The Climb

窒息(Asphyxia) –奈夫

It’s not easy, none of it is. It feels as though the whole process at times is a Sisyphean climb up a a steep mountain with no end in sight. How did I end up here, and where does this path lead? I unsure of how the roads will bend or how the ground will break beneath my feet but each step I take I recover bits and pieces of what I’ve lost along the way. Each piece giving me some semblance of strength to move forward. I carry, though, on my back, the memory of months which likes barbs upon the skin tore into my soul and left me bleeding. Am I different now that I have endured more tumult and turmoil, most definitely. Am I better person because of it, that has yet to be seen. We shall see if these expiences have shaped me to be stronger or simply made more able to avoid the dangerous of the dagger in my side.

I climb and climb, my calves burn each time my foot touches the ground. It’s a burning that I am used to but a burning just the same. I continue this climb because I continue to find reasons to keep moving forward. Reasons to persist when my body and mind what to desist and fall away into the sides of the mountain. I can’t stop here, I won’t stop here. Something always drives me forward up the mountain through all the pain and suffering, the heart ache and strife. I did not ask for this pain but when presented with a wall I choose to climb it despite the pain because then maybe I can help others do the same.

Energy sapped but still moving, motivaiton gone but still pushing. I might be at the end of my rope but I am still pushed down but I won’t let go no matter what.

Life is a continual process of working and pushing and I may not be the best at moving forward but I am at least persistent enough to stay in the game. Sometimes that’s is what you need to get somewhere, the ability to stick with it long enough.

Twisted Letters

Room – XilmO@夕末

I’m starting to think that only good writings which anyone may find of value are the words that mark my end. How poignant it would be, to write something so perfectly but knowing I would not be able to find the words to complete such a masterpiece. A cold balance between the practical, the apologetic, and the incomprehensible musings of an unfinished man. It is a poisonous twisting of letters and phrases that attempt to reconcile the irreconcilable and cast an act of selfishness as an act of self mercy. There are days where it becomes manageable that I don’t even think about these dangerously dark thoughts. Still, it feels as is if I am in eternally stumbling across ground with no debris with only needing but a spec of dust to send me falling through the earth.

It’s the fluctuations between okay days and terrible ones that makes me know the spindling hasn’t stopped. It brings me high to then send me low, making my morning filled with despair, afternoons feel manageable, and cause my nights to be sleepless. I carve moments away from everything, but they don’t last long enough as either the external or the internal constructs interrupt any semblance of meaningful peace.

My mind keeps going, running on fumes that have all been snuffed out. I consider what will happen when I find myself at the end of that rope, pulling hard to make sure there is nothing left for me or anyone else. An empty person, devoid of any merits other than existence. What then will I think of myself, will my true value be revealed if I hold onto nothing anymore. Will that value be low enough the pay for these costs of my sins and follies.

Part of me wants to get away from it all. All this clutter of my mind, or reduce it all to ash before my eyes, an outcry of the pain I feel inside. Maybe it would be better to lose everything. Start from nothing because it is less complicated than the life I am currently living. I know in some sick way I asked for this, asked for this type of life, and the trajectory that I am on, but I could have never anticipated the outcome. How can I have been so wrong for so long, and how do I rectify things. It’s effortful, these changes, these emotions, the things I hope to find and enact. Why is it that I always feel like I have to pour out so much to get anything in return, and even then, I do get something back. It’s never enough.

I’m in pain, and part of me prays that a hero would come and save me, but I have known for a long time that those types of things don’t happen. No hero will come to save me from myself and my twisted thoughts, and all there will be is silence over an indifferent universe. So that leaves me, but perhaps I am just too tired to stand up right now, but how can I heal I haven’t been much good at resting. For now, I will consider whether I want to or not, the words that may speak to many or few about what is worth saying at the end.

The Amorphous Day

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Days and nights move through the sky as if they are both everything and nothing. Time itself may keep its count has become meaningless against the amorphous quarantine period. Dates fly by but hours take forever to pass, I am never sure where I should be or how I should feel through it all, but all I know is that muddle mixture of emotions have meaning even if the world seems to be falling apart around us.

It, in a way, reminds me of how time passes used to pass in videogames when I was younger. Days and night seemed to blend, and events and happenings would change depending on the sun, but the protagonists never cared whether it was day or night just that they were moving forward.

It’s been hard, I’ve sorted through my own troubles in this time we are all stuck inside. Needing to work through those moments and memories that I’ve hadn’t had time for. Work keeps me busy and stressed, though, at times, my body and mind fail me at the altar of the screen.  I think the answers to most of my questions is I don’t know, and maybe eventually.

It’s given me time to reflect more on what I see for myself in the future. The ways I want to go forward and be treated. What I should expect from the world and how I should go about pursuing it. It’s a quiet existence until I fill with thoughts and music.

It doesn’t help that I am tired all the time, though the occasional sun does help. I sit waiting for the world to pass me by moving forward slowly and surely until I can get enough done so that I can say that I am proud of myself and go to sleep.

I do appreciate all those voices I hear over the phone. Those sounds keep me sane when stuck at home away from it all.

I am fighting back, fighting back against all that craziness. I fight against the formless days and nights. Those thoughts of letting myself drift away into the abyss, hoping to return once this is all said and done. We must fight together, holding each other accountable and giving support so that when things are finished,and we can return, we know we still have the foundation of ourselves and our network to rely on.

I will keep this brief, as the day has taken a lot out of me. It may not be over, and the darkness still lingers, but we together can make this work. It’s who we say we want to be in this time that matters. How do I want to look back at myself and remember this time, stuck at home? Will I be the one who lost to the amorphous days or one who made something out of them.

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Shelter In Place – GroundedSpaceMan

It was some time ago, when listening to a podcast about the intricacies of emotion, I came to a deeper understanding of how about how the words shape the experience we have. The ability to describe how we feel goes a long way for how we treat these experiences and the process in how we cope with these experiences.

It’s then I have a word problem, an inability to describe how I feel simply. Maybe it’s because it’s a multitude of many things that are happening right, now but my feelings are stunted and unresolved because of my inability to put my finger on exactly what I am going through.

It mixture, a muddle of things to be honest. A sadness, an unease, an accomplishment, but also a sense nihilism. A confused sort of thing that comes together more like a grey cloud than anything clear cut. I don’t know what to do or what the right thing is, my body and brain are in incongruency trying to get a grip on myself as the world seems to be falling apart. It is then I had wished for the guise of routine to save me from the confusion only to be thrown to the lions, unrooted and left to hoist myself up the best I can.

For now, I used just a place holder of _______, a blank space that will have to do in the meantime as I have to continue moving forward. It doesn’t make the nights easier or the mornings shorter. What it does do is let me acknowledge it exists and to keep moving forward. I may not find the word, but I at least need to spend time healing.

A Degree of Discordant Disorganization

 

 

You know the celebration and recognition of having written this blog consistently for the last 5 years should be a joyous one. One that comes with a sense of accomplishment to it, as that would mean for the last 260 weeks I have posted at least once a week. It’s though a bit bittersweet, as I am happy about the accomplishment but saddened by the inability to write the last week. This perfect streak of Saturdays was broken because of a lack of time and energy to write for such an integral thing in my life. My life has been getting busier but not in a good way, one that I know will pay off in the end, but I am finding the difficulty with the amount of work I have to do now, but that’s what I signed up for, and that’s what I will see through to the end. I can’t blame that for all of it though, part of me can’t keep it all together, all the things I need to do.  I am doing so much more work than I need to for the sake of moving forward. My life feels messy and undisciplined, disorderly, to say the least, so it’s time to start picking up the pieces once again.

It’s the pieces, broken and scatted like the shards of window from my car on that fateful night. One of those things I lost were the habits and discipline that I had built up for many years. One I learned and built up through the fires of frustration. Without that pilot light and the time to build that spark, all I am left are smoldering coals of once was that raging fire.

I want it to return, with me going through those all those motions trying to maintain that streak I previously had. It’s that tire that stands between me and it, that need to keep pushing forward through these unsettled months haven’t allowed me to catch my breath, and find that part of my soul I feel like I am missing.

The work keeps stacking, and I will get through it, but the difficulty I have with it directly relates to my ability to build those habits into this trying time. I may not have the moments, but I have the will to change. A will built into knowing if I can accomplish this, then I can continue stepping towards that dream I so dearly want, but without it, I will flounder and fall short of what my heart sets me out to do.

Will I Get Fat If I Eat Chocolates In My Dreams

You know I have been dreading to write this post, not because It would be especially hard to write but because I knew it would be wouldn’t be on the day I had intended on writing it. It’s been a long few weeks with a lot of classes and work that has taken me away from these essential extracurriculars. This writing is more than an exercise to me now; it’s a way to realign myself and capture my thoughts relegated to the time at which I had them. I feel bad when I don’t post, hence why I left this post blank for a while, as a means of a place holder, to give me no excuse not to write as it would tarnish the consistency of the blog. A work left undone that can only be rectified by finishing it. That being said, the inspiration for this post has come out of the collective struggle of those around me, whose of whom I love and hope the best for.


It’s the spirit of change that brings wanton heartache.  The long nights of unease and restlessness propagate this feeling of not knowing where I belong.  It’s in this realization that most places in this world believe that after a certain age, you are not to be taken care of anymore. Perhaps it’s the truth, that through all this supposed hand holding I am soft to the quality of needing other people, a reluctant truth I fight so hard against. No man is an island, so be it as it may, regardless of whether or not I feel strong enough to go it on my own that with other people, I will prosper.

But it was just so easy last time, a great fortune that with its absence, I feel unprepared. It’s left a hunger, one that has gone for the most part unsatiated in this new world of mine.  This is no fault of the place I find myself but more so the barrier of entry required to be given accessed the sweet social nector that is needed to sustain me is higher than I remember. Walls built in my mind that make reaching out and touching the tangable all the harder. Life is effortful so the experiences I have in it is in large part my responsibility, but the factors for my success are not as easily obtainable this time around.

I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like if I wasn’t able to lean on the relationships, I have cultivated over my lifetime. Talking with familiar faces and hearing nostalgic voices makes me feel that maybe, just maybe I can do this. It has restored me some semblance of normalcy, allowing me to get to work. To be all I can be.  I can tell you how humbling it is to realize how fragile we are, that eventually we will be weathered away to nothing if we don’t allow find protection in the raging storm.  I found a place to rest my head and find my bearings, only taking months of trying to find that balance, knowing full well how easy it would be tip me over and watch me fall.

That’s why it makes me so sad to see the suffering of my friends. Those of whom have embarked on their own journey outside my reach. I cannot cure all the ills of the world for the people I care about but to see them suffering from afar plagues me. Though I love the encroaching presence of technology’s ability to free us from the need of other people’s help, we have lost something though it, that ability to fulfill that human need to connect. Pushing it away like chocolate on a diet, we try to go through our lives seeing the indifference of our personal universes and proclaiming god to be dead the world to be terrible.  Quietness becomes that enemy when a few months prior, it was a trusted friend.   We find then, in introspection, we must be weak because of our inability to cope with this change. Weakness for needing other people. I dare say, that is not weakness, that is human. It is a calling out there that in your heart you want to connect, want to believe, and part of something more.

I tell you, you are not alone in this. You are not the only one feeling that way. We are not the first ones, we won’t be the last ones but together, it gets easier.  We are all hurting, struggling with this transition into a new world, separate from everything we’ve known, and that’s okay, it’s expected.  What we can do, by knowing this we is fight for ourselves, fight to reach out and build a foundation for ourselves and place to weather the storm.

If we need it, we need not wait to get it, we have to get out there and reach for it. We need to act against those little thoughts that tell us not to, that tells us that it’s bothersome to others. We have so many people that have chosen to be in our lives because they want to be.  Worrying about whether or not you should is like wondering if you will get fat by eating chocolate in your dreams, without action, it’s meaningless, who cares what those little thoughts say, what matters is you will be okay and we are all in this together.

March Towards Matriculation – Fifth March – Finding My Footing

Undoubtedly a great experience, filled with fear, adventure, and a promise for tomorrow. It’s when staring down our future all we can do is lean in and work for a better tomorrow today.

I am thankful that with an easing of the semester, I see a building of excitement for the future life I worked so hard to achieve. There was a worry several months back that these feelings would never manifest but thankfully now that that school been made more tangible to me there is now a place to link my hope and excitement.  It’s a weird experience having committed myself to a place for so long without the knowledge of what life there is like. I knew that my ambitions called for me to take such a leap, especially with the recent accident that held me up for so long.  It’s the faith that I’m happy with, faith in a type of plan or destiny that at times I so despise. Faith in fate as it were that everything would turn out okay. Now for most things, I knew I would make it work regardless of what happened and where I ended up, and I cannot discount that someplace were always better than others but there is an easing of grief and burden when you find that you at least made the choice that will come easy and is right.

I find great difficulty expressing the feeling that comes with this knowledge. It’s analogous to putting everything on the table you’re holding a hand you hope will win, knowing full well that where we end up is some part skill and another part luck but as the last card falls and the final bets are made you realize that the round has gone to you. That you played well and you are being rewarded. This is because there is something beyond the statues and stone halls, the concrete and the history; there is an ease in it all, one that does not come lightly with every place we find ourselves.  Am I scared, of course, I am terrified beyond belief, but in this fear I can thrive, in this transition lies a future of growth, change, and understanding one I am ready to make of.

It’s then in this last trip to my future home, where I got to see the people and place that my forward path lies that I find myself excited for what is to come. I know there is so much more for me to learn from these places and people that it scares me. I decided though, that this time around I must approach it with a greater humility and understanding that I am to be guided, molded, and shaped into a better version of myself. It’s only though this great humility that I can be successful. It’s in this great humility that I can absorb, adapt, and prosper beyond where I know is possible now. I leave this saying that I am thrilled with the prospect of the future, but torn with how to feel about how soon it will come.

The Fire Within That Burns The World

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At times it’s hard to so optimistic. Day in and day out, bright. Don’t get me wrong, I love the sunny disposition, it’s what I default back to when I am in new situations.  It’s not even just because of the amount of energy I expend, the cost is negligible because at the end of the day it makes me and others happy.   What the main problem is, that people take it as being disingenuous or too much all the time. Like opening the blinds in a darkened room, the suns rays being to burn your eyes as you squint to see.  It’s a good moment every now and again, but eventually, people will be seeing me through sunglasses or create blinders so that the light stops bothering them.  I become a special case, no longer seeing me for who I am, but a dimmer version of myself.  It gets lost, and though at times I am aware of this light and make motion to try and dampen it, I can’t help but burn within.

I don’t really understand why, but part of me feels this passion for life all the time. It dwells right there within my chest, like a ignited ember, a fire ready to take hold of many exciting things this world has to offer.  Life has a funny way of being able to make things incredibly fascinating.  Like Alice in Wonderland, each little piece has a whole world to it if you’re willing to go down the rabbit hole.  It all acts as kindling for me, and as long as I am moving forward, there is an inexhaustible supply of it.  It keeps me knowing I’m alive sometimes, like breathing and in its absence, it feels like I am suffocating.

But fire burns, and growing up with it makes it, so I am resistant to the heat and the light, but not everyone is or wants to be subjected to it. It radiates out, and sometimes it feels like those around me will eventually get burned unless the light and heat is scattered.  Like I have to continue moving just enough that people will be able to handle it.   I’m learning, of course, each day observing the reactions of others so that I know how much is enough and when to keep my mouth shut. It’s a trail littered with mistakes but at least its progress.

Fire burns hot and requires a lot to burn.  I need to find places where this fire will sit last, a slow burn that warms the spirit and doesn’t burn the soul.  It’s like finding where you belong, and the people you belong with, I want to find both, but there’s really no easy way to look, just keep following your feet. Hopefully, I can find that place where the fire will able to sit for a while and create a fixed light. A light that you can count on light the warms people instead of burning the world.