A Journey Maybe?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
You'll have to read it I guess

Submitted: August 05, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 05, 2009



What does it mean to be human…just where in this tragedy filled world is my miserable helpless self suppose to fit in. I think everyone has thought those words at some point in their life. Some low point where they where sick of dealing with shit. Other people’s shit, their own shit, shit they don’t know where it came from. I think it’s natural to have bouts of depression. It’s not a disease. It’s not an illness brought on by our bad circumstances. It’s a natural part of each human who has ever seen even a glimpse into the world in which we live in. But then of course if your human you know yourself and so of course you’ve seen the tragedy we all face. But why the morbid words? No don’t worry, I’m not gunna do anything stupid. What would that accomplish anyway, just make more shit for someone else to deal with and put them into the viscous cycle that did me in. Honestly I wish I could answer my own questions sometimes. I don’t know about the morbid words. I don’t even know why I’m writing this shit. Oh that’s right..’cause I thought somebody might care. Who knows…I could be right. But then again I could be wrong.


Who am I? What does that matter. Who are you? Do you know the answer to that? Maybe you should figure that out first before you go on. I wouldn’t bother though. It’s a question I’m still trying to figure out myself. I don’t think we’ll ever really know. I think sometimes we take life as a big question mark. A big “solve the mystery” style game as it where, each portion of our lives being another section to help us get closer to answering that question. Then suddenly we’re laying on our death bed and we still don’t have an answer, just a long line of things we’ve done and said and believed in. Everyone else knows who we are. Sometimes they tell us. They congratulate us and pat us on the backs when we’re doing something to make them happy, bitch us out when they need something more, and occasionally look to us for support when they think we might have something to make them feel better. Those tokens of affection however aren’t often noticed or remembered by our inner self though are they? Usually we throw those things out the window of irrelevance and try and focus harder on answering the question of who we are. Maybe you think I’m just blowing off into thin air with nonsensically shit, and maybe I am. But here me out, I doubt you’ll regret it.

You started reading this not so sure what I was trying to say didn’t you? You kept reading ‘cause you felt like some of it made a little sense. Maybe some of it lined up with your own thinking a little. Maybe you thought you’d find some answers. Well I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m actually writing this to find some answers myself. You’re more then welcome to come along if you’d like. Maybe you can find some answers with me. That’s what life is about right? Figuring out just who we are….

I stopped writing. It was late. It had been awhile since I last wrote. I lit a cigarette and sat down on the front step watching the smoke swirl slowly around my fingers. It was a hot night. The stagnant air just sat not moving the slightest. I don’t know why I was smoking. I never smoked. I just kept a couple smokes around for times like these when for some stranger reason I felt like smoking was the right thing to do. I hoped my writing was okay. It probably wasn’t. Usually I thought it was great and then somebody else read it and told me how much it sucked. I figured it be the same this time. Whatever. I’m sure I’d get over it. I liked writing ‘cause it helped get out everything that was always trapped inside of me. There is really only three things that really ever make me feel better when I’m upset; working out, drinking, and writing. Drinking usually just led to me feeling like crap later on or doing something stupid. Working out always helped but you can only work out for so long and sometimes it seemed sorta pointless. I was already jacked and working out was more of a stress reliever these days then anything. Why am I telling you this..it doesn’t really matter. Or does it. Maybe it does. I dunno, I guess we’ll see.

I put out my un-smoked cigarette and picking up my laptop went inside. It was dark inside. Everyone was sleeping. What’s new. I was always awake later then everyone else. It was the only time I could be alone. Be by myself and away from the noise and dizziness of life in my family’s house. I wasn’t tired, dammit. I hated not being tired when the rest of the world was asleep.
I wasn’t old enough to drink but that usually didn’t stop me. I could get it and I liked it so why not. Besides a couple shots in and it was totally worth the minimal risk. As long as you didn’t do anything stupid it wasn’t a big deal. I loved tequila. Mixed with some strong lemonade it was amazing. As I sat on the floor in front of the refrigerator I let my mind wander. I was bored. Bored of the same life I’d been living for so many years. Bored of going to school. Bored of not being satisfied. Bored of myself and my failures. I knew there had to be answers out there but I didn’t know what they were. I felt like I was always searching, always wondering, always looking somewhere new but never finding. I was tired of all that. Wait a second why the hell was their so much light in here…whatever maybe I was falling asleep. I couldn’t do this much longer, I couldn’t keep living this way. Something had to change. Oh my god this light is getting ridiculous. I hadn’t drank that much and there wasn’t suppose to be a light on. Standing up I looked around and the whole room seemed to swim before my eyes. Light was coming from everywhere. It was the most real, most daytime light I had ever seen in the middle of the night. It seemed to just permeate from every spot in the room intensifying in the very center. As I looked closer I thought I could see sunbeams and possibly trees waving in what appeared to be a strong wind. What the hell, this wasn’t happening and I knew it. Suddenly the light grew blindingly bright and I couldn’t help but stare. My eyes felt stuck open and though I knew I wasn’t moving I felt drawn towards the shimmering center of the room. It was getting so bright it hurt. I couldn’t stop looking but I wanted to more then anything. I had to get closer. I had to touch it. I reached out, and it was all dark. I fell to the ground and remembered nothing.

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