One Day Late – Shocking

The death of one’s spirit forces them to approach the cliff with less wonder and more determination.

I can’t really smell the flowers anymore; The sun has somewhat dulled; The glimmer of the stars have faded into the blackness that once accented their brilliance; My heart is heavier; My eyes sore and red from the ever present tears; My soul is dying...

Compassion kills – That is what should be on the packaging of life, a big heart with skull and crossbones, like the old-school poison symbol on bottles. I am tired to death of caring what people think about me or what I say or how I say it or don’t say it. Always worried that I will hurt their feelings; how they think about me...

I am exhausted and crushed by how small I have become. How tiny my world is. How little I matter to me and this planet. I have tried – tried to talk to people, and I either feel stupid for what I have said or how I don’t matter or how wrong I am or how worthless I am. Is it my perception or true – does it matter – does it make it any easier – nope.

I guess the question is: How much longer can I fake a smile or laugh at a joke or answer, “I’m good, thank you” – I am the joke...

I ask myself every day, multiple times, “How much longer?” A day, a week, a month – I can’t think beyond a month. If I was a betting man (which I am not – except when I am at the horse races or the casino J) I would bet on number 5 to place or all on black... The professionals call Bipolar Disorder a “life-threatening” illness, something that I haven’t really mulled over too much. I mean sure I thought, hmmm...when I first heard it, and probably had that same reaction the second, third and so on and so forth – but this past several weeks I have really thought about it and how it relates to me – I guess for me, today, it’s like a doctor telling you have 5 months to live. You’re in shock, then tears, then anger, then acceptance – I am almost at acceptance... Does that mean you should embrace it and make every moment count, say your goodbyes and welcome the soothing comfort in the love that surrounds you...Or do you, like I plan, shut yourself off from everyone, become silent and fade into the background; until you're forgotten... Death frightens us all, whether staring it in the face or to know its around the corner – no matter the mask, the tale, the story or the context in which it was forged – it’s everywhere and affects everyone differently. I am afraid of it (the act of it) not the result, but I am more afraid of living...

I have, through all of this, decided to sign up for an 8 week Creative Writing course at Mount Royal University. I will also be completing the “Land Administration Certificate Program” at SAIT. Two positive things invading my life for the next little bit, something to help tether me to this world.

Several days ago I decided it was time to start looking for opportunities to socialize that perhaps I was ready to look at dating, but then I remembered how ugly I am, how stupid I am, how fucked in the head I am – so that came crashing down and brought me back to reality...

So back to plan “A” twice removed; hide, keep your head down, talk to no one, and if you have to, just

smile and ask them what they think about the question they asked – don’t offer your opinion, keep ideas close to your chest, show no one – just converse in your head or when alone talk to yourself. Let your brain die as fast as your soul. Climb into the bubble and remain there until your death, and hope it is a swift one.

BP is a tar pit formed by fake fears, misunderstandings, medical issues, outside stressors, inside stressors, cruelty, anger, selfishness, ignorance, doubt. It is real - for those that think it’s not feel free to ask the doc if you can try my brain out when I’m gone – for most it will be an upgrade. J

I was hoping this post would be a little lighter, but I just started writing and this all came pouring out.

I will end this post with a little poem I first saw while working at the Olympics in 1988 and just recently found again, by accident, while on that there internet:

When I awoke one morning

When all sweet things are born

A robin perched upon my sill

To signal the coming morn.

The bird was young, fragile and gay

And sweetly did it sing

Thoughts of happiness and joy

Into my heart did bring.

I smiled softly at the cheering song

Then as it paused a moments lull

I gently closed the window

And crushed its' fucking skull.

Forge on – one must do, should they want a better life, or just jump off the ride while it’s moving quickly enough to ensure....  

Until next time Blogonians [blawg-awn-ee-uh n]s...

Dan