Hello, Universe. How are all the quarks? Are they up or down? Are they top or bottom? Are they outright strange? Are they a myriad of others, or even all of the above? Come on, Universe. Inquiring minds wanna know. As for me, and per usual, I will talk about my quirks rather than my quarks. After all, I can't say that I own all this matter I seem to temporarily occupy. Considering the ages, it is merely a quick loan. Okay, okay, okay. How about we give this the non college try? I'm not sure if it is the heat of late or a continuation of all the various and sundry things running through my brain.. But I've been feeling disconnected, detached, and otherwise off in the twilight zone. Though not exactly. Because I seem to remember people in a few of those episodes getting to talk to their long lost loved ones, be it through time travel, dimensional shift, or the supernatural. Although, even without such impossibilities, I still seem to talk to mine to the point where I have begun to question my own sanity. I have heard this saying (Was it Shakespeare?) that life is a stage and we each must play a part I guess I'm fine with that except for looking around and finding more and more of my most beloved co-stars leaving the show. It's kinda like that song, Abraham, Martin, and John.... But on a level far more personal, if no less meaningful. I know not everyone on here is a Star Trek TNG fan like I am, but there was this one episode called "Remember Me", a Beverly Crusher centric one where everyone in here life just started vanishing one by one. I won't spoil that episode, but she gets her people back due to thought and reality. But there does not seem to be a temporal gateway anywhere near me. This is reality for all of us. And it's a hell of a dark and gloomy thought to have running around your brain. Maybe it is a motivation to love and to cherish those we still have. I guess my problem is I can't stop loving the ones I don't.
Maybe it's more like like when Robin Williams asked Embeth Davidtz THIS question in Bicentennial Man.
“Andrew Martin: Will every human being that I care for just... leave?
- Portia Charney: I'm afraid so.”
This messed-up dream of the stage I occupy seeming to become more and more empty seems to go on and on and on. Sometimes I feel like
I'm in one of those episodes where I fell through a temporal rift,
finding myself in this strange universe where my loved ones seem to be
gone, and I can't find my way back. But, this is reality. The truth is
this is the same old world as it always has been. It is just unfamiliar
of late, not because I no longer knew it, but because I only now realize
that I never really did. This may not be the twilight zone, but still,
it has a twist well worthy of Rod Serling's narration. And the biggest
twist of all? This is real. All too real.
I'm not sure if summer heat or winter cold are best at reminding me I am no longer young, but both do a good job of it. This overwhelming heat of the last few days has sure done a number on me. All my energy has gone on vacation. I feel like I could sleep for an eternity if I could only find a cool, dark place, with silence and a sense of timelessness. Such a place sounds wonderful. Is that what I have become? Am I really that tired of life? I don't know. What I do know is that those simple pleasures have gotten fewer and farther between and that this ancient soul is in dire need of rest. I am not sure if the rest I need is temporary or of the forever kind. It's just that if I ever had any zeal for life, it too got lost in the portal, sucked in by the anomaly, zapped into oblivion. Whether I can get it back remains one of the many mysteries of the universe.
Man, this can't be healthy. This mindset of late sure ain't doing anybody any favors. But what are the alternatives? I might actually grasp for a few straws if there were any. But I don't have even the foggiest idea what straws we're talking about. I'd jump onto just about any alternative if there were any. I sure as hell ain't getting anywhere like this. In my deepest daydreams, there are alternatives of cruise ships and beaches and fancy umbrella drinkys. There are heroes and impossible aquamarine scenes. In this dream, I get to be just where and who and exactly what I wish I could be. But that ship will never leave Earth, and this space cadet will remain forever grounded. There is no hero dashing in to save me from my figurative dragons and demons. I must make war against them alone. I can't really promise to win, but I'll put my word on the line that I will fight to whatever end this battle may have in store. I may go down, but I'll be kicking and screaming and cursing all the way down until my breath has been completely taken away from me. Even if those figurative monsters manage to best me, they'll know they've been in one serious fight. This old soul is still worth a very high price.
I honestly believe somebody's true value as a human being is not how talented or great or awesome they are. It is how they treat their fellow human beings. One might can move mountains or charm the birds from the trees, but if all they project is a stone cold wall, it all comes to nothing. As beautiful a face, a voice, or a song may be, it's only in the heart that beauty rings true. It is only in the soul that it has any substance. The soul, too, knows more than anybody else, the light of the truth. We all play our roles. We all have our figurative masks to match what the world expects us to be. But what about our true selves? There are so many things about myself that not even I can quite wrap my own mind around, much less expect the world to understand. It is a very lonely feeling, not being able to express what I believe to be my very soul. It's lonely, so damned lonely. This life stopped being my own a long time ago. I often wonder if it was ever truly mine in the first place. Should I let this feeling go? There once was elation despite everything. It made me happy for the first time in years. It was a candle, a lantern, a bit of light that made my darkest days a bit brighter. Nobody could ever know or understand just how I wish I could have turned this glimmer of light into a lighthouse beam. But I'm forever confined by circumstance, with age making the walls of that confinement close in tighter and tighter. Should I let go and resign myself to just playing a role I never asked for? Should I just give up and simply fall into line? I don't think I could do so and continue to patch the HMS Mental Health, at least well enough to keep it from sinking. Said ship would probably make The Flying Dutchman look like the freaking love boat. "Yarrrrrrr! Love, excitin' an new! Come abaaaaaaard, we be expectin' you!" Should I give up? And would I have anything left to live for if I did? Should I let go? I have a feeling it would be very bad for my state of mind. Do I fall into madness by being myself, or will I be simply driven to the same madness by feeling unknown, unheard, unseen, and unloved? By feeling invisible, misread, never understood? To be understood is the most basic need of any human being. Invisibility is the loneliest feeling of all. And it's this loneliness that wears on my soul, on my remaining sanity.
And letting go is not as easy a task as one might think. I can't let go of this grief either. I want to, but I can't. I rightly or wrongfully feel that letting go would be disrespectful. They're no longer here, and life just sucks even more without them. It is a heavy weight on my heart. Mentally, I am a total mess, dissolving into my emotions, yet never really able to express how I feel. Nobody wants to hear me complain, and I don't really blame them.I've been trying to put myself back together again with all the success of the king's horses and the king's men. Plus, I had a miserable fall. It certainly wasn't a great fall at all. I need to come out of this zombie funk. This mindset isn't helping them or me. If I can't roll out from under this slowly descending curtain, it's not going to be good. I need sunshine and space and air. I need to think. I need to breathe. I need to feel alive, human, something. Yes, yes, I know. I once again sound like a drama queen, but how else am I supposed to say this? Am I supposed to keep silent and just repress everything? That sure sounds healthy to me. It worked so well for me last time that I totally hit rock bottom. You know something? There are some things a lot of folks are never going to understand. They accuse certain people of pretending to be something they're not because they finally stopped pretending. How can one not see the irony in this? How can you define another person when you don't live in their head and could never know the inner workings of their soul. To quote Will Riker, "No, you can't. Don't even try." Just who is pretending? The ones pretending they have the right to define someone's soul when they're outside of it. That's who. And if their definition is too narrow to fit, that sounds like a "Them" problem to me. Not that being recognized by that lot would ever matter anyway. They'd just cover their eyes and go la la la, can't hear you, won't see you. It would be a grave mistake to seek validation from them. And, you don't really need it. Define yourself, validate yourself, be yourself. Strive for that reality. Let nobody steal that identity. Sometimes, it's all we're left with. To deny yourself that identity, to force yourself into a role that is not as yourself, is a one-way ticket to the funny farm. And I'm trying not to wind up there, despite admitting to being at least half crazy already. As I have said, if I have indeed gone insane, then I've earned it. fair and square. Having lived my life, having seen what I've seen, dealt with what I've dealt with, you'd be crazy too. Hell, I deserve a big, shiny, sparkly glowy trophy for still being able to put two rational thoughts together after all this shit. Congratulations for not being Nutso The Freakin Clown by this point. Name, Occupation, and mental state all rolled into one. Should the Mad Hatter invite Mrs. Kersh over? I know, I know. But don't trouble your pretty little head, dear. Clean cup move down!
There are days like this one where I just can't seem to get my mind together. There should be no reason for feeling so out of it. I finally got some good sleep last night, yet I'm still a zombie anyway. I still feel like I could sleep forever. I feel like one of those lions that got tranked on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. Watch it with those damn darts, Mr. Perkins! I am dazed and confused enough as it is. There is a question that keeps surfacing like a balloon in this foggy brain of mine that keeps asking me why the hell am I putting so much out here that I would never tell anyone else. That's a good question. I guess the only way to clear the mind is to empty it out. And here it is, a giant mountain of heavy thoughts I would have otherwise swept under the rug. Here I am, Universe. Friends, Romans, strangers, and robots, This is me, A.E.B. Welcome to the voice of my soul. Can you hear me, now? It all goes back to my many times saying, "Out of my head, on to the page." So here is this mountain of thoughts and feelings. It is not a graveyard because my thoughts are very much alive. It's not a landfill because they are not garbage. It's not some dusty warehouse because I think them daily. Let's just call it Bartertown. Going by the rules, the Thunderdome is quite empty, as I continue to face the wheel for a busted deal. Said deal was a long time ago when I tried to do the 'right' thing. It is when you learn, truly learn, that the lines blur when you realize things are not so simple. The benefit of the doubt should be a fundamental human right. If you can't know, then do not judge. Say it again, Commander: "No, you can't, Don't even try." Save all that judgment for within your own kingdom, the domain of your own soul. Just like with me, there should be plenty of judgment there to be looking outside for more. The doc is already over capacity as it is. I know you've been sworn, Sir, and I have read your complaint. I hereby order you another clean cup and to move down immediately, or that's 15 years in the Alaskan Gulag for you. Mr. Hatter, take them away. This court now stands in recess. I have only now noticed how my subject changes have not lasted too long at all. I keep finding myself coming back to a different manifestation of the same thing. Maybe it's good to come back with a new angle. It sure beats going in circles. Oh well. I will try this again later. Wishing you well, Universe. There is nothing I want more than for you to be happy. A star so lovely and bright, A star that shines in the darkness and guides me to this very day deserves nothing less. I love you, Universe. May you shine beyond my time.
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