190 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
190 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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The jaws that bite, the claws that catch
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We have to, in some way, admire those elusive parts of ourselves. Those
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certain qualities be they thoughts, emotions, idiosyncrasies, what have
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you that we have either never reigned under control or have only in the
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best of times wrestled to the top of. There is something to respect about
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having piece of your own being that seemingly roams free of its own accord.
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While I, like most I'll assume, better appreciate the parts of ourselves
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that we have squarely under control, have a special place for the parts
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that inhabit us almost with a life of their own.
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Insecurity is one of those characteristics I caught slew almost entirely in
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the wild years ago, and have since mounted upon the wall of conquests
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within my head. It's form has been gutted of flesh and eyes replaced with
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pupils of glass that seem to follow wherever you go, as if from beyond the
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grave. That was a beast that appeared upon the near-unpopulated plains of
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within during the Great Self-Awareness that took place around 10 years of
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age. How it ravaged the Confidence that had just started roaming those
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vast, open areas at that age. Confidence didn't know to travel in packs at
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that time, and would attempt to stake out an area of territory by itself
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more often than not. This thinking made it easy prey. Insecurity wouldn't
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just kill it outright, it would play first. It would kill via wounding.
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Slowly carved, open, uncoagulating wounds that bled and weakened Confidence
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until it could do little more than lay down in surrender.
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How I despised both beasts back then. Insecurity for being so strong, so
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stealthy, and so completely through in its hunt; and Confidence for being
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so weak, so soft, and so susceptible - the perfect victim. I don't think
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there has been a battle since that left me so tired and depleted that I
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could barely marshal the forces to hunt and thus end the slaughter. It
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wasn't until 15 years had gone by before Insecurity in turn became the
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hunted, and pushed back into virtual extinction. It of course still
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exists, as it should. It must remain on the plains, balancing the chain of
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life within ourselves. It must be allowed to hunt off excess Confidence,
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lest Confidence blurs the land and overpopulates making us no smarter than
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population explosion of deer that have no room to move except in front of
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the passing cars. We let Insecurity continue to hunt to keep ourselves in
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check.
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That was one part of my own self that eventually fell under the gun of the
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Great White Psyche one of many rouge and unwanted parts of ourselves that
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we all learn to hunt. Be it from guidance, experience, wisdom, or tragedy,
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we all become keener hunters, and the prey easier to find in our sights. I
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don't claim to be particularly apt hunter, just a patient one. I also do
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not claim arrogantly that every part of myself hunted is easy prey. I am
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no better off in this regard than most. In fact, I have clearly come to
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face those parts that still live in the wilds of within that will take a
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great many years to come to terms with.
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The largest of which is loneliness. There is a great deal of difference
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between being alone and loneliness. I enjoy being alone. Being Alone was
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a beast that I domesticated rather that killed outright. It makes
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excellent companionship when broken properly. It can roam among the native
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parts of ourselves sleeping, eating, and co-existing without
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destabilizing the balance we strive so hard to achieve. While despondent
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and individual, it can still sit quietly at your feet like an old friend.
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Loneliness is a whole different beast. It is ambiguous, formless, and
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frightening when you feel it near you. It roams when and where is pleases.
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Into the Land of Happiness to foul and mark it, and down into the Valleys
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of Despair where it adds easily to hostile and inhospitable environment.
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It moves as it pleases, but not predictably nor in a planned manner.
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Sometimes it plays the myth: moving just out of sight, so that when you try
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to express it, it's hard to prove that it was there at all. Other times,
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it wears the clothing of other parts of ourselves. When we think the beast
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we see is anger, sadness, or loss, it is sometimes Loneliness wearing it's
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guise sometimes to the point we do not realize the ruse until it has past,
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or not at all.
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Then there are the times that in moves right into the center of ourselves,
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with no announcement and bold disregard for what it treads upon. It sits,
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stubborn and fearsome, so that any attempt to move it meets with failure,
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provided you can even summon the courage to make the attempt. It seems to
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sit perfectly still, but in fact it moves with terrifying speed almost
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beyond our perception. When Hope or Happiness try to make their rounds, it
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gobbles them up with the ferocity like that of the Jabberwock and
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absolutely like Jormungand. While it moves as if it does not want to be
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seen or caught in the act, it is in fact neither subtle nor ashamed of the
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act itself, smacking its lips and picking its teeth in plain view. It is a
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proud beast, and made so in its pride about what it does, and more
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importantly, by what it is.
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For all its much-flaunted might and power in can have over me, I do not
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fear it as I used to. Not because of what it is or what it represents, but
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because it is not a common beast. It is rare within me, only coming to
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feed once in the greatest of whiles. It exists more like a shark or lion
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in our lives: unlikely we will encounter one, but not a mythical creature,
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nor one to be trifled with. It has my respect because of what it is, and
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what it can do. I have come to realize that respect is sometimes
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misappointed given to things we are afraid of or less than, if only to
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curb the fear of the hold it can have over us
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Regardless, it nonetheless exists, and be it fear or respect it, I am
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painfully aware of its uncontrolled presence within myself and my life. I
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do not wish to hunt it outright, as I am unwilling most days to consciously
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face it. Yet, I must or at least begin to in some way.
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I see Loneliness in a possible future as if foretold in prophecy or in
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vision. I have come to contemplate or consider the possibility that I may
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come to a point in my life that I will be completely alone. Not that those
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I know and care about will cease to exist in some way, but they will
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continue on their way: making new friends and taking lovers so that they
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themselves will be enabled and prepared to fight of their own Loneliness
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when it comes. They will seek companionship be it lovers or
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husbands/wives as if they were arms, and perhaps the best for such a
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battle.
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I, as it is beginning to look, may not have availability of such arms at my
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disposal. As I said, I can content with the pet I have made of Being
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Alone, and enjoy my time with it considerably. As a result, I am not prone
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to the situations that would make companionship a possibility. I do not
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venture into the world often, and when I do, it is not with trepidation and
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reluctance. I am not impersonal, but I am not quick to new company, nor I
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am easy to making instant conversation from the spark of an introduction.
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My existence does not propagate company, let alone companionship.
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This is not meant to be a declaration, nor is it to be cast in stone.
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Claims and predictions are what we make, and life is what happens
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regardless. Anything can happen, and it can happen within the hour, for
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all intents and purposes. What this all adds up to being is preparation,
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not prophecy. I will not associate myself with those that wail and lament,
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"Oh woe as me; no one loves me. I might as well don my blackest garb, play
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my most somber Pink Floyd, and cry into my wine that no one will live as
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unloved as I!" Hardly.
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I face this prospect, so that should it come to pass, it's not some
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horrible surprise. I'm sure the majority of the families in '62 found
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little comfort pricing shelters as Russian ships unwilling sat paused off
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of the Cuban coast, in what was perhaps the coldest October of them all.
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We do not install smoke alarms to warn about a fire we will have, but as
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protection against the horrible possibility of one.
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I think about friendships lapsed, a marriage failed, and relationships
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lost. I think of the possibility of children that I will never have, and
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will never be. I think of it all, and realize that indeed Loneliness wears
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other guises - in this case, those of regret and loss. I realize more as I
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write that perhaps, at times, it lurks less in woods than it does in the
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camp. That perhaps, without knowing it, the battle is already upon me.
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It will not win, and I can say that with almost arrogant confidence, in
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spite of the doom such claims can bring. Even if the future I call
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unwelcome does come to pass, it will not be one wrought with pain, living
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under the shadow of fear of Loneliness. While I may not be able to make
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obedient beast of Loneliness as I did Being Alone, I will learn to coexist
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with it. I will be able to walk with yards of it, without flinching or
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being afraid of it lunging. Life is too singular and invaluable that it
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cannot be squandered by the fear of it continuing.
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I write this to vindicate myself, and perhaps vindicate the reader. We are
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all equally mortal, and both strong and vulnerable at the same time. We
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often spend far to much time trying to overcome and defeat the parts of
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ourselves that are so ingrained and integral to our character that we could
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ever neither succeed in extinguishing, or live without. We try so hard to
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remove fear and doubt instead of realizing how important they are, and how
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they act as part of the survival mechanism that keeps us out of harm and
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danger. Coexistence with the predators that live within is perhaps the
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best tribute we can build to our own perceived character. While we can lay
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to waste the bastard offspring like Hate and Insecurity, our own emotional
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food chain is dependent on their parent feelings and emotions. We must
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make peace with ourselves. Otherwise, it makes no more sense than trying
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to smite the ground you stand upon.
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- Capone
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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= Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) =
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= issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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