Fucked up life.

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WARNING

This is a blog post of me bitching about life. If you don't want to hear it, don't read it. You've been warned.

END WARNING

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A few weeks ago, I texted an old friend of mine because she popped up in my thoughts. She said she was where she thought she'd be at this point in her life, and I have to say I agree. I'm at a breaking point right now, myself, and I'm not sure what to do anymore. Here's a list of my current grievances with life.

1. I'm stuck living at home with my parents.
2. Said parents do not have AC, and have not all summer. Texas summers are routinely over 100 degrees, and the nights, though cooler, arn't much better when the insulation keeps the heat from the day inside. In other words, I'm slowly cooking every minute I'm at home.
3. Being overheated all day has caused minor dehydration issues throughout the day, as well as making me feel sick whenever I'm home for more than an hour. As well, being in the heat all the time has severely crippled my appetite, and I haven't eaten more than a few bites of food a day (if anything) in the past month. I've actually lost weight to the point where I need new pants (and I'm already skin and bones.)
4. My laptop hard drive fried, and in order to repair it, I need to buy a new copy of Windows 7, which runs around $200. As well, I lost literally everything - resume, portfolio pictures, personal documents, everything.
5. The majority of my friends have moved to Austin, which, while great for them, leaves me lonely more than I'd like.
6. My California trip, which was supposed to be my graduation present, was postponed again. It was originally planned for June, then got pushed to July, now it's late August/early September. We'll see if it even happens at all.
7. I feel as though I wasted 4 years of my life at college. I am in absolutely no way prepared to work as a professional Audio Engineer. The internship I did did not help and has left me jaded to trying another.
8. My car is in exponentially increasing bad shape. Upon driving home, it has decided it wants to shake violently every time it idles, to the point where I no longer feel as though it's drivable.
9. I will likely have to quit my new job, as it's a delivery job and my car has decided I don't need money right now (it's very, very wrong, I desperately do.)
10. I'm broke, there arn't many jobs coming for Austin, and see above for the problem with my most recent job.
11. I'm completely head over heels for a girl who sees me strictly as a friend, with no signs of that changing. This, perhaps, is nothing new for me, except this girl is in a whole other league than most of the women I've been attracted to in the past. As cliche as it sounds, she makes me want to be a better person, and I'd rather be just friends with her than date anyone else right now.
12. I've lost more friends this summer than I've made, which is awful considering I was actively trying to make friends all summer.

This summer has completely shaken my entire concept of Karma, as I've been nothing but kind and generous with my friends, my family, and strangers. I try not to talk about my problems too much, and hugely appreciate the people who've listened when I do. But, seriously, this isn't right. I'm tired of life stomping and kicking the shit out of me when I've done nothing to deserve it. I just want things to be normal for awhile, not good, not bad, just normal, because this "Let's see what we can do to make Bobby more miserable" game it's playing is shit. Thanks for listening, hit me up on my cell if you want to talk.

END BITCHING

Blacksmith

Copper wire
Golden chain
Silver lining
Full of shame.

Precious metals
Cracked gemstone
Furnace forged
But cast alone.

Stirrup and anvil
Hammer and tong
Blacksmith's err
Though never wrong.

Battle

Chasing demons
Chasing fears
Chasing thoughts you've fought for years.

Stand for battle
Stand your ground
Stand for those who aren't around.

Fight for forgiveness
Fight fair and kind
Fight for solid peace of mind.

Resolve the difference
Resolve your hate
Resolve yourself repair your fate.

Death, regardless
Death is near
Live your life or die in fear.

Rebecca

Vices, vices, everywhere
But not a virtue thought
This fucked up world
This fucked up life
A pretty trinket for the night
Give up your good
Embrace your fault
It's lonely out there on your cross
Let pleasure reign
Cave to desire
Find yourself in squalored splendor
It's just one evening
You will recover
Taste the whip my sweet endeavor.

Word Vomit

Thoughts are cancer
Spreading fast.
Find a cure
Fair physician.

I can't take these thoughts,
I can't stand my mind.
The pills make me mellow
But take away my bite.
I want to be whole,
I want to be at peace.
With myself
With you
With life.

This isn't a life
It's a cry for help,
Unheeded.
Yell from building,
Whisper in ears,
My tragedy is silence,
My salvation buried.

Grab a shovel,
Push the dirt,
Make a stone,
To mark the earth.
I'll come out when I'm ready,
Or die amongst the rocks.

Crystal's clear
And quartz is clouded.
I scream and cry
For rescue unfounded.

But hope is here,
Amongst the rubble,
Shining quaintly,
Tempting loudly,
A reach away,
But I'm too astray
To grasp it all alone.

Lend a hand
or lend an ear.
Help me, please
You'd want the same
And I for you
In a different game
But this is for me
Selfish as it may be
It's not formal
To be normal
So help me please
Before this tomb collapses.

Vanity

Pluck your eyebrows
Pick your teeth
Skin unblemished
Obsolete
Must be perfect
Must be right
Oh you will be quite the sight
When your hair falls out
From too much product
Face in lesions
Tweezers bloody
Skin and bones
And thoughts a'plenty
A worn out shell
Still chasing beauty
Perfect torture
Tortured perfection.

Summertime Blues

Flip-flops
Lemon drops
Taste the summer air.

Face your fears
Retort your jeers
Live life if you dare.

Mostly water
Cannon fodder
Flesh with bits of hair.

Filled with smoke
Until you choke
Pain that you can bear.

Sleep til noon
Talk with the moon
Stars the show they care.

Storytime

Before the humid night turns grey
And the crickets chirp grows mute
Tell me all your favorite tales
Of fancies, follies and pursuit.

Tell me of the massive book
That is your darling life
I'll listen on this sweat soaked bed
With the sun and moon at strife.

Impress me with a fine adventure
Or sadden me with sorrow
The night ends soon and after all
Who know what comes tomorrow?

And with your final graceful lines
The sun's rays break the pane
A final query about my role
Secondary character, or main?

Temptation

Arsenic and Roses
It's such a pretty sight
When you're staring down a barrel
On a long and lonely night

An itchy trigger finger
With an empty fifth of rum
A combination made for kings
A song the beggars hum

This empty night is getting hot
My body growing cold
Its such a shame to walk this path
Escape meant for the old.

Isolation

Isolation is to be stuck in a cage. A cage made of bars. The bars are spaced perfectly apart, so that from any given angle, the opposite side of the cage looks just large enough to squeeze out of. Freedom is just a tight squeeze away, all you need to do is step over to the other side and work your way out. But you can't. It's a petty illusion meant to give you a false hope, so whoever is looking onto your cage can be amused by you chasing the exit. And suddenly, as you cut off circulation to your lower half trying to squeeze through an impossibly small opening, you realize that where you were originally is just slightly wider than your current escape. But it's a lie, the illusion is all around, teasing the condemned.

The cage is the worst form of isolation. It's not because of the limitation of movement, it's because your senses tell you what it's like to be free. You can hear others chatting, your can see friendships forming out of raw air, sometimes, albeit rarely, you can even stretch your hand out and scrape your fingers on the sandpaper of others. The eyes play tricks on you. You see other people crawling from their cages, but you remain faithfully stuck inside yours. This gives you hope. Hope keeps you looking for your escape, but then you see that the others cages were just a single wall, or perhaps a few, and all they had to do was step around them. But your cage is made of six walls - Four on either side of you, a roof, and a floor. You're trapped, but can taste the freedom on your lips.

Hell they say, is what you make it. My hell, it seems, is to be trapped in this cage and watch life around me, while I can only grasp the bars and reach for hands that don't want me.