fail

i fail as a teacher - for not being the one who makes them learn

i fail as a friend - for not being the one they want to talk to, or spend time with, or confide in, for always coming second (or third, or fourth, if any)

i fail as a student - for not completing my requirements, for not wanting to finish my program

i fail as a mentor - for not being able to teach what i have learnt

i fail as a lover - for not being memorable

i fail as a significant other - for not being pretty enough, or important enough, or loving enough, or lovable enough

i fail as a person - for not being good enough to get a job

i fail as an acquaintance - for not being likable enough to become a friend

i fail at so many things, it's not even funny anymore

i feel like such a waste of oxygen

double standards

money, value, availability, worth, age, happiness, love, maturity, distance, importance, time, ability, devotion, tiredness, interest, anger, truth, friendship.

i guess it's all relative.

i guess i ruined it. it was going so well.

me and my stupid mouth.

the joy of driving at night

That idea, then, is night in a nutshell: It's a universal experience that thrives on its abstract essence. Like the automobile, night is a gloriously subjective thing; because it lacks definition and clarity, it's free to be all things to all people. And there's no better way to see it than from a car.

What does it mean to us? Simple: To drive is to remind ourselves that we are alive, and to drive at night is to remind ourselves, in every sense of the phrase, that we are not asleep. So go. Roll the windows down, throw the sunglasses into the glovebox, and venture forth into blackness. It may be dark, but if you can't see the world around you, you're not looking hard enough.

[sam smith - original here]

ugh

sitting by the heater, trying to warm up.

i have protection for the cold outside, but there seems to be no solution for the ice inside.

it's like being told you only have 6 months to live. at least that is how it feels to me, right now.

what now?

when those i trust are away, offline, unreachable, or busy with something better. what now? who do i go to? only a handful of weeks left, and i sit here, alone.

what now?

let me rest among the rainbows

when i die, please spread my ashes at angel falls.

[screenshot taken from DC "planet earth" documentary]

[more about angel falls here]

hopeful new year

just like it started, it's about to end.

in solitude.

and i'm here, in my room, alone with a nice bottle of champagne. alone with chocolate pudding, made for no reason. alone with your favorite chocolates.

once again, i lost.

if not to someone else you'd rather be with, to something else you'd rather do.

lost the job opportunity i thought i had.

not good enough, for anybody, or anything, i guess.

i want to lose the ability to care.

things could have been different, with company, conversation, laughter.

support.

would have been different, if i hadn't chosen to protect you.

priorities.

could have been different, if.

wishful thinking.

but alas.

one more sip.

one more smoke.
they help to cope with the loneliness.

this is the end, beautiful friend.

this is the end, my only friend.

the end.

3...

2...

1...

gone.

disappointments are inevitable;

misery is optional.

Prayer

do not stand at my grave and weep;

i am not there, i do not sleep.

i am a thousand winds that blow.

i am the diamond glints on snow.

i am the sunlight on ripened grain.

i am the gentle autumn rain.

when you awaken in the morning's hush

i am the swift uplifting rush

of quiet birds in circled flight.

i am the soft starts that shine at night.

do not stand at my grave and cry;

i am not there, i did not die.

[12/9/96-12/9/09]

there is a light that never goes out

take me out tonight
where there's music and there's people
and they're young and alive
driving in your car
i never never want to go home
because i haven't got one
anymore

time to go

to sleep

to never wake

see you on the other side

i'll wait for you

in that fleeting moment

between slumber and awakening

where nothing hurts anymore

tried to convince myself that i didn't need it, but i guess i do; apparently it's all i have left.

how am i supposed to compete with that?

the million dollar hotel

the heart is a sleeping beauty, and love the only kiss it can't resist. even if its eyes lay open wide, there is a heart that sleeps inside. and it's to there you must be hastening. for all hearts dream, they dream only of awakening.

[tom tom - tmdh]

sanctuary

lying here in my sanctuary

days go past and it's autumn already

and i wish it would thunder

oh high up here in my sanctuary

days go past and it's autumn already

and i sit here and wonder

one can only hope

It has gradually been driven home to me that I cannot be of help to [a] troubled person by means of any intellectual or training procedure. No approach which relies upon knowledge, upon training, upon the acceptance of something that is taught, is of any use. These approaches seem so tempting and direct that I have, in the past, tried a great many of them. It is possible to explain a person to himself, to prescribe steps which should lead him forward, to train him in knowledge about a more satisfying mode of life. But such methods are, in my experience, futile and inconsequential. The most that they can accomplish is some temporary change, which soon disappears, leaving the individual more than ever convinced of his inadequacy.

The failure of any such approach through the intellect has forced me to recognize that change appears to come about through experience in a relationship … If I can provide a certain type of relationship, the other person will discover within himself the capacity to use that relationship for growth, and change and personal development will occur.

[Carl Rogers]

the way things are

in a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day

[f. scott fitzgerald]

there were days - it seems so long ago now - when waking up in the morning brought along a good feeling of willingness to go to work, spending time in class, interacting with young minds, seeing friends, spending time outside. now, waking up (and going to bed) is ridden with anguish. what-ifs float around, loud as thunder in the silence of the night, sharing their noise with car alarms, vehicles speeding on the freeway, the 2 am train, sprinklers. the hours spent in bed before sleep takes over are filled with imaginary situations, none of them positive, studying possible outcomes, possible ways out, looking for doors and safe exits.
the short walk to work has new company now. palms that get sweatier the closer i get to campus, shakier with each step. each shadow an enemy; the eyes that used to wander from plants to sidewalk now scan the surroundings from every angle, in the vane hope of foreseeing the unforeseeable. it's an unwelcome paralysis in what used to be a pleasant routine. the perception of danger is behind every blind corner, brought on by the slimmest shadows, the tiniest noise, doors closing, doors opening, voices. a safe world now infected. it's surprising what a mere presence can do to a scarred soul.
every step is now dragged, slower, calculated, the body wrapped in heavy movements, as if saving the energy for a quick defense move, a fast run, a loud scream. the only sanctuary of safety is a small room - a golden cage is still, sadly, a cage - where the ear never fails to listen, assisting a body constantly scanning the floor's slightest vibrations brought about by steps on the stairs outside. the closer they get, the faster the heartbeats. shivers leave when they fade. i sit in the dark, thinking, breathing, rationalizing; mind wandering to dark places, phone always at arm's length. eyes water unexpectedly, panic finding its way out in liquid form from every pore. i speak less. i breathe less. i eat less. i sleep less. i dream less. i laugh less. i live less. i just hide.
a debilitating sense of loneliness comes about, born from the desire to have someone here, some company, some comfort, what if what if what if. the terror of being caught alone, unprepared, would anybody hear? would anybody notice? the desire to speak, to voice all this, mangled by the dread of being perceived as pathetically exaggerating the issue. a hand stretched out meets only emptiness.


and as i smoke yet another one, looking up at the moon hiding behind eucalyptus leaves, breathing in the cold air of the late, late night, i silently, tearfully wonder what tomorrow will bring.