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Pressing the edge of the glass to my lips

I attempt to escape this inescapable thing,

This ever present thing, that leads me to believe that healing is an elusive dream,

Like perfection,

Objectivity,

Or justice.

Aspirational goals meant to motivate us to action,

To distract us from the existential threat

That truth Brings.

People are a disappointment,

Joy is always tempered with sorrow,

With pain.

The only way to escape fear is death,

And the indifference it brings.

The list is long and overwhelming,

The ledger is red,

And few are interested in balancing the scales.

They all want to win.

They take more than they give,

And believe they deserve it all.

So quick to judge,

So quick to betray,

So quick to cast the blame on another,

Choosing to embrace what they know is untrue

Because gaslighting is easier than accountability;

Because harming others is much more preferable than acknowledging the truth

And the shame it brings.

These things are easy to understand,

Though difficult to accept.

My soul rebukes these things like the devil;

They cramp up my insights and spew out of my heart like a flood,

Projectile vomit seeking to render the world a darker shade of green,

Coloring my dreams a darker hue.

What am I doing here?

What am I doing here?

What am I doing with my life?

Each step I take on this meandering road has been a double edged sword.

A journey…yes

Indeed it’s been good…sometimes a treat

A privilege for sure,

And a burden.

A dark grief,

A sorrow,

A magical moment or two can make you forget

That she was unable to hold you close for very long;

That he was unable to protect;

That she cast you as a villain the moment you were born;

That she was too hurt to understand that her opportunity to create great men was always there,

Bright eyes and wanting,

Innocent in their ignorance,

Poisoned by misandry,

Proving that violence begets violence

And therefore perpetuates the flame.

I can’t say I’m any better.

It hurts in ways I’m still trying to wrap my mind around.

Somehow I’ve become the perpetual punching bag 

An eater of every sin expressed on another 

Scapegoat,

Marked from the beginning and ever since.

They keep trying to force me into roles that suit their goals,

And all I want is peace…

What am I doing here?

What am I doing here?

What am I trying to prove?

That I am worthy of the thing I so freely give?

Grace?

Understanding?

A listening ear?

A safe space?

Love?

I chose to be a healer in a world too broken to mend,

With people too determined to self destruct to save,

Folks too blind to recognize an an asset,

An ally,

An advocate…for those that have proven over and over and over that they are unwilling or unable to acknowledge that I’m human too,

And one cannot pour from an empty well,

And my well has run dry.

But why?

Why have I continued to try to be a good guy to those that are unworthy?

A rage simmers deep

Mulling over like a rich spiced wine

And yet,

It remains held at bay

Sigh…

I’m beginning to think my Scorpio was Right the whole time…

This empathetic fish is pathetic!

Naïve in the belief that anything I do would be appreciated, respected, or understood.

Perhaps it’s time to cut my losses and embrace a nihilistic view like so many others,

And temper my words,

And dim my light a bit…to escape their view

Then perhaps I can obtain a small moment of peace, 

I think to myself quietly

While sitting by the window of my cave,

Twilight quickly fleeing away

Again pressing the edge of the glass to my lips

As the night replaces the day

Written by scribblez84

October 8, 2024i