Popped Cherries

I woke up today and realized, quite frankly, I’m a fuck up.
It’s one of those things you don’t ever want to admit about yourself, but once the evidence piles on itself over and over, it’s a bit hard to avoid.
How many times do you need to check your bank account balance and see it’s overdrawn for the 4th time in a month to understand the merits of a budget?
Is there a limit to how much money you try to extract from your parents before you might want to understand that life line won’t always be there?
Can you get your license suspended 3 or more times before it’s beaten into your head you might want to take care of those tickets and taxes?
How many pointless jobs can you go through before you finally realize you have the ability for more if you just go for it with your all?
How can you be handed a game plan on a silver platter, the means to execute, and the time to follow through, yet just sit there frozen? Blank.
What does it take to finally get the push you need?
Is it horror?
Is it pain?
Is it loss?
Is it happiness?
Pride?
Love?
Sex?
Hope?
Money?
Nothingness?
Is it anything?
How can you be so…yet so…
How will it all end?
Will it ever end?
What becomes of the ones who want, but never do?
I don’t suppose you hear about them all that often.
The voice of the chosen voiceless….

Sigh.
I’m thinking of going in a different direction. On this site. In my art. In my time. In my life.
It’s always been a struggle to “figure out” exactly what it is I’m doing.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve just zoned out for weeks on end, living on a couch in my head. Trying to whittle down exactly why the fuck and who the fuck is walking around in my skin.
I look to others for some kind of kinship, but I’m usually left with blank stares and awkward head nods.
It’s not surprising. Who can understand yourself better than you?
To feel such a lack of connection though, it’s disturbingly rough. Disheartening.
What stings the most though is having a thousand pieces scattered about, but no guide or map to help make a puzzle.
Instead of advancing, I waste hours of time trying to arrange things so there is at least a semblance of…something. Anything.
I definitely fault my upbringing for leaving gaping holes in my ability to resolve issues.
It’s not a parenting problem and I refuse to scapegoat something I can barely remember.
I think it’s more of a cog in the machine type mentality that got me to where I am right now.
People aren’t taught how to NOT be that cog. They are taught to become part of the machine. An entire education system revolves around being a new gear to replace a dying one.
I’ve never once been taught or encouraged to think for myself by any educational institution I’ve attended.
It’s always been, “Learn these facts and report on them” or “This is an idea someone else had, don’t question it’s validity because you aren’t qualified to do so”.
A lifetime of reinforcement you are nothing but a future part of the system and there’s little you can do to fight that.
The big question is what do you do when you don’t want to be that shiny new cog in someone’s machine?
Who do you turn to when you want to learn how to be your own tinkerer? Maybe one day living off the grid.
Where do you start when you want to have a little for yourself?
Where do you go?

I have recurring dreams.
Some are better than others.
They would all fall under the title of “Nightmares”, but realistically, they aren’t very scary.
Usually, I’m with a small group of archetype characters who I’ve never met, then I’m forced into a house or a hotel to defend myself from roaming zombies.
That’s another constant. Large buildings with multiple rooms and corridors and just an expanse of awesome set pieces.
There I am, fighting my way through, seeing some people die here and there. Some of the people in the group get bitten and we have to put them down.
There sometimes are animal zombies. Little yippy lap dogs and talking rats thirsty for my brains. Crazy shit.
Trying to determine what’s going on in my sub-conscience is the most frustrating part.
I’m not always a believer in dreams = knowledge, but when you have recurring patterns in your life, it’s difficult to leave alone and not try to extrapolate data from it.
There I sat, 5:47am trying to figure it all out.
I’m left with three thoughts.
1. I’m walking through life like a zombie. (likely)
2. I’m so isolated from the world that everyone around me feels like the walking dead. (possible)
3. My life is meaningless and nothing I have done, am doing, or will do makes any sense or point and I’m deluding myself into thinking it does. (plausible)
Maybe tomorrow I’ll have one of my tornado dreams to really round out a mentally challenging week.