There was a time when I was god – I was serious, confused and alone – my only conclusion that i drew upon witnessing everyone’s day to day lifestyles, was that I was in fact god – the son of god, at the very least.
What was even stranger was that I think I convinced a few people to believe me – something in my erratic semi-alcoholic nonsense made a difference in their lives – I gave them some truth, clarity and understanding – whatever it is people look to god for, I had a piece of it – smug and conceited – if they didn’t understand me, if they didn’t get it, that was the drunken laughing voice of god in my mind – it made me feel great – I felt alive and in touch – in synch with the universe and every little absurdity of life on earth somehow made sense to me, and made me feel whole – the one and only.
They listened to what I had to say – they read what I had to write – they saw what I had to show – looking back at it now, as I sit in my bed wearing my bed-clothes and drinking a beer with some sad music playing, I wonder what they were really thinking, as opposed to what I thought – the filtered expressions of art appreciation – the friendships relying purely on tolerance - the forced smiles and the whispered conversations that took place soon after I passed out pathetically drunk and alone at their parties – they were such good and friendly people, too good for me and my arrogant state of mind – thankfully this meant they all had a lot of friends – a lot of friends other than me – and nothing speaks the truth more than a friend of a friend, and the night you first meet them.
I enjoy being upset – I love being heartbroken and I love being love sick – misery gets me out of bed in the morning, and it drags be back late at night, when I’ve run out of music, movies, beers, and reasons to distract myself – when I disappoint people, I feel I’ve accomplished something and been true to myself – I envision my future and my life as an old man – wasted opportunities, talent diminished, and all those mistakes i made – fossilised forever with the rest of them – somehow all of this makes sense to me, and seems okay – this is the natural way of things – for me– a small happily lonely black hole, slowing down and falling asleep with the tv on again.
I’ve given up explaining this to people I know – some joke about how depressed I am - but I'm not depressed at all – I'm quite content and happy with who I am – but what if I really was depressed? – what about all the people out there who are depressed? – do they have to put up with the same obvious statements every second day? It annoys me to think about it – why does everyone have to change everyone elses mind? – why do they keep saying that everyone has a right to their own opinions? If everyone was to think, act live and be as I am, was and will, the world will be as it should’ve been.
No comments:
Post a Comment