Rising to a sound of hurried voices speaking hurried words I slowly stumble to a gray floor out of a gray bed. Overwhelmed with exhaustion I slowly pull myself up into a world in a state of turmoil. Gas shortages. War. Insecurity. Three things that make our world, our 21st century world turn on its small axis. Sometimes I realize this, some time it takes a cup of coffee. More slowly then steadily I make my way up and out of the small confinements called a bed room and find myself looking into a mirror, what a hideous image, but of coarse its all you have to work with. 15 minutes and a banana nut muffin bar latter I’m the closest you'll ever find me to being ready for a day of complete nothing but of coarse even nothing is something. This is my life in a nut shell, but I guess I’ve gone to far lets start from as far back as I can remember.
Around five I moved to hell on earth a small city called Nashville, I know not that small compared to Melbourne, FL but hey it was a hellhole. I lived in the run down ghetto area of this steaming metropolis where my dad worked two jobs and my mom worked as a childcare specialist for various stars that happened to live in the city. We quickly moved from the urban dwellings to an area right outside of the city called Green hills. This is where I realized what a suburb was. It was green but had large buildings and was a mere 20 minutes away from the hustle and bustle of the inner city. I was in heaven. The house we lived in, if you want to call it a house, was complete shit but I could’ve lived in a pile of horse dung in green hills and I would’ve cared less. Slowly these great things of suburbs were brought to an end with a melancholy town called Antioch. This town a supposed suburb but I saw it as a death trap. There were shootings at schools and the city was 45 minutes or more away. This dismal little place was starting take a wear on me. I slowly felt myself slipping from reality and falling into an alternate fiction that I was making up in my mind. These false lives were starting to really pull on me more and more. I felt as though I was alive but I wasn’t me. All of this changed that one-day, that one day my mother was told the new that changed her life forever. We moved back to great American small town Melbourne with the terrible news of my grandfathers passing. I was thrown into dismay realizing that I was the only one that didn’t cry. Don’t get me wrong I loved him, hell he was my grandfather, but for some reason I just didn’t cry. It was meritocracy that did this to me.
After moving I started school and found my first true love, music. It came in the form of an eighth grade orchestra class along with a crappy bass guitar and an amazing amplifier. I slowly got better but reached a cap in orchestra. I could move any more in that sluggish class and started to slack more and more pushing me farther behind in this so called “life”. Slowly I fall into the deep waters of mediocre talent and start to give up on the one thing I love. With every song sound like every other song I started pushing myself into a depression. “Why can’t I do this”, that was the simple question, why? Well that’s what this is to find out. This is my story, a slow boring story.
I keep this sad excuse of a journal for my own personal pleasure of knowing that I am alive, that this is me typing these words, writing these sentences. Knowing that this isn’t some shitty dream I’ve been having. Feeling more awake when I’m asleep and more asleep when I’m awake I slowly find myself thinking that maybe this isn’t really happening. Maybe this is all in my head and that I’m possibly just making this all up whilst I sleep. Either way this is how I make it real. I start off every day following the same fucking routine. I wake up ten minutes late and make my way to the bus. Like usually I had a song playing in my head all day. Of course it sounds familiar just like every other one of my songs like I’ve heard it before but I’m not sure. Lyrics pulsating through my brain I wrote about an image I saw a few days ago of a mass of people at the bottom of a river in Iraq. It made me feel like I was totally useless; that everything I do is for nothing. My life, my dream to grow up and use my love of music to make something in which I can be proud of, something in which I can look back on and say “Wow, remember that” and really remember exactly what I was thinking, what I was feeling at that moment. But every single day I give up more and more on that dream. I feel like everything I do is total shit because there’s a system and you can break the system because once you break the system you are the system, and I’m no leader. I might be a poet, philosopher, writer whatever you wish to call me but I’m no leader. I fell things slipping from me, things losing importance and theres nothing I can do about it. Nothing brings me joy anymore, nothing I do makes me happy. I feel like giving up and conforming to everything I hate because in the end you just can’t fight.
By the way I think I love her.
Current Music: smashing pumpkins-zero