Sometimes the title says it all, and sometimes it’s all cryptic bullshit. There is something painful to good writing, just as there is pain often found in a great life.
I gave myself a good scare today, maybe for good reason, and maybe for no reason at all. For as happy as I’ve been lately, free in every way I’ve ever believed I wanted to be, it seems that I am still scared as a cat.
Good people, who either love me or want my best interests at heart, have been checking in asking me in one way or another, “Well, what are you going to do?” And the truth is, I am doing it in the best capacity I know how.
As I’ve said, I’m learning more now than I ever have before – for better and worse. I remember once telling my ex-girlfriend about how narcissistic the world really is, and I think it scared and confused her because she hadn’t realized it before – and once you see it, you can’t forget it. Well, you’ll forget it, but it’s always there in some way or another.
I am no smart man, maybe a good one on good days, but I feel dumb in knowing there is still so much more to know, and knowing very little about how to go on about doing it.
Sure, I listen to Mozart before bed to know his work, and read books to know what they say, and to say those words myself. But, it starts to remind me of a shakespeare quote about alcohol, “[Alcohol] provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.” – Macbeth.
Well Sobriety, if I need a scapegoat word to explain it, it provokes the performance but takes away the desire. What a miserable life to be so happy and well learned without any new experience to share. And I suppose, I resort to looking back into the past for more water from its drying well.
I don’t blame being sober, I blame myself. You can’t change who you are, you might find out more about yourself, but you’ll be just a different version of the same person in the end.
I’m not hopeless, tonight a bit sad, but that’s a good thing. Death just seems like it is waiting for me, and I might as well skip to the end for good.
I am not afraid of the pain, I am in love with it. I’m tired of writing words to fill the absence of pain. I lost my scarf tonight. I hope I let it go. It’s not a love story, it just looks like one.
Ben Bonkoske 