Tired

I can feel it in the air, the time is nigh, soon even I won't be able to control the outcome. I will snap on the inside, everything will go black and I'm afraid of what the outcome will be when I can see again, if I can even open my eyes. I don't even know if I will be here. Maybe I will have disappeared into the void my life seams to be hurtling towards. I want to cry out, scream "I beseech thee! Please help me!" But no one listens, they may say they care but at the end of the day, I'm always alone. For what reason do I always do this to myself? A phrase, a song, always something that triggers a memory of something I can't have: eternal happiness with you. Life is always about knocking you down so you can get back up stronger. Somehow though I always get get back up beaten down, bruised and broken. I'm tired. Tired of fighting and never getting what I deserve, tired of the nice guy always ending last, tired of myself and tired of life. If no one really cares then why do I even bother? Maybe if I just give up, really give up and just let whatever happens happen, then I'll be happier then I am right now. If ignorance is bliss maybe I should try being happy regardless of my circumstances for awhile, oblivious to everything. Forget the ticking clock, the swinging pendulum, the slicing blade and just be dumb and numb to it all. Deny myself myself and just be a puppet on a string. It'll never work for I'm neither conventional or ignorant. So I'm back where I started. Alone, broken and bruised. Oh well, who cares anymore? I don't.

Respect and Honor For The Dead

I was watching a movie this weekend, Taking Chance with Kevin Bacon. It's a very touching and sad. It is also based on a true story. It shows the story of an officer transporting the body of a deceased Marine back home to his family. It touched me that in every stop they made or every place they drove through people showed respect for this fallen soldier, either turning on their headlights, or hands over their hearts.
I can remember the first time I ever saw I funeral possession. It was for my great grandmother, and I was a pallbearer. We had a police escort through several different counties, and I can remember seeing the officers flying past us to block an intersection, getting out of the car and putting their hands over their hearts as we drove past. I can remember seeing cars pulling off to the side of the road and turning their headlights on. I asked my dad why they did this and he told me it was a way to show respect not only for my great grandmother but for us the family as well. He told me if I ever see a funeral possession going past me pull over, turn on the headlights and turn down the radio.
This has stuck with me and ever since if I see one go past, I do exactly that. I saw a funeral possession last week and two things made me kinda sad and mad. 1: There were only five cars in the possession 2: Only a few cars including myself pulled over, while most people kept driving past. I wanna touch on the second point first. What is the problem? Are we not teaching our children anymore ways of respect? I question this but I already know the answer. No. If it doesn't directly effect us then it doesn't matter to us anymore. This pains me, I know I'm just as guilty in some aspects as others and I am trying my best to correct these faults of my own.
Which brings me to my first point. Five people. Really? It made me question my actions in my life. I always said if I just touched one person in my life and made a difference then it was all worth it, but is that really how I want it to be? Maybe. I do know that when I die I don't want anyone crying and sad at my funeral. You have your own personal time for that. I want my funeral to be a celebration of my life and the good things I've done and how I helped you in your life. I know people say this all the time and it never happens but I hope that's how my funeral plays out.
My challenge to you: Remember you don't know when it's your time so live life to the fullest. If it's not to much trouble or an inconvenience, show a little respect for others either alive or passed on. You might just make a difference in someones life whether you ever know it or not.

Crazy, Hurtling, Spinning

I've gotta stop this, gotta put an end to these feelings I seam to inflict upon myself. It's almost obsessive. Crazy. I can't seam to control it though, hell I can't seam to control anything anymore. How much pain can one inflict on ones self before it all becomes to much and you hurtle in a downward spiral to a place you can't come back from? What if it's the only way you can feel, the only way you know your alive? I carry my scars well I think. No one knows unless I tell them, so no one ever knows. I cling to things which I cannot have, dream of things that will never be. Hurtling. Do I do crazy things because it's fun, or because I don't care what happens to me? Maybe that's what makes it so fun. Why can't I say that I don't care anymore and actually not? Why am I compelled to care and have concern when it is neither asked for or wanted? Spinning. So I guess I'll keep plummeting faster and further out of control until I hit that bottom of no return. I welcome it though, at least I'll know I was alive.

Muse

Life has left me cold, battered, used and abused. I fought every day just to survive and when I thought I'd has enough and I had fallen to my breaking point and was ready to give up and wait death's embrace, I looked up and saw you smile at me, lighting up your entire face. Like my saving grace, an angel of mercy, the most beautiful presence I have ever laid my eyes upon. You stretched out your hand and lifted me up, into a better time in my life. I can't help but smile when I think of you. Your beauty and creativity push me to be a better person, if only so I can deserve to be in your presence. When all hope was gone and I was lost forever, there you were to pick me up and show me a better way. Your like my muse, my Aphrodite, my driving force. I pray that I can be at least half the person you deserve, and that you won't leave while I strive to make the other half follow suite.

Black

I wear the color that I feel, the color of my soul, my heart or the void where my heart should be. The darkest hour on a moonless night, that is my color. I swirl around in my abyss of pain, torture, agony and defeat. How is it I never feel any pleasant things like love, content or joy? I feel happiness sometimes, though momentary, then despair rushes back in to fill every crevice of my being. Is this some kind of twisted joke played on me by fate? I thought I made my own destiny but life has other idea's. How is it the lowest pieces of dirt get all the luck while good people like me always catch crap? I guess it depends on how you look at it though, if I'm a good person or not. Maybe it is I who am the lowest of the low and they are the hero's unknown. I could sit and grovel this all day or I could rise and charge head on, fight for what belongs to me. Sometimes though, you grow weary and tired of fighting and so you sit and life beat you down. I've been beaten black and blue and purple both mentally and physically so much I barely recognize myself anymore. Maybe that's it, maybe love can't recognize me, so it passes me by, content not even slowing down, and joy turns and runs the other way. When I'm with you, that's when I feel happiness, that's why I always want to be with you. It's when we part, or when someone else is on your mind that reality crashes down and reminds me; good things don't last forever. So why not enjoy it while I can? It's all I have the cling to in this forsaken existence I call life. Just push me back into the black when you've had your fun, oh life of torture and pain, I surrender. For now.

Artwork I've done

This painting followed the "Land of the Free" blog I posted. One of the few paintings I did that actually turned out the way I wanted. (The phrase is a lyric from Rage Against The Machine)

Individuality

Today was such a beautiful day, so me and my buddy were sitting out on the porch talking for awhile and one of the conversations we had really struck me and I wanted to share with you.

Why is it parents are always disappointed with you when and if you do something that isn't in their plan for you, like tattoo's, piercings, jobs, spouses, etc? I realize all parents want whats best for their children, and want them to succeed, but just because you get a tattoo or whatever doesn't mean you've failed. Your children are not you, they never will be, everyone is unique and different and special in their own way. What we do to ourselves isn't to fit in, or stand out, or whatever, it's to express our individuality. I am blessed to say my dad doesn't look down on me or discredit me for any of my tats or piercings, regardless of if he likes them or not. He understands that I am my own person. But most can't say that.
Parents aren't they only ones who do this though. Most people do this whether they realize it or not. If you don't dress a certain way, or drive a certain type of vehicle, or listen to the certain type of music, then you aren't cool enough to hang out with them. Why? What's that about? They don't like it when someone gives them crap for the things they do, so why do the same to others?
We are a nation based on different ethnics, backgrounds, and individuality making us a whole. I have been lucky enough to surround myself with people who are like minded and don't care what you wear, listen to, drive, etc. As long as your open minded enough to except us for who we are, we will do the same for you.
So i challenge you: The next time you start to judge someone based on appearances, stop and ask yourself, "How would I feel if it were me?" Give them a chance, you could be turning away a potential best friend you'd ever have.