Everything's Flarked

Maybe something zigged when it should have zagged. Or maybe that great wheel of random chance stopped on "Not This Time" Whatever the case, the music was over and it was the end of that precarious walk, the end of reaching out into the darkness, the end.... In my own belief, it was akin to how the stars that shine the brightest burn out the soonest. They were by his side but he was all alone.... Like Ray sang, like a rolling stone, like Brian Jones. Really I don't know. I'm just one of the stragglers, the late leavers of this party, one of the hangers-on that never picked up a Que or got a clue of when the time had come. Everything's Flarked and I'm just living in the aftermath.  Welcome to Earth. Enjoy your stay.  There are some mornings I tell the universe that I'm so done with it. Ah, but the universe never fails to reply that it's not done with me. I conclude, therefore, through the time tested scientific method that the universe is a smart-ass. I can only hope it has a plan. Distance can be deceptive, be it in space or in time. What may seem close enough to almost touch could never be reached in a lifetime. What seems like yesterday was decades ago. Peace is not always quiet. Silence is not always peace. Sometimes, in fact, it's torture. It would seem the voices of the ones you love are the true background of tranquility. The human soul is not as solitary as we think. Somebody once said that we go crazy with loneliness and we go crazy with togetherness. At least this reminds me that maybe I'm not quite the anomaly I thought I was, but a typical human being. Hooray. By that definition I am normal. In many other ways I am not. I regret that I can only believe in what my senses can confirm. And they seem to be getting less reliable over time. Shadow people and stray irrationality, for I find myself doubting even what I see. As I said, welcome to Earth. That's all, really. Unless it was in print so fine as to be spelled out by the atoms themselves, I clearly don't remember signing up for this. What more can I say? It often seems I am the only one in the world trying to hold things together. "The world" being (of course) my world. For I don't really know any other world but this one. There were the ones who have left me through no choice of their own, through hardship, tragedy, those slings and arrows we mortal human beings can only stand against for so long. There was one who did leave me by choice, though at the time I was oblivious of how the darkness of that presence had been slowly killing me. It turns out indeed that one can (figuratively) get used to the taste of poison after enough time. It takes a healthy dose of harsh light sometimes to see the truth. The main things remaining that still bind me to home are matters of the heart: My heart lives here too. No doubt it would break this heart to leave it all behind. Still, there have been desperate souls who have done far more to secure their freedom. I need to breathe freely. I am not a fan of the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped. Past experience, my friends. Nobody who has escaped Hell and Perdition would willingly go back. Kicking and screaming and with every bit of resistance I could muster: That's how I would go back to that darkness. And even if they overpower me, there would be some demons who would know they had been in one hell of a fight. I am tired. I am so very tired. I have done absolutely everything that I could. I have long done my sentence. Now, I need my freedom. I have endured more than most would endure. I have allowed far more than most would allow. I was talking to my special friend about how in the cycle of life there should come a time when we've long ago done the things we're supposed to have done, when our dues and our sentences have been long ago paid, when we deserve freedom, peace of mind and a true home. I picture my parents on the porch on a beautiful spring day, watching the cardinals and the hummingbirds, enjoying the day and the presence of one another. Imagine the one you love by your side, expecting nothing more than your presence, mind, body, and soul. Picture that beautiful moment. I wish everyone could experience that moment, including myself, including my friend. To have the full energy and resources to truly life life... Before it's gone. It may be cheesy. It may be old-fashioned. But it's my not so secret dream. No mansions, no fancy cars, just a special place with a special person. So much simplicity simply out of the reach of so many of us. I have done my time, and now I want the peace I deserve, even if alone. I am not asking for what should already be mine. I just want the peace I have long ago earned. Everything is flarked. This is the aftermath. I have been trying to make the best from a bad situation. But I can't ignore disappointment after disappointment, especially when the situation does not depend on me and is therefore beyond my control. Work isn't supposed to be fun. It's great when it is, but that's not the norm. Why would they pay us if it were something we already wanted to do? It's a fine American tradition to slap that alarm clock and say, "Man, I'm just not up to this clown show today!" Even actual clowns probably say that. It's life. It's the game we have to play, rules and all. 4 years, 9 years, 3 years, 6 years, 8 years, and counting. That is a very succinct summary of my resume. They add up to 30 years. I tend to keep a job for a very long time. Not because I'm special. It's mainly because I crave stability and am not a fan of change. Also, because there are bills to pay and money doesn't magically appear in my hand, no matter how many times I say Ala Kazam! I didn't make the world or the rules. Still, I've got to live in it and go by them. The world has had zero flarks to give since the dawn of time. That is the only thing that has not evolved, though it has indeed been the motivation for evolution. Want to survive? You've got to evolve. Clean cup move down.... Finally! I just had that crazy recurring 'back with the ex' dream again. It figures as even now I can't seem to escape the consequences of that relationship. Is it normal to involuntarily dream about willingly returning to certain situations you'd never in hell return to in real life? Is there a part of the brain that has soap opera amnesia or something? Holly returned to Roger in The Guiding Light after all. (Something someone like me shouldn't know, but hey, my baby sister was a major fan of that show) Osmosis, I guess. I have often wondered why I have these dreams. In real life, I would absolutely never go back to such a situation of my own free will. Ever wake up with a major Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? Or is it just me and simply means I'm ready for the men in the white coats with the good drugs? I dunno... Three square meals, coloring, drawing, and basket weaving are starting to sound A-okay to me. I am Napoleon! I demand a room with a view! Man, can there be any peace? Can there be any sanity? I am so tired of the stress. I am so tired of the anxiety. I need peace and I need it now. I am just too old, frayed, and frazzled for this nonsense to go on. This is not the life I want to live. How simple should it be to remove the things/people from your life that contribute nothing but anxiety and stress? I, for one, feel that life is far too short to deal with anything you shouldn't have to. I treat my peace as anything else precious to me. I don't want it stolen from me. And... The less time I have left to live a meaningful life, the less patience I have for what ruins it. Nobody who has been through hell ever wants to go back. Everything is indeed flarked. But I think I can at least salvage my dignity, peace, and sanity, with a few bold steps. Damn, I am so sick of being painted into corners. I grow weary of my hand being forced. Damn it. I already live a lonely life. Is that not punishment enough? I don't want ugliness. I don't want war. Just leave me in peace. That is all I could ever hope for these days. Can't I rest in peace yet still live? Shouldn't my darkest night be over by now? Haven't I done my time already? Shouldn't these begin the 'golden years' for me? I have spent more than 30 years in the workforce. I raised three kids by myself (though my parents and sisters were a lot of help). I have endured abandonment, heartache, and grief. I spent years in a bad relationship. I have often felt punished for being the one who stayed and never left. I have suffered the loss of people who truly loved me, my mother, my father, and my baby sister. I have been through trauma I never speak about. I carry guilt that hurts to talk about. I have done everything I could to make things right where and when I can. What more do they want from me? My last heartbeat? My last breath? My last drop of blood? Is there somewhere in the multiverse, this alternate world, where I might have found peace, refuge, and shelter with the one I love? How wonderful such a world would be. I doubt my alternate self would give it up to trade places with me. Can't say I would blame them. Ah, the thought of assurance, certainty, love, belonging, and peace.... How much I crave these things... To rest my mind in harmony, a shoulder, words never spoken but clearly said that everything's going to be okay. No more concerns about wolves and doors and other shoes dropping. No more worrying about tragedies laying in wait. Just peace, certainty, tranquility.... And hope. No more drama, no more heartache, no more pain, anxiety dissolving away like a bad dream. This is what I need. It's that simple. It's that complicated. A season of rest. An era of peace. A soul free to exist as it was meant to be. My dear, special friend, could we not find all this in one another? I wish it were so. I wish it were actually meant to be. This is about so much more than loneliness. There is so much more I could never put into words. I understand the lonely. I hear their pleas, so many that it becomes the background static of the universe. I feel their pain. I understand the struggle well because I, too, am among that ironically crowded sea of the lonely. I am one of those countless messages in a bottle The Police sang about. We're not alone in being alone. If it means anything at all, I hear you. I wish I could help. Sadly, that's just not how it works. Humanity is a scattered puzzle that has been spilled out on the floor. We are the pieces. We wish to be part of that beautiful picture on the box. In a perfect world, we would all be. Fitting expectations is the problem. I feel your pain, but I can not ease it. I am not the good Doctor Blog-ieo. I am just this creature, this being just trying to find that place of rest. Sometimes, I think only oblivion could ever save me. Some days, I am more ready than others. I can even be impatient sometimes. Then there are the days I wish my story to go on a little longer. Right now? I don't know. I do not wish for the anxiety, stress, or drama to go on. That, I wish, would end this very instant. I wish for the love to go on. I wish for the laughter to go on. I wish hope could go on. But, please, no more fear, no more worry, no more pain. It is burning me from the inside out. It's just too much. I can deal with a lot for a short time. I can deal with a little for a long time. I can not deal with too much for very long. Either way, I seem to be at an end of sorts. I can't tell exactly what it means, though. Most likely, the end of my sanity. I just don't want to play this game anymore. It's late in the fourth quarter, and there's no changing the score. Fourth down and the entire field to go. The toughness of the turf and the bright lights of the stadium are killing me. Far softer is the grass behind the bleachers. Far better are the dark and quiet woods beyond. There I could rest. There I could forget. Still, I have one last play, one last gamble, and one last plea. Oblivia, Oh, Dearest Oblivia, have you forsaken me? Oh, beautiful goddess of eternity! Please save me from memory. Please save me from everything! Please hold me in your loving embrace and make me forget. Please wrap me in your forgiving arms and forever claim me. Please rescue me from all that ever existed. Everything is flarked, and I no longer wish to see. If I can not behold a beautiful city, I would prefer oblivion to gazing at its ruins. The wreckage is just too painful to witness. The very image burns both heart and eyes. It is an agony I feel all through my soul. Oh, Dear Oblivia, please have mercy and make it stop. Help me, Universe Kenobi, You're my only hope. Okay... Clean cup move down. Look, folks, you've just got to take my venting of raw emotion with whatever grain of salt you wish. All this has got to go somewhere. I have been on edge all week because of certain things going on in my life. I am doing my best to preserve my patience and tolerance, but I can only take so much, ladies and gentlemen. This is my grounding wire. This is the lightning rod designed to conduct it all to a safe place to let it out. Pouring it out here keeps me from flipping out in the real world.... Well.... Almost... I damn near flipped out on whatever disgusting nasty freak of nature thought it right to sit down next to me in the bathroom. I hate that bullshit. It's encroaching on my privacy and my dignity. Especially when there are plenty of other places they could have gone. I don't like it at all. I don't give a damn who you are. This is not a goddamn group activity, you disgusting freak! Damn it! Stay away! On a normal day, I would have stayed quiet and got the hell out. This time, I had a few choice words for whoever that was. Then I got out before I could start throwing punches. This is not a good day to mess with me. I'm trying my best to be civil and polite, but I'm struggling against other factors. For that reason, I am trying to keep to myself, for I fear my best may just not be good enough. If you're not going out of your way to be a jerk, you'll be okay. It's just that there are a very few who do that I normally quietly tolerate who might get a nasty surprise if I'm not careful today. It's not something I want to happen. A bad reputation is the last thing I need. I'm like Scotty. I'm trying to hold the ol' gal together, but I'm giving it all she's got and lads, I don't know how much longer I can hold her together. Yes, everything's flarked, but I'm doing my best to hold this ship together. Hopefully, we'll make it to the planet of the babes and I can get my Kirk on. But we're totally flarked forever if I've gotta fight the Klingons. Either way, I give the order: Ahead, Warp Factor 9! It is indeed lonely out in space. It is even more lonely to live a thankless life, to work yourself into the ground and never be appreciated, just expected to do more. I guess they'll never know what it's like until and if they ever find themselves where I am today. I definitely, on behalf of my younger dumber self owe an apology to my own parents. I understand now, Mom and Dad. Now I know how you must have felt. Maybe all this hell that I've been through is my way of atonement for having been such a brat. Still, I am honestly regretful and have long since learned better. Your patience with me in those days is something truly to be admired. Sadly, I think I lack it, myself. I sure do miss you. I could use some advice, actually. I hope that the person I have grown into would make you proud of me. I'm still a mess, a total ball of nerves, but I am holding the old ship together. The phase inducers may be sparking like a light show, turning main engineering into Studio 54, but the warp core is still intact. Wait, what? Did we just pass the saucer section? Nah... Let's keep going. Beam me up and boogie down, Scotty! Harooooo! Let's do the Watergate Breakdown! Break it down, Agnew, Break it down! Better it be the Watergate Breakdown than the Cosmic Wie Breakdown. This space cadet has still got to pilot the ship! You could say my course had been a bit erratic this week, But I'm still at the wheel. The heat is hot and the stress has been heavy. There is so much that is beyond my control. It's really had me down because it really shouldn't be this way. When you have made the effort, when you have done the time, shouldn't it mean something? I would hope that it would. Life does not get easier as you grow older. It just should be that you've had more time to have gotten your life together. You shouldn't be weighed down or burdened. Though, sometimes you've got to walk through the fire. It is a tough old world. None of us asked to be here. But do you know? I am grateful to my parents for giving me this life. It has not always been wonderful. It has not always been beautiful. But life is the most precious gift I have ever been given. For an eternity before, I did not exist. For the eternity after, I will not exist. But now I am alive. There will be plenty of eternity not to be. But there's only one now. Eternity minus one day will still be, even though nothing is forever. Not joy, but neither is sorrow. Not laughter, but neither are tears. Not me, but neither is the pain. Neither is the loneliness. Neither is the grief. Neither is stress. Neither is fear. Neither is anxiety. Oblivion takes all. Oblivion returns you to peace, to innocence. Oblivion frees. Oblivion saves. It burns burdens. It burns sin. It destroys pain. It is the end of all things. It is only we who still live who have the power to keep memories alive. These thoughts of Oblivia do bring heavy contemplation of justice. If true, it means we catch our punishment here on earth. I would imagine the stress of that looming capital sentence would indeed be punishing to a serial killer. I'm sure life in the bunker was a sort of hell for Hitler. And regular criminals are sure to make prison as hellish as possible for the perverts. But what about that Jimmy Seville guy who wasn't found out until after his death? That would certainly be an injustice. Though the Exotic One did beat the daylights out of him and was glad he did when he later found out what a monster he was. Ah, The Merchant Of Menace and Deliverer of Justice. I bet he wished he had hit harder. He too is gone, but he was a memorable wrestler who still has a lot of fans, myself included.