%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Alienation brought on by Terminal Cancer. |
|
Take x. Prologue A human footprint pressed into the sand, my breath wheezing out of me, with certain gasps, also in a rhythmic effort of sorts. The utter silence of your ever stalking shadow at toe. An ethereal thread to life. The sea so infinite from my position as a human, standing in a warm breeze, so finite. I was just astonished, how quick the azure skies, seemingly endless over me, and in a instant can be taken away. I felt the void for the first time, soul tearing crooning from afar, a long viceral call, a realization of sorts, that my life has all been a crying waste. Revenant, silent shy as breeze gaining momentum to be invisible in the storm, so many thoughts come and go. My broken brain, aphasia, the damage done; three tumors due to a cancer, which blew my right kidney to shit, to finally settle by corrupting my lymph nodes. I'm no longer feel alive and at the same time I still tread on, swallowed by whirlwinds of gray. I am he who finds a way to return, even though everyone thought me lost. I welcome you , and appreciate you taking time to know about someone falling apart, in look of putting myself to gather, stranded in a third world reality, a psychonaut, left behind, to float away into the great big nothing. I launch into space, far far away from humans, see they wanted to profit off my death, drawing it into a long hole to go down just to suffer, or go progressively stupid. My bout with brain cancer, refusing any kind of chemo, just by the power of a plant, and a simple process anyone can do. Disappointed me even deeper. My wife, a slowly thawing type of creature were you suddenly find yourself in a sexless relationship, and barraged by demands. Then the become someone y used to know, to a text message from another country. Hi!... After the silence, the gut twisting anxiety, the radio began to pop, to slowly let way to the wild fire like sing of static. "Is there any one, left out there?" Welcome, if any one, anything can receive... "I'm still glad you are here, or not, it has been so long...", so much time speeding on and on, into unknown space. Objective, to travel on into the apparent nothing, far into the void, away from humanity, to prove nothing was out there. Gliding through a pitch black uncertainty. Far from the chaos I left behind. Day after day wondering at the speed of light almost, into a terribly infinite nothingness, it's been days, months, years, perhaps. Too far. Too far. I went too far out. Radio barely receives random bleeping. Too far Mike, for a quick instance I disassociate from reality, I’m suddenly standing on pristine white sand, squishing between my toes. A swift breeze blew across the dunes making the solitude cut deeper. Introduction My intention is tell my tale, my experience with cannabis oil and how it cured my brain cancer. Amongst the chaos of life, and how finite is everything destined to disappear into the nothing, even us. A search uncommended, a long emptiness stretched through the cold void of nothingness, the sting of disappointment or disillusionment trying to pull me back into the black. A quest that will ultimately end in one of two ways, first, is the black just is too hard to break free from and death finally swallows me, second, I might find myself finally, the good parts lost away in childhood carelessness, slain by people's words, and become at peace with life. In love with who I am, at peace with the present, greatful, and a family member to count on. This is a fragmented story, of a severely fragmented person, I`m a Psiconaught, explorer of the inner space, where I lived most my life, where I wonder looking for answers in the pitch black coldness of existence. Uncertain to if there is anything out there at all. It's meant to written some kind of dim psychedelic hue, that same bit of despair you might experience on an acid trip, the chaos and the confusion. It blossoms from the deep disillusionment with humanity, the moment I found myself mortally ill, recently married, wanting a life, and faced with a machine that wanted me to come into their halls of death, for money, like just one more pig hooked ona line. Just like those pigs screaming at the end of a day on my grandfather's farm, its a sound that screeches across your soul like white crusty nails to the geen of some chalkboard, a being put to the knife. I hope to somehow give everyone a bit of a view into what's it is like to grow and become some kind of man, another clown tearing himself up on the inside, heartache, and all the other baggage, besides my mental health. How, being the son of a mentally ill mother, badgered by her own family, that always did her best, and sometimes just gave up, I don't dare judge. How some of us are left on the side lines of mental health, how we cope. Or how we end up lost and forgotten in a blood lusting world that doesn't care. To wrap this attempt of an introduction up, I've done my best to warn you the strangeness ahead. What is this thing? What's the point of this crap? All other sorts of questions are hoped to be answered to the best of my abilities or the effort I have willing at the time wrote this. So, certainly these are the last days of the rest of my life, lets see what comes of it. Transmisión number- 111-01-00-10-01 My directives are to sleep eight hours in a earth cycle, to keep up my deteriorating body f, coasting at mind numbing speeds piecing darkness for days now, there’s just nothing out there, through the spinning windows. I’m finally spinning in a can through the nothingness of the vacuum of space. I’m finally lost. Computer is still insisting on my twenty four hour earth days. Not knowing that on earth days can bleed into the next. Savagery to the mind, total absence of the soul that is aware time is running out. Meaningless days, rolling one over the other. Where you were is spilt across a white linoleum table, the places you have been, where you felt hopeful, and the people in our life just phantoms in silky gowns, wandering pointlessly through a foggy feast and drink of some sorts. I think of home, it’s never a clear idea, vague smells, comfort, a place of the soul hugging smell of homemade cooking. All those absent treasures, but there with the wrong people. Transmisión- 001-01-01-01-11-00-01 Gliding through a pitch black, terribly infinite nothingness, weightless, it's been days, months, years, perhaps. Too far, I went too far out. Radio barely receives random bleeping. Too far Mike, for a quick instance I disassociate from reality, I’m suddenly standing on pristine white sand, squishing between my toes. A swift breeze blew across the dunes making the solitude cut deeper. “You can’t be more lost. Wanderer.” The girls voice eerily said in the breeze. Azure sky, the simplicity in the brief moment made me feel she said truth. "Too far," she insisted child's voice from some unpinned point far away now, “estrangement", “you went too far." She repeats herself into distortion and stops. I'm alone again. Slowly spinning somehow deep into the indifference of falling apart. Time has become dreary, blurred in so many tones over who I never wanted to become, and now who I am smeared somewhere in all the chaos. Day after day is just the same. Time charging its price of a life you just might have wasted. All in good intentions, the best intent, honest soul trapping dreams, and the very passion of my life. All spilt down a fiery black trench, smoke bleeding from the dark chaos, glowing coals, the bitterness of waste that was going on, the land is dead, black branches reaching up through a sour earth, sorrow like the dust, everywhere. Nothing in my life was ever made into a reality. But yes it was some sort of delirious trip, dreamy, fantastical, and terribly sad, hurtful, pain, mostly filled with abandonment, my mom, my friends, women, my own family and recently an estranged wife with no explanation available. I see my fingers, now slim and somewhat wicked covered with some kind of gray matter. It's progressively becoming hard to recognise myself. I want to go home, Im just another stranded spaceman lonesome and longing... > > 02:36 am. SET > I don’t want to know if it’s day or night. You might be witnessing my breakdown as a person, loss of soul, that shimmer deep inside us is gone from the eyes, no love nor dreams for the future, just a poured out muck of chaos across the floor expanding slowly into nothing. There’s a way home. > > 3:14am SET > I fell asleep. I didn’t know my surroundings for a spell. All my life has been one big lie. All those hopes and all those dreams nothing but frivolous whims of a child. Nothing has made a difference, mostly I’ve been a leaf in the wind. I need to contact earth. It’s been so long. > > 17:12 SET > I miss my wife, barely remembering her touch, or who she was. Radio Transmission 0000001-0-001 Earth day num16,499 now reaches it’s end. A savage pun in an experience ending limerick perhaps, time is free, but it’s priceless. I was getting old, the ship droning one at a quarter, always forward, on and on, further into what looks like nowhere, lost, all this and more, all these Mission Objectives. Still stranded, no course set, nothing found. Speeding on with no destination, so fast you can feel it smothering the body. The certain deterioration it surely reeking havoc on some part of me or another. Apparently my oxygen rig is at the end of it’s miserable lifespan. No more parts for the last unit, no more bolts, no mores golden valves, no more new cards to slip them in. The end is eminent, no certain time can be calculated. Death is expected soon. I chose the endless darkness of space, I’d rather suffer the hardships and awkwardness of going to space than stay with people who have always been ass holes to me , leave the planet to stare into the void. The void actually appears to have swallowed me whole. > > 22:17SET I just release some times, and give in to the chaos around me. Centrifugal force rattling my brain with every tumble the ship makes. Time has lost it’s meaning, an endless hallway blinding white, smooth pillars withstand emptiness one beside the next. Days bleeding into each other, I see some one who is older, an older man who shows obvious signs of wear of an unkind life in the mirror, someone who I really don’t recognize as well as I once did. My social skill, is at its have decided awesomely. Back in reality, heartbreak after heartbreak, I can’t remember my mother’s last hug. The last time we went out for pizza together. The last time we got into a fight. > > 23:43 SET > I used to believe my journey to space was more of a matter of cowardice, to slowly turn around and wander endlessly into the the darkness of space. Cosmonaut shot off in search for hope. Turn away from people’s bull shit, not even my mother could shield me from the chaos. I walked away from so many good intentions. It is the result, mental health, constant rejection, and the lack of self esteem. Radio Transmission # 0012-43-hhy Mayor power outage... - “The ship convinces me a bit more of how our use life is coming to an end.” I made an effort to give my last two cents, literally. Cold, essential part of the viciousness, to the void it self, - hypothermia was accomplished and finally through extended intense labor was overcome. -All port holes are frozen over, visibility cero. Familiar radio static gave an attempt of white noise, the familiar live popping, be by destination or circumstances, or just fed up and walked away; tired of the world, exhausted by apes . While cold eases up in my suit, time to fight for my life soon, slip to a place, where here eyes were easily swept up delightful abandonment through the galaxy. I was left with solace, I had finally met loneliness. Hurling at incomprehensible speeds across the galaxy, what a sight that must certainly be, but, I’m sealed in a windowless vault, safe in my tin can. … … Back in the 70’s My mom, beautiful un her blue, Corderoy, mac&cheese and corn dogs, she gave me some kind side stare, “When you were smaller, you were a nightmare! At the end of the day you had me in tears!” An amusing anecdote ? Family, instead of offering a kind helping hand, they preferred a subtle fuck you stance lathered in tones of witty hypocrisy. According to transmission 52-000-1-0 I have to go outside. I just wanted to fuck off, drift away though space, a castaway, and now I’m expected to space walk. Screw them, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what the hell I might do. It would be a leap of freedom,” Uuum, one small step for man, and one giant leap as far away from mankind…” and more nothingness, no boom of my boot slamming into the ship’s panel, and yep, I would have expected a bit more ruckus in the end. I might stroll my way to the cockpit, fasten my harness as I was taught, and secure it to the front of the ship. Checkmate, I left everything, everyone, and I’ll be shooting through the sky forever. The orders were, exit the ship and space walkthrough the fuel tank to replace a couple of valves that met their life span. My life span was in turmoil, I was sure I had dealt with it. The best way I could describe my mother was, she was born with her self destruct button taped, pressed on full destruct mode. I never understood it until she was gone. I let go of what deep seeded behavior we had come to share, only to find it, one last showdown. I’m a procrastinator, so I’m still fitting my harness a good 39 minutes from when they wanted to have my walk. It’s not like I’m going anywhere, I’m blitzing into a possibility. Uncertainty is a killer a vague fog across the cosmos, will I make it? Will I just become another nothing, forgotten a hundred years from now. I just don’t bother any longer, you drop hope, I decided I hook my safety line to the ship ladder, time seems slower for me out here, and I begin my climb to the bottom side of the tail. My own breath is all I can hear, white bar after white bar leading me over the embodiment of emptiness, solitude, the escalating self conflicts, the void. I can see my reflection in my helmets visor, a man I could barely recognize staring back at me, time had obviously laid its pale hands upon me. Was this journey worth it? Am I still young enough to make any defense in my life? Most of it is gone. I begin to loosen the old valves, and the solitude comes over me, a death like peaceful silence, the blaring white off the hull, the nothingness, so still, peaceful. A distant shimmer caught the corner of my eye. A shimmering far away within the abyss, If I had to say it seemed green, a ghostly green if I was forced to say. The workday dredges on, in the emptiness, the vacuum of absence just outside my helmet ready to kill me in an awful way. Again the green shimmer was just a spec from my perspective, it was just there, still. I turned my back to it, and I felt that cold wet finger down my spine. Was I feeling watched? At last the job was done, and the my aching body agreed. I did the whole procedure backwards to get back to the ship, but I stopped at the hatch. With a bit of effort I turned my body to starboard side, and it remained suspended there, a green speck holding its own so far in the abyss. I couldn’t restrain myself from staring into it, then a feeling of untethered guilt, I felt so soul wrenching bad for not being with my mother when she passed. Oxygen is running low, lower than I’m comfortable with! I see her dead face, bloated and purple lips, far from the mother I once had, a sullen sigh of who she ever was. Why think of this tragedy right now? My breath began to become a little more difficult, I tell myself that she wanted to die, she put herself that situation. I’m back at the farm house, it’s raining, it was a rainy sad afternoon, my mother was confined to sitting on one of her dining room chairs, where she spent the rest of her life. She had managed to convince her usual taxi driver to take care of a leg wound, that consisted of her not having skin covering the whole back side of her left calf. Mom just didn’t trust doctors anymore, plane and simple. “There butchers! How many times have I almost died because of those wakkos!” But obviously I knew it was serous, no skin, just a puss covered that seeped down her leg, and made a pool of puss around her foot if she didn’t have a towel beneath it. The particular moment I was in, it was time to clean her leg. Once they had her foot in a wide blue plastic tub, and plenty towels laid out. And the taxi driver began to wash all the puss down my mom’s leg with a syringe and some intravenous fluid. I was held hostage to my thoughts, and speechless. My mother had such low self esteem she didn’t want to bother with whatever it was that she had. Like an abused dog, who only knows life at the end of a chain, the pain of the rod, and the teeth of those who told her to be her blood, what does it matter. Some people after years of being over protected, enduring the blatant disregard of her own father, abused by men, some people just get tired. Then the cleaning with the swabs began, I noticed that the the poor guy was doing his best as gentility as possible, but she had no skin. What really shook me were my mother screaming in agony, even childlike from the intensity of the pain, her pleas for it to stop. It became nonstop, my mom wailing, wailing in a different voice than the one I always knew before her thyroid problem. I left the room, and stood in front of the window, the rain was still pouring down onto the ground, and nothing made sense. A tooth jerking headache, my eyes were blurry, my ears were buzzing. I was back on the ship, my lungs burning for air, I made an effort to open my right eye, and it was still there. I let myself fall inside and I passed out. Conceit there was unease, that feeling of someone or something watching me, they can see me. Not with their eyes, or it’s eyes. I’m so confused, disoriented, I feel totally debased. Whatever it is that’s out there, is the source for this increasing malaise. So I head in the opposite direction. …………… Two weeks later. The ship has been cruising through space, at a constant speed for days now. I’m not feeling any better, and I haven’t checked to see if that creature was still there. I guessed it was just time to know, what’s out there, following me. I could feel it out there some how, not only because of my general malaise but, I think I hear it in my head. The lights in the ship had passed to night mode, a tint of blue, and it feels hollow. I made my way to the back hatch, taking my time for some reason. And I just stood in front of the white latch that would let me see behind the ship. I felt an uncontrollable seed of terror deep in the pit of my gut, it was small, but becoming bit less controlable a little bigger every second. I set my hand on the bluish lever, took a deep breath through the rising fear, and opened it. Green, green shot through the window, and I slid down into a sitting position, my back to where the green lights blared through. I immediately get a gushing nose bleed, my vision shook and I was looking into my mother’s lifeless face. “You, you failed her…” a voice so clear in my mind, crass and aggressive in tone. I wasn’t done, I was held in a mental flutter, and feeling myself crammed through some kind of riff. My helmet was gone, I dare not open my eyes, I had no spacesuit, and the grass between my toes made the whole situation all most unbearable. A fare away breeze swallowed me, humid, countless scents of life; “ Home.” My mouth said but, without words. “Paradise...” a crass voice made a reappearance in my head, and some old drunk, who smokes two packs a day. Uneasy and untrustworthy, and my ignorance about everything to play against, “The Creature”. Open eyes see what they want to see, or never what they supposed to be observed, it’s easier just believe they are whoever might seem.Lush vegetation, sand, forests of fruit and sweet water. I don’t care to describe everything, but you should get the idea pretty clear. I wasn’t at all ok to be squished into a parallel universe, or drugged, or dead maybe, trickery. I was there, under blue skies, songs of birds, The Creature who was attempting to materialize something. Then all I can think of is, “ Damn! I am fucking naked!” Days began to compound into the days, I wasn’t even sure which were real. I could see a tall figure every evening at the other side of the river, toads, cicadas, and crickets hold the darkness hostage in the barrage of matting calls. I watch him and his hollowed green eyes stare not only at me, I sense it’s peering into and through my head. I knew it was The Creature, but, I also knew that as we pace our ways in opposite directions, the malaise was gone. Strength or weakness? I was pushed through a kind of string theory, a pocket universe, by Rooster, a replica of the house where I finally lost, myself, my wife, two dogs, and my dear mother. All in the context of my cancer, cured myself, a stroke, and one kidney less. For an instant, the Roosters malaise was gone, and a foggy awareness of what happened to me. I could be dead for all I know. Or In my head. Well, all I know is I still exist, or I exist on some level. It’s not that I relate too well with humans, I might have never had in common with everyone else it’s always been awkward. I don’t know if I’m married, I never managed to get my psychology degree, my Business degree, I don’t have a house, I don’t have a job, I am a shitty father. I didn’t have it in me, to go meekly into the languidece long faced crowd, shuffle on through the motions. Education, finding a wife, a career, kids, a status worthy career. So how all that crap still gets on my nerves, I can’t reasonably asume after life is gone, your body becoming no longer of use, any of that crap can possibly matter to me anymore. I guess I was fought to much about what I wanted to be as a kid, besides that I was in mental pain at such an early age, and the evident chaos they had me living in. Mom coming home from work at her daddy’s office totally degraded and in tears. Besides this madness feeding the flames of chaos, they found themselves fit enough to tell me what I wanted to become. They never knew me besides a problem child, crazy ass kid, drunk little shit, they never took into consideration I never wanted to be dragged down to South America, apparently I was better off plugged into mediocrity where I can’t cause more heartache. All though My mother was right when she forbade me to be a stuntman at eight, just like Evil Knievel! The kid, who wanted to learn the arts, his soul dream of the become a writer. “Well, son, come here, (I walked behind my grandfather Korean War submariner, trying emulate his steps, we walked into his library)see all these books? Everyone one of them have a hell of a better education than you have. Son, (I replied with a yes Sir., see I couldn’t call my own grandfather, Pops, grampa, my only option was Don Ed, I sure as hell wasn’t pet his ego), you’re just gonna starve.” I love my daughter, she was my gift at seventeen, I love her in the best way I’m able to, what I have learned from, absent moms entranced by paper back love novellas, a stark old man who was full of himself, moms that abandon you though try to reconnect, emotions have overwhelmed me, a thirst for relay ability and love. Mommy was the first to show me about just how deep pain can go, she left me alone in a strange land. If I’m nothing, none of this would matter. Forced to learn another language, eat strange food, and as I got older I realized so many opportunities unavailable. Unavailable because I wasn’t were I was supposed to be. Rooster left, gone, so long, so long I begin to think of time so many days melting into each other, time waisting, a gush of water/time gushing out eventually spilling into or death across the floor, not after it’s made you know what sickness is, sorrow, contentment, happy blips, death, you get my drift. A downwards spiral, down, down reaching into a great vast nothingness. A precios commodity that man made, just a glimpse of a vast world we barely grasp. We have a moment A sunrise, a fortunate trip, Cliff side to the sea below. Effort in peering into eyes once loved. ===== You know, how as a child’s mother tends to make sure her little baby knows just how special the boy is, nothing but false rambling, or other moms aren’t able to relate and we become a problem child, “ You were a holy terror to raisei!” and mommy just couldn’t handle an unusual kid. “I would end up in tears at the end of the day.” A talented boy, smart and introverted; thus no one looking into it at all, it was just easier to mark me as hyper active problem child. A brat. It has become harder and harder acknowledge the barrage of days, time, that eventually became years off my bottled angst, failure, on, and on into a shit show of a life. === Having established that I do in fact exist, the crappy house, trees, nothing out the front door, is some kind of quantum bull shit pocket, a forgotten corner of the quantum fabric. I’m certain I will open my eyes, and even more years will have gone by. I want to go back home. If I am still here somehow, I can still fill my lungs with air, my heart keeps pounding in my chest. I acknowledge that I am nothing with out the other, and gives sense to all this. *******Banter, solitude is not to be taken lightly. Rooster expelled me here from the garden, a house of some sorts, poorly designed. I have a small patio with grass and a few fruit trees growing despite the neglect. The gut wrenching screams of dogs I can’t see flood the nights with rage and fear. Three times a day I listened to the raw unchained violence, teeth gnawing into skin, and the the bleating cries of an animal suffering. Scorching soulful cries only death knows. And the despair you find with another species, an animal you can’t see, empathy is shared like stale bread. I am not supposed to be here, it all truth, I have no place so far away, risking a eminent death, in the most miserable drawn out manner possible. I want to go back to earth, I really want to learn how to “ Socialize“ Be who I really am. ==== Man, I sit down on my bed, angry winds shuffle around the half a dozen curtains I scrounge up, one behind the other, and I keep it out. I see what many of you might be motivation, a new day, and even thank some god for it, to me it has been warped. Daylight was a painful ordeal, a long old wound awakens fresh anguish. I know it’s time for me to be out there, apease existential of pillar of a functional life. I have worked, since I was sixteen, but with the family. When I got a job at a five star hotel or Traveling Agent, I felt the rawhide of the collar brushing around my neck. Anarchism has always run in my veins, a perpetual foreigner, even my school teachers in the States gave me my fair share of crap, heavy big ass girls would beat me breathless in second grade, and Ecuador wasn’t any different, I just transitioned from a poor brown spic clothed in well fair clothes into a rich kid. I can go on and on… I was never a big ego guy, I felt just as good when a friend came off on top, but I caught on pretty quick what being an employee was all about. To be looked down upon, barked at, a little cog oblivious of just how dispensable he is and the wastefulness of his futile effort. Old perverts asking you where he can get a “Fuck, fuck!” while pumping his pelvis in the middle of the reception of a five star hotel in my direction, see only I knew how to speak English. I sat down, at the foot of a Bullfighter monument, after a midnight shift. This was 1996, Pink Floyd as loud as it went on my disc-man. 17 years old, with a little baby girl somewhere beneath the sleepy blankets of city lights. An after work beer, and I took out my Pink Floyd postcards for a teenage thrill, and was not supposed to be in the middle of a national monument. Police tended, I told them I was not doing anything. I went to take a piss, and they left, and I sat right back where I was, and gape at a city not having not a clue what to do. I felt so, so trapped, and therefore I saw what I had understood to be a no future, a loose apathy in a pitch black world, it was worse. It was punk in nature. I sang it so many times, and my generation was tangled in it. And to make things even better, in this place my mom brought me, if you’re related to some big cheese, if you’re not hooked up with important people or just inherited their money, you will have a difficult time getting ahead in life, if any. I just wanted to learn how to be a writer, I wanted to recite my poetry, I wanted to learn how to draw and maybe paint, in a country where they didn’t speak English. The sky has no clouds, just blue, blue skies tomorrow, and no chance of rain! I sit down on the grass just past the washing stone, I sit there amongst objects I know are foreign to me, used to it, ( You see an absentee father is never replaced by a frustrated alcoholic who wasn’t able to hold a blue collar job, nor a household full of women, grandma, you get the pattern.) Where ever I might be it’s an endless, flee from something I could never understand? On and on, country to country, shabby town to another, a major city perhaps? How about Texas, with a racist old lady I barely knew, where I was back in to my fantasies, making an awl out of a folded sock, I felt so much loneliness. Abandonment always leaves me with a hole, the raw gore of it drives you to obese with how hollow it feels, how to fill it, doubt in your own identity, and believe that nothing can be more important than filling it, somehow. === For the first time in a month and a half, the whole area changed to a soothing pale blue lightings, and the cosmos was swept over by a ghostly reddish aurora boreal. I closed my eyes, and pondered. Night laying all powerful over everything, I opened my eyes. Wrapped in darkness, my eyes were useless, and the realization that I was actually as much a part of the dark as I was with the grass, the sky, my fucked up house, and the nothingness beyond its doors. Rooster’s hollowed out eyes, woke in a fiery green flame, a few steps away from me in the black, that deep green glow I associated with decay, I felt the sickness. His holes looked like gnarled flesh, rotten, that are burrowed unusually deep into black, a painful ordeal. “Aaah, wasn’t baby boy all nice and cozy inside here? Hiding from the world, from disappointment, far away from those pesky people you never could understand, and (his glowing eyes raised back in a silent cackle) you seem to be pretty safe from failure out here! I mean, how further do you have to fall to finally become nothing?” “So many years you have decided to give in to the pain, you wander like a lost little boy trying to get his kicks when he can get them along his way.” I take a deep breath and sighed it out, “I am very aware that I don’t have many days ahead of me, and almost every one I loved has gone, I never really did anything or learn something through the mess and the fog of my life. I preferred to exist in my fantasy world, a behavior I learned as a kid to deal with the chaos of my environment. Eventually, you can’t tell the difference.” The sickness, of Rooster’s presence made me sure that he is out to snuff me, devouring my emotions, feeding off my anguish, my despair, all my rage. Resentment. Everyone who just up and left, all those times I was shoved around from house to house, just didn’t stimulate my potential. I had a serene, quite peaceful reflection of some sorts, a vision of sorts, I was sitting three meters across from me. I even noticed him enjoying the blades of grass between his toes! The same as I. “I can’t say if a life can be summed up on decisions, wrong decisions that are made by a flawed person, in someone else’s eyes, or” , he scuffed as if about to laugh, I knew it would be a another half crooked smile without bothering to look, “ And of course, all those who decide correctly feel free to push their weight around.“ “Rooster, this is not where I’m supposed to be. I want to go back home. I want to reconnect with people, find some place to call home. “I’m lost! I have no idea what the fuck you are, whom, damn it your just something I came across!” I gathered my self, “I lost my self, get it! What ever the hell I believed I was pulverized. All the pain and grief have lost all their meaning to me! “Whoever I thought I was, just stopped to be, bit by bit since I was a kid. Then, all of the sudden some prick in a white lab coat says to me, hey kid it’s game over, you got cancer, and it pretty much looks like it’s it’s in your lymph nodes, so good luck with that. “I had just gotten married a few months earlier. We left Argentina and psychology to come to my home and carve out a place for ourselves. A few weeks later I had a stroke! At thirty eight! “Three tumors were in my brain, affecting my language center. So, I said bye to my god knows how many times I tried to get my degree in business, and eventually to my job. “I was blessed with aphasia, making it harder and harder to communicate with my wife. She eventually left me, the dog died shortly after. My mother died on a Tuesday.” Rooster materialized into the crooked reaper like figure. He tilted his head to one side like some confused predator, his hand was showing, the cracks and crevices let the green light out. Unnecessarily long fingers and vicious unkempt nails. “Oh my dear friend, I have known you for decades. I am here to help the limp of spirit. I, feed on anguish, sadness, sorrow, pain, fear, sickness… (he paused for a second) despair.” I said, “ I a son of Odin, a wolf of Odin, I come from men and women made of steel, my life has always been about letting my ancestors down, yes, and I still have breath in my chest, the blood of my of those who came before me, and a true Viking keeps on fighting to the death, to become worthy. “I am not done yet.” I gave Rooster the sternest stare I could muster up. The black rags of this grim figure caught the draft, shooting out like black tentacles, flickering, and it was hard to deny, Rooster appeared as a crooked, ill, and corrupt sort of angel of death. His hood was over his eyes, pacing in a square, a black kind of blue gunk seeped from his lips and onto the floor. “Your time is almost done.” Rooster pulled his hood back over his boney shoulders. He was hideous, all decay, rot, and a hideous crooked jaw, drooping open, wet, purple black, gushing out black muck. “A life wasted, look child,” , the Rooster sat down, with his legs crossed, at his feet a deep indigo fireplace, pop and crackle. “You wondered in search of mother, lost because someone left you, and you needed to fill the hole. Fill it to feel complete!” He broke out into a degrading cackling fit. “My time is mine, how much or how little of is my burden, you worthless cunt! I get it, I’m connected with where I am. “I am not a limp soul, I am better than this, forget your maimed human to abuse, humiliate, self-sabotage. I am not that troubled sixteen year old that slit his wrists, tired of feeling so sad, inferior, anxious, in general my family just wrote it off as alcoholism. No more, Rooster, you fuck! “Make a decision, kill me, out here in this cold black nothingness, I would have died out here anyhow!” I stepped up to his gros face. “You can’t kill me yet! (I was in a fit of laughter, mostly relief.) you have to break me into nothing, a husk of who I used to be.” The Rooster knew I was right, there are certain rules that must be observed to keep the chaos flowing. I saw his putrid stinky eyes tremble in frustration. The Rooster’s voice grew deep, stern, you could tell the violence brewing inside of him. “Very well, you little shit, let’s have it your way. Keep one thing in mind, (he stepped so close my organs felt like they were imploding) when this is over, and you finally go over that edge, I will make you suffer.” Just like that, I was naked in a corner of the ship. Close to hypothermia, and the blue gunk all over me wasn’t helping. I acquired a blanket, and planted my wet cheeks on the freezing bench where I could see through the main window. There I was just enjoying the nothingness of deep space, watching nothing, nursing a profound feeling of sorrow, longing for someone who said she loved me. Buff humbug, everyone eventually leaves, even your own mother. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
