Even I have become numb to my ramblings. They are occasionally insightful for my own behalf, but a rough couple thousand words later, I know nothing new, am doing nothing different, and have only depleted my sex drive to write, all the while more or less alienating an audience of 1. Perhaps it is time to move on, give up, accept that things would be better off without my little pleas to the galaxy that I am important, different, and audible. I took a nap today for christaske, and that, though slightly disheveling and out of the ordinary was the highlight. The most meaningful things in my life are dreams. If I am afraid to achieve them because nobody is listening, it may be disheartening to see that I am crazy. A tragic artist before I was formally published. I say I don’t care about such things but deep down I am embarrassed of everything I’ve written. Not that I don’t think it isn’t good, it’s not, it just is a great example of my hubris. I think of myself less often, and you the more. I enjoy my long walks but avoid the beach. I oddly have made a lot of friends on the tv screen.
It is not the evenings, the end of my days that worry me, although stumbling upon one without much to my credit of accomplishments is daunting. It is everything in between the rise and the sun disappearing. Bland. Like unseasoned oatmeal. Oh, who am I kidding, even oatmeal with brown sugar is boring to me. I want chili’s for breakfast. I am a spice master a·fi·ci·o·na·do. It is the season to wear my olive sweater that I love every day. I shouldn’t excuse myself from reality, but I doubt it would have me. I have likened myself to a vampire more than once, but I worry the greatest similarity between us is that I am alone, dead inside, without blood to impress my loved ones. It just dawned on me that I am going to have to explain that I have done nothing with my life with my family at Thanksgiving. I suppose it is no worse than my manic episodes that I’ve incurred in the past. A broken down depleted streetcar named desire. I’ll try harder.
It is a lifelong process – learning to live with oneself.
Ben Bonkoske 