February 12, 2010


The same problems have plagued me since I was a baby. I get backed into a corner, hoping someone will grab me. All I hear is maybes. Am I just crazy? Have my morals betrayed me? These things hurt me but I deny it. The people that gave me inspiration now destroy it. How can I ever become the man I should’ve when all I hear is could’ve. Could’ve done this, could’ve done that. Expectations are a bitch, even worse than payback. I try to be the bigger man but it never seems to be enough. I tell myself integrity betrayed me. Do I brush off my sleeve and say its not my fault? Where did the chip come from? I hate it. I should be great but lately I just feel late. Late to solve the problem, late to fix the drama. Why do I feel obliged to fix the life that surrounds me? Is it all a pipe dream? Am I just blowing off steam? I can’t tell what it means but it makes me so so mean. I let my rage out on this keyboard because I don’t want to go to jail. So many people walk around with hurt and hate yet, feel great. Why do I feel bad for being good? Why am I so good at being bad? I don’t care what people think but I prefer the middle road. Why make me an enemy when we could be compadres?

The whole fiasco hurts me soul. Do I care about all of you or do I care about losing control? It’s not my job to be in the middle. Their problems become mine and I go from being fine to hating each line - of bullshit - that you give me. You look up to me and I look down on you. I fill your trough with hope and you snort it up with dope. Where does drunk talk end and real advice begin? I’m not a healer I’m a stealer, a thief. I steal your problems and make them my own. Fuck! We’re already grown. I used to love you. You were my friend. Why did I put all that work in? My vanity is destroying my insanity. I feel great by feeling your hate. I’m your superior because I keep you in that hole. I made you inferior. It doesn’t matter if what I say is true. Between me and you we’re both stuck in the slop. Objectively, you’re the one down there. I try to lend a hand but your head remains in the sand. I’m a problem solver. That’s what I was put here for. You’re dependent on me. You’re incapable of fixing your position and I pretend to sit and listen. I spew good advice. I spew  bile. I want you to make it but you never will. I’m your crutch. You must know I don’t really give a fuck. I need you to remind me that my problems aren’t as bad as yours. But, I love you. Keep your head up. Make it. Prove my tirade faulty. Take that adversity and become strong. I see your potential but you don’t. I’ll keep reminding you that I’ll stand by you. Secretly, I’m standing  far behind you.
Image taken from: http://www.cretarolodesign.com/portfolio_cindy.php


  1. WOW. Excellent writing; Of course. How I feel about it, Uhhh, I'm not sure. It kind of scares me.

  2. Very nice. It's like stream of consciousness poetry. It would be great to listen to it being read.

  3. Christopher, you probably know by now that I love this style of writing... the kind where we go deep inside and write what needs to be said. Lovely and intimate and very profound!


  4. The Me: It scares me a little too.

    Carol: Maybe I'll do a youtube recording of something I've written sometime.

    Nevine: Thanks so much, Nevine. Your writing always captivates and makes me look at things from a raw point of view.

  5. Amazing.

    I find that sometimes I deal with similar feelings.


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