖̠̦̭̓̈̊ ̵̧̲̿́́̌̅̏̈͌̕ͅs̷̢̛͔̱͎̯̫͔͖͈̖͙͍̓̂͌̄̉̎̎̾̔͒̌̓̓͌ẻ̸̼̞͚̙͇͇̪̠̲̗̖͉̏͛̀̌͑̊͂͠͝ͅè̴̛̠̮͈̀͂͂̓̄̆̈́̈̄̀̉m̸̖̰̞͍̝͎̣͗̊̂̆̉̋͋̉́ͅs̵̬̹͚̙̤̝͕̋͋̿̾̈̍̔́̂͊̀͂̚͝ ̶̣̰͖̯͛̒̽͝y̸̢̢̧̨̪̱̟̲͎̳̝̘̒͛̆́̂ő̸͙̙̠̗̤̻̫͇̻̅͑ů̷̢͍̤̹̘͕͖̂̋͆̽̔̈́̾͊̏̈́̓̔̚ ̶̨̛͔̦͇̥̱̖̀́̇̈́̔͒̊͑ẃ̶̨͚̱͍͎̞̦̗̝̻͙̪͚̳̌͊̀̄̃̄̃͊͗̓͘͘͘͜͠è̴͚͕̕r̵̛̰̯̆̿̄̾e̸̱̻̿̈́̊̉̿̔̂̈́̀̓̿̎̕͠ ̴̟̊̇͋̀̄̊̀̊̋̌̊o̸̩͈̎͊̿̽͛́͊̕ñ̷̞̀̇̈́̓̄̈́̀̌̈́̿͘l̶̡̨̝̘̹̟̮̥̾̂y̴̮̖̓́̎̈͆̂̓͑̆̊͛ ̴̡̪͖̩̖̫͈̻̖̲̼̣̜̦̽̈́̒̉͠͠á̷̻͇̱̞̮͙̟̭̭̏͋̅̉̐́̑̑͂̀ͅ ̵̪̙̤̲̲̾̾̌͘f̴̨̧͎̘̤̻̝͉̥̟̯̉̾̃̈́͊̒̓̄̔̾̑͗̾͘͠ͅë̸̛̗̯͚͔̖̖̭́̏̑̄͂̍̊́̓̕v̴͈͉̝̟̱͙͆̄̀͊̾̾̓̑̆͑̏͝ẽ̵̱̗̤̦̥̜̮̺̎́͜r̴̡̳͖̖̦͍̬̰̣̪̫͑͛̅̎͑̒̔̑͝ ̴̧̹͖̙̈̿͒̕͜͝d̵͍̥̞̬͛̾r̷͓̘̻̼͖͈̙̘͖͙̲͇̪̎̆̀̂͒̇͑̀͛̐͆͐͘̚͜͜͝ȩ̶̢̢̮̝̯͕͎̼̱̳̮̱͓̇̈́̉̅̾̅̌̚͜á̵͈̼͉̹̘̹͚̪͚̃̋́̂̌̃̔́͠m̸̥̺͙͈̪̥̈́̌͋͌̀̇͌̈́̄͠.̶̛̼͚̼̻͈́́̌͊̏̊̉̅̏͐̒̌͠

And we begin again

It’s been more than a year since my last entry. I feel as though it was only yesterday. I said goodbye to someone I held dear to my heart, but perhaps it was for the better. We’ve gone our separate ways now – she to the warm embrace of another, me to the comfort of a new home with a loving lady.

Despite everything that’s happened in the last year – the trials and hardships, the anger and arguments – I’ve found myself content. I realize how much I used to take for granted. I threw it all away in search of something that was missing inside myself. As it turns out, I had it all along. But now I’ve found it again in another. And I’m happy. Perhaps life and love aren’t as complicated as I’ve made them out to be.

Empty

I’ve found something deep within
A hole, the shape of a heart
It burns with desire
Its depths are fathomless
I feel it
It pulls at my soul
It rips at my body
It must be filled
But who, if any, can carry that burden?
I know of but one
A pure, loving, angel of a person
Do you feel what I feel?
Do my cries reach you?
You speak, and I listen
You move, and I follow
Your every breath is a relief
Every fibre of my being yearns for you
Every hair stands on end when you’re near
Every passing moment with you is an eternity
You don’t know me
You don’t love me
You can’t possibly
But I dream, and I hope, and I wish
That one day
The hole that I could never bear to reveal to you
Will be filled with the love I so long for
And one day
You will see me for who I truly am

Numb

Last night was an emotional roller coaster. To start, I was working for almost 13 hours straight. My girlfriend, who suffers from anxiety and depression, was home alone. I came home to her drunk and talking to her old hookups (a culture I don’t understand, but can accept). She was manic, I was tired, and we didn’t really see eye to eye on the situation.

An hour or two before I got home, she started drinking. I didn’t realize she went and bought a bunch of Smirnoff. I got home to an empty 6-pack. We don’t drink often, so alcohol tolerance is pretty low. She’s had history with alcoholism. The drinks put her on a self destructive streak. She was frantically searching for something to rip herself up with. I took knives and staple removers from her, but she kept fighting to hold on to them.

Over the course of a couple hours, we went from talking to me convincing her cutting isn’t going to solve anything. I know from plenty experience that the release is only temporary, and the scars are a permanent reminder of sorrow and stupidity. She kept pushing me to break up with her. I love her. I don’t want to leave her. But she was so convinced that she’s worthless.

Today, I don’t know what to feel. I’m numb. I’m falling into a depression again, and I think it’s due to hers. I don’t know what to do. I have no desire to do any work, to attend class, to be productive. I just want to curl up and hide from the world. I hate this. I want to be okay, and I want to have the strength to help her do the same. But I can’t. Not right now.

A brief history of who I am

I’m forever left thinking what kind of life I would be leading if certain events throughout hadn’t happened. The divorce of my parents when I was young left a rather large, if subtle, impact on my life. I was raised without knowing the man I used to call my father, and I moved from place to place; forever drifting from city to city, and repeatedly losing friends in the process. At the time, I was far too young to understand what was happening. All I knew is my parents fought, and life as I knew it was no longer.

Several years down the road, at my aunt’s deathbed, I was reintroduced to my father. It’s a story I’m sure I’ve told a thousand times. He seemed like a fantastic gentleman, willing to give his children anything and everything. He would bring my sister and I on adventures, from the shore to amusement parks, to regular visits to his friends. My outlook on life changed drastically as he showed me what being spoiled felt like. I became rotten, needy, and found myself wanting more than could be provided while I lived with my mother and stepfather.

Shortly after I’d started high school, I made the decision to move in with my father. Things were going amazingly well at first. But the fun and love in the household didn’t last longer than a month. I realized too late that I’d put myself in a dangerous position. I was living in my own personal hell; perhaps to atone for being the rotten child that I had become, perhaps as a test of my mental and emotional endurance. I was starved, I was beaten, and I was isolated from the world around me. My only escape was in my school, and the only person who cared to help me live was a friend who I grew quite fond of.

Without my friend, who we’ll call Rae, I might not be who I am today. Perhaps not even alive. For a year, I put up with the abuse at home, finding peace only in her warm embrace. She nurtured my broken soul, picking up the pieces as they fell to the ground. It came to a point where I couldn’t bear it anymore, but I’d already been reduced to a hopeless wreck; naught but an empty vessel bent on self destruction. Rae pushed me to seek counsel, and when I finally took her advice, I was moved back in with my mother.

For a while, I was fragile. I no longer felt safe in my own home, and I didn’t have anywhere to run. Rae stayed with me through it all, despite the distance between us. But my heart and soul were still weighed down with the grief that was thrust upon me. I found comfort not in the love of others, but in the hatred of myself. I found solace in the cold sting of the blade upon my flesh. I abused my relationships with others, manipulating them to my own will. Before long, I distanced myself from Rae, and grew close to someone else. Despite everything she’d done for me, despite the love she showed and care she’d given, I left her. I cut her out of my life entirely. And I moved across the country for Macintyre.

I promised myself I would become more mature, more stable; and for a time, I found it difficult. Mac helped pull me out of the pit of despair I’d dug myself into. We lived comfortably and happily for a few years. But I grew complacent. I stopped showing gratitude for the help and support she provided. I stopped expressing my emotions the way I did when we first met. I bottled up the sadness and anger that built within me, just as I did when I lived with my father. This led to complications I had never foreseen. She could only take so much; could only put up with the emptiness for so long. And she found love in another, just as I had years before.

I’m in a new place now, as some of you might know. I’m doing well for myself, and I feel I’ve matured enough to know where my boundaries are. But I can’t help but wonder. What would have happened? How different would I be if my parents had never divorced? If I’d never become spoiled by the man I called my father? If I’d never met Macintyre? I can only assume I’d be in a much different position. I wouldn’t be the man I am today. I suppose I can only be glad that my life unfolded in the fashion that it did.

Trials and tribulations: Financial edition

Financial troubles are something we all deal with at some point, and lately I’ve been having an unfortunate few months. I moved from Michigan to North Carolina in October, and since then I’ve been struggling to keep things together. My girlfriend is very supportive, but I can only stretch things so far.

When I moved to NC, I had a plan to get a job in retail again. Soon after I arrived, though, things started falling down hill. The holiday seasons were coming up quick, and I assumed I could get a temporary job in retail or food service. Apparently all the seasonal help had been hired already; I hadn’t received a single call from any of the companies I applied to. Fortunately, I had a backup plan.

Around December, I decided to start doing some freelance web gigs. I was able to net 2 customers, one of which I hoped would be a long-term client. I designed some content for a couple of people on a freelancing website, which was nice. Fed me for a couple weeks, and helped me pay my phone bill. A little while later, I met someone who was looking to build a niche social network. Things seemed hopeful. He was willing to pay me every couple weeks for development, and we settled on a price that could support me for a while. After he gave me the first check, he pulled out of the deal. He put his project on hold, and my life with it.

Shortly after I lost the gig, I decided to get a student loan. It was enough money to take classes for IT certifications, and I thought that it would make things easier; I wouldn’t have to pay anything until I’m out of school. I figured, “Hey, if I can get papers saying I’m capable of working to a certain standard, I’ll have no problem getting a job.” Things were going good. I’m currently Microsoft certified, thanks to some of the lessons I’ve been taking. I started applying to some jobs, but as before, nobody was hiring. Some time last month I received a call from Macintyre. She told me she received a letter of delinquency saying I was a couple months behind payment.

That’s when things started getting really edgy. I owed $360 to a company I thought wouldn’t bother me until I was out of school (and hopefully employed). I was threatened with court, and I spent hours on the phone trying to work out a deal. My parents and my girlfriend all pitched in to help me out of the ditch I’d dug for myself, but for the time being I’m still unemployed. I’ve been applying everywhere, and I’ve only recently received a call to come in for an interview.

Yesterday, around 3 in the afternoon, I received a call from a nearby county office. I applied to them a month or two ago. I thought it was a lost cause, to be honest. Turns out, they need a web designer. I’m going in for an interview next Wednesday. I’m not gonna hold my breath on it, but I’m really hopeful for this position. Best-case scenario, I’ll be working a pretty good job. Worst-case, I’ll be deep in debt, jobless, and my relationship will be under a lot of financial stress.

Here’s to hoping for the best. World… wish me luck, and sorry for the novel.

Job hunting.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my career choices lately. In the past, I’ve worked in the food industry (in a pizza kitchen), in retail (let’s call the store EverythingMart), and I’ve done a bit of freelance work here and there. Nothing really seems to be fulfilling to me.

I love the freelance work, as I’ve been doing web development/design, but it’s definitely not something I can do steadily. I don’t have enough of a name to pick up the kind of clientele I’d need to sustain myself. Honestly, I can’t really consider it anything more than just a hobby. I have no formal education, a very limited portfolio, and the skills of an amateur. Family and friends think I’m some kind of wizard for being able to do what I do, but it’s pretty rudimentary stuff.

Something I’ve been pursuing lately is a career in IT. I’m currently attending classes to learn the materials necessary to get my certifications, and so far I’ve earned two of them (on the fast track to a third). As far as jobs go, most things are service desk; which is fine, except I prefer working with the hardware. I’ve always loved tearing down computers, rebuilding them, and making custom builds to sell to friends. Honestly, I think this might be the best choice of career for me. The hours are regular, the pay’s pretty decent.

To be honest, though, I’m not sure it’s entirely worth it. It’s been 6 months, I’ve had 1 interview, no job, and I’m about ready to give up.