For Crying Out Loud

    Sometimes, the least expected people disappoint us.  As life moves ever forward, as our hearts become evermore calloused, we grow to expected and anticipate those near and dear to us will eventually fail us in some way.  Yet the casual friend, the one you share a few interests with and enjoy occasional time together, these people you never really expect to be hurt by.  Indeed, you wonder if they even can, as there is so little investment.
    Somehow though, when it does happen, it can leave you feeling blindsided and dazed.  This person who you shared just a basic friendship with throws it back in your face, rejection you could not anticipate.  You stew in your confusion and wonder “why?”
    In the greater losses, I’ve wondered why I’m not worthy of being someone’s person, lover, or spouse.  Yet never have I really felt rejected from just being a friend.  Sitting, thinking, striving to understand what makes me not worth the smallest of relationship.
    This experience has bugged me far more than I’d like to admit.  The power over me I’ve given this person is absurd, and yet I can’t just let it go.  At least not now.
    I am not lacking in friends, or people to surround myself with, and still I feel incredibly alone at the end of this.  Something that barely crossed my mind now consumes me.  Perhaps this is just another test from the universe.  A quick jab to expose another soft spot in my armor.
    The truth is, I’m so tired of being armored.  I’m so sick of keeping up my guard.  Time to just drop it I suppose, and if the world wishes to bleed me dry, so be it.

A War of Grace

    Being gracious isn’t something that just happens.  You don’t wake up one day and suddenly no longer want revenge or punishment for those who have wronged you.  It takes work, every day, every breath at times.
    I have been complemented much this last year over grace.  People respect the kindness I fight to maintain in my heart.  Some may think this is just my natural state of being, but those who’ve known me long understand this was not a characteristic I’ve always had.
    Years ago, I was possessed by undirected hate.  I hated everything.  Myself, those around me, the very world and existence.  This is still a battle in me.  Blood and carnage litter my soul over this small scrap of peace I have been able to carve out.  A bastion of calm in a never ending maelstrom of emotion.  Darkness still swirls around me, threatens to consume me, but I cling to this place of kindness.
    As broken and weary as I become, as long as I have this grace, I claim victory.  Those who hurt me do not dictate who I am.  Fears and loneliness do not control me.  I am a kind man.  Despite it all, this is how I choose to define myself and live my life.

Becoming Nothing

    This world was made to disappoint us all.  I dream of places, situations and a life far beyond what could be, and wake to this dead reality daily.
    I have such hopes for so many people that are never lived up to.  When people fail us again and again, how are we expected to become anything but cold and cynical?  When it seems the world is out to get us, how do we stop trying to strike back?
    Hindered by expectations that become my reality, I feel a cripple in this realm.  To a point where I truly don’t know how long I can continue on.  Reasons for happiness I at times have feel petty and foolish on these darker days.  I fear there may be truth to my thoughts, “Nothing is real, nothing is permanent.”
    We will all die and turn to dust, and this seems to bring me some strange comfort.  None of what we do matters, so try as we might, we can’t really screw it up too badly.  Even the globe we inhabit will eventually be obliterated, scattered into the cold void.
    I feel my inner nihilist growing stronger, rising up in me.  As he gains might, I succome to sloth and hopelessness.  And without hope, I become truly nothing.