Is the beauty of the world in the faces of the ugly?

So today after work I came home to find Dad in bed not feeling well. We decided to fend for ourselves for dinner so after a few hours of gazing into the television I decided to kill two birds with one stone by breaking the boredom with a trip to the Waffle House. What an enlightening evening.

As I sat there alone at the counter I couldn't help but feel the usual " we're so busy " tension in the air. The waitress asked me what I wanted to drink and as I sat there I began to look around. I started to really concentrate on everyone's face around me. My though process was interrupted by the laughter of some teen-aged girls sitting in a booth at the end of the counter. My immediate thought was that they were laughing at me as that is how my brain interprets unfamiliar laughter. I had to tell myself that they weren't laughing at me and somehow I mustered up the strength to look in their direction. That's when it hit me.

A wave came over my body. I started seeing people in a different way right then and there. A lump started to build in my throat. I looked around the room. I started concentrating once again at the faces before me. Beauty. I could see the wrinkles in the faces of some of the woman that worked there. Beauty. I could see insecurity and hurt in the face of the young, pretty waitress. An almost sadness, but still beautiful. There was so much life and pain all around me; So much hurt and sadness, but also a lot of hope. I began to wonder how many of these people were feeling loved. I mean can you be loved and feel loved even when you are away from the
" object of love ", i.e. the one whom you share this love with? I wonder because everyone in that Waffle House tonight carried a lot of pain. So many weather marks of life. I was just astounded.

I saw a lot of smiles tonight, but are smiles just a blanket to cover are true feelings? I've heard it said that if you learn to keep smiling even when you're sad that the smile will eventually turn genuine. I wonder if that's what some of these people tonight were trying to do. To cover their feeling with a smile from the inside out or from the outside in. I can only speak for myself in regards to smiling and for me it hurts. I smile to hide my feelings and to try and shrug off my overactive mind. The mind that haunts me. My only " true " smiles are just an alcoholic illusion. What extension of character, if any, is in a smile?

Anyway the point is that in these many faces; tired, ugly, wrinkled, dull faces is beauty. In the many shiny, smooth, young faces; there is beauty. Now the tragic thing to me is that upon these faces are miles and miles of life up until this very point. So if you ever really begin to look and I mean really look at someone's face it will indeed reveal something and it will be beautiful among the right light because to me there is even beauty in hate, in resent, in anger and in shame. Yes there is beauty among all of the ugly faces, maybe even my own.


A side note to why I wrote this down:

The past week or so has been very tough for me having run out of seroquel and going into extreme withdrawals. I was running a fever and had the shakes even more so than usual. Not to go into too much detail, but tonight my mind is playing severe tricks on me and I'm really thinking about going to the hospital. I'm again alone and afraid. I don't know how I'm going to make it through the night. I'm tired of feeling this way and just wish my mind would/ could settle down. I'm dizzy, I'm shaking and my stomach ( even well before I ate ) is very unsettled. I know I need help, but I'm so afraid to go to the hospital. Is my ( insert mental disorder here ) face my tragic beauty?

tradition ritual

When I look
In the mirror
I think I like
What I see

Because it's all
getting clearer
What has become of me

I see scars
of every size
But the deepest
are in my eyes

Evil-lution
but no change
looks like I'm losing
My favorite game

That's ok, yeah
It's alright
because tomorrow's
another fight

and they're are lines
Upon my face
That tell tales
Of better days

Wrinkles forming
On my brow
What has become of me now

Crooked teeth
Behind my frown
Another family
hand-me-down

That's ok, yeah
It's alright
because tomorrow's
another fight

And there is pain!
And there is love!
And there is war!
when push meets shove

And there is hate!
And there is shame!
And there is no one else to blame!

But it's ok
yeah it's alright
because tomorrow's
another fight!

Another battle!
Another fight!
Another day of lonely nights!

party time

I'm hiding from you... all
You see me jump
but turn other way
melting me
your confusion
or delusion

Are you safe?
Am I?

Bake your bread on my shoulder
Weigh me down
The television is truth
enough for you
but not for me

simplicity is complex
you have no compassion
death to the story teller
death to the truth

Beside me I sit
Tangled in your lives
condemned
sleeplessnes
The heart of the matter
is you
is me

feel me yet?

Another song on the radio
can you dance
forget your problems
you have none
I'll stand against the wall
in silence
awkward clothes

waiting

my 122112 is not a hoax

I've just spent the past several hours looking online for two things. Support groups for mental health ( depression, personality disorders ) and a glimpse of hope in finding a real job. I'm so foolish to even try. The more I look the more obvious it becomes to me that there is but one way yo solve my problems.

I just can't imagine myself enduring much more of these failed attempts to find some sort of self-worth. I think I'm supposed to go back to work tomorrow, but honestly I don't even have a real job and I'm not even sure if I'll be able to wake up in the morning. I've had to struggle and fight myself just to find the energy to get out of bed each day.

Now my Dad is telling me that he needs financial help. I can't even afford to take care of myself with the money I make. My car is having problems and I don't even know how I'm gonna get it fixed or how long it will be until I can't drive it anymore.

I've never been able to do anything right. Why even today while I was pumping gas into my Dad's work truck the fuel spilled on my new shoes. I tried to make a sandwich for lunch and dropped some of it on the floor. I even spilled the milk at breakfast. Anyway I shouldn't even be eating because I'm so fat.

I know this all sounds so pathetic, but like I've said before; no one will ever read this garbage anyway. It's just that I have always had trouble putting my feelings into verbal words. I've always felt better writing my feelings down. Although sometimes even this can be a challenge as my mind sometimes is incredibly inefficient at being able to comprehend its' own thoughts.

My nerves are so frayed that even someone coughing in the other room causes me to tense up. I'm falling apart. I am just so tired of my life. I'm sure nobody's life is exactly what they imagined it to be like as a child, but still many people are happy. I can't really find a reason to be happy except for the fact that I know God loves me. Besides that if I ever smile or laugh it makes me so mad on the inside. I don't deserve to be happy. Not even for a minute. I've done nothing that should merit a state of happiness.

I somewhat feel selfish for letting go. My niece may cry, but she will be alright. She's smart and beautiful and so unique that someone will no doubt love her someday in a way that I've never know. She will only miss me as a memory for a short time.

I will keep blogging until one of three things happen:

1) Someone will love me. I don't want someone to intervene because they " care " and don't want me to die. Everyone says that. Words are so light sometimes when they are read or rehearsed yet the weight of words of anger and drunkenness are crushing with unbearable force. So don't give me the speech you found on the internet about how you care or for me to think of others. Love me.

2) I find a feeling of self-worth. Be it in the form of a job. Someone to mentor
( which probably is not a great idea as I'm pretty unstable in mood ) or some amazing life transformation hahahahahahaha!

3) I finally quit writing about suicide and my pain. I finally quit rambling like so many before me in hopes that someone will feel me. I finally stop playing the broken record and say goodbye.

deep eyes

Oh oblivious child
You know not the pain you cause
Your smile is a dagger
cutting deep into my soul

Your eyes they drown me
I can smell you
I want to taste you
I live to dream you

You do not know me
You never will
Be here with me
soon

Understand me
love me
free me
complete me

A letter to the editor.

Well here it is; 2010 ( a space odyssey ).

It's January the second at about 9:30 at night and I'm sitting on the left side of my couch with my lap top, well, in my lap. I'm wearing a white button down shirt with a loosely worn blue tie, old jeans and some black etnies with lime green laces. I haven't shaved in over a week. I'm in a weird state of anxiety so I decided to write about my mood in no particular order.

As of now I feel very anxious as stated before and for some reason I also feel very un-optimistic about my future. I still can't seem to get a proper diagnosis of my
" mental condition " which means that there still is no hope of a proper treatment which means at the moment ( or ATM for you " others " ) there is no hope.

I feel like everything I try ends in failure. Well it has all ended in failure. I'm 36 years old and can't seem to hold on to one single friend. I have never even began to have a healthy relationship with a girl and every time a girl shows any signs of interest I instinctively run away as fast as I can.

I don't trust people and always feel as though they are " up to something " or that they hold unknown motives for showing interest in me or my friendship. Maybe part of the reason is because I give so much to others ( time, money, etc. ) that I dream of others returning the same sort of help and friendship. I know that these hopes are unrealistic, but still this is how I feel. Every time I've tried to give someone the benefit of the doubt they have let me down.

My work history has been unstable as well. I've had a few good jobs, but always lacked esteem towards myself, like it's never good enough ( what I do ) or I wish I could do better. Once I even got fired from a job for reasons I will never know, but coincidentally enough it was about a week after having an anxiety attack on the job. They told me I wasn't praying enough and to spend more time in the bible.

Deep inside I know it's me, but I also know it's everyone else too. No one is good enough or fair enough and everyone is all about themselves. I feel like my whole life I've just been a stepping stone for others. A free meal or someone to use. I have never earned a fair wage for my work except when I worked for HiFi Buys and the machine shop ( where I was fired from ).

Another thing that frustrates me about myself is that I am unable to cry. I haven't cried since around the age of 13. I'm not sure what the psychological reason behind this fact is.

I've achieved many of the goals I've striven for in my life and every time I've
" reached the top " it has meant nothing to me. I can remember a time in my life when I was so tired of being alone and fat that I set out to get in shape. I knew that people, especially women, are a very superficial breed and my only chance of even being noticed was to build my body to perfection. I did just that. I spent well over a year trimming from 280 plus pounds to a solid, muscular 155. Still hardly anyone noticed. I gave up and let myself go again. Misery weighs the same no matter what the individual weighs.

I also think it's funny how I write to get things off my chest, but these words will never be read or understood by anyone but me. I mean who really takes enough interest in someone else to read their thoughts unless that someone is maybe Justin Beiber or Madonna or Michael Jackson. Still here I am; getting it off my chest.

I've had vast swings of faith with God as well. I mean I've always believed in God and have been close enough to him to know without a doubt that he is real and did create me, but I've also been so angry at him that I've cursed his name. I guess the reason for those emotions are pure selfishness. I have spent too much time worrying about me instead of God. The funny thing is I've almost become dependent on my own misery.

I've tried to kill myself before and here lately there hasn't been a single day where I don't think about it. I've even sat down and researched ways of ending my life and come up with an easy, painless way. Sometimes it scares me to know that I could do it right this very minute. Still I'm hanging on, maybe with a false sense of hope.

I've been abusing my body a lot more than usual lately with binge eating and tobacco. There are times when I don't even shower. Sometimes I barely sleep at all because I can't and other times I'll sleep ten or more hours. I don't want to work anymore. Things have gotten really slow at work therefore my hours have been nonexistent which has made me completely apathetic towards work. Besides the fact that I'm not good at what I do and to this day have no idea why my boss would even want to keep me around. In fact I've only really been good at a few things in my life, but I've never been the best at anything.

I am so afraid of sex that I find it almost impossible to become aroused. I have no idea why. Maybe it's my weird attractions that hinder me.

I feel as though there are very few people alive or dead for that matter whom have ever seen the world the way I do and that is very discouraging to me. I desperately search for an equal, but fear that none will ever cross my existence.
I've always felt trapped in me; in my life. Along with feeling trapped in myself I feel destined to be alone and that scares me.

There is no one else in this world that angers me as much as my Father, but there is also no one else in this world that loves me more than him and I've lived with him my entire life and when he's gone I don't think I'll be able to make it without him; especially not alone. I really feel as though if I don't have someone close to me at the time of his death that I may also die out of sheer anxiety and depression. I'm sure I will have so many regrets to live with that it will be overwhelming. I've always told him that you can't take back words and that is just as true to all of us, he and I.

People anger me. I sit here alone like this very, very often and wonder constantly, " What is wrong with me? ", " Why doesn't anyone like me? " I feel like I'm slowly falling out of my prime and that my talents and loves are not only unseen, but unwanted.

I wish someone would stumble upon this blog and reach out to me. I wish someone would sincerely show me that they care about me; that they're interested in me and what I have to say.

If I had money I would almost be willing to pay someone to love me because that may be the only way someone would slow down enough to look.

Sometimes I think that if I killed myself my blog would become popular and people would say things like, " It was so obvious. " or " He was such a beautiful person; I wish I would have known him. " or maybe even something like, " What a great mind, he is the kind of guy I can only dream about. ", but alas I doubt even if I did take my own life that anyone would even sit through the news report if there even was one.

Sometimes I think I could be so significant and yet I know that I'm truly insignificant. I don't know if that makes sense, but nobody will ever see this but God and I and we both know what it means.

Look at this, it's after ten O'clock and still I'm alone on a Saturday night like so many Saturday nights before. I'm dressed and anxiously waiting for something to do, but I know that in a few hours I'll be miserably crawling under the cover in silence and despair.

I know I'm a good person, but I also know that something is wrong and it is literally killing me having destroyed my life to date. My childhood was stolen from me and my teen years were a blur. My twenties were consumed with alcohol and rage and now in my thirties all I can recall is sadness and disappointment.

In the end I wonder if I'm responsible for how I feel today. I wonder if it's my view of the world that keeps me from living in it or am I really so boring that I'm truly a waste of effort to even know.

I guess it really doesn't matter because here I am having wasted over a half of an hour blogging to myself only to feel worse than when I began in the first place.

Maybe I'll get mad. I do that often. Sometimes the smallest thing will sent me into a fit of rage. Something so insignificant as dropping a pill bottle on the floor will have me spewing words that could waken the devil. Sometimes I spend hours looking in the mirror, changing clothes and yelling at my reflection. My reflection is a truth and truth, however sharp and revealing is nothing more than fact and fact is rarely painless. Even when I was very fit I still had the face of an ogre.

Oh well at least I've spent time tonight doing something. I can't say it beats the alternative because what alternatives do I really have? Surf the internet? Commit suicide? All viable options and still equally harmless to the world around me.
Sometimes I think about the impact my death would have on my Father, but then I'm reminded of the fact that he's 65 years old and in bad health so he will not have a lot of years to suffer. He also has his sister to console in as she too lost a child to mental illness. I just don't want him to blame himself even though he is part of the " big picture " I forgive him because he is somewhat ignorant and oblivious to my emotions and also how to deal with them or his owns for that matter.

I only hold hatred for a few in this world, but none more that the hatred I hold towards myself. I've created a monster piece by piece and day by day since early childhood. Struggling sexuality, confiding in the wrong people as I reached out for help and giving to those who only take are are faults in my existence. I've searched all over the internet for theories on how God sees my life and how he would react to my death and according to my results it seems that God would not have me. I don't like to believe that, but if it's true then why would I want to to wait to die? If it's true that God does not see me or hear me ( which I believe he does ) then what is the reason for long suffering? I see none, but still I pause and hope. I hesitate to ask God for help sometimes. It's not that I doubt him because I don't, but I also know that even though at times he can bring me great joy the world still has to knock me down to reality and the reality is that this is where I live. This is where we all live.

I'm so jealous of the happy ones. Even now as I write this I can see those guys at the bar smiling, smoking a cigarette. They are all drunk and cursing and talking about girls and who they want to fuck and who they fucked and how much money they have and how crazy I am and the girls; The girls talk about how ugly I am.

I'm not stupid in that respect. I know how the one-eyed world sees me. I'm nothing more than the butt of a joke. Someone to talk about and spread rumors.

Even when I lost all that weight the rumor around town was that I " snorted : my way to a lighter stature. HA! I guess the truth is boring. Oh no, wait! The truth is here in the letter. The proof is right here! You have to dig for the truth and let's face it, you need a mighty big shovel to get to the bottom of this page let alone to the bottom of the " truth ".

Maybe I'm just a confused smart ass. Maybe I'm just a self-centered bastard. Maybe I really am crazy. Maybe no one will ever know or even care to do so.