by Troy Jarmes
Thoughts, experiences and feelings.
|Hi. My name is Troy Jarmes. This is my story whether it is incomplete or finished. I am 23 years of age at this moment and it is the start of the summer 2014. More specifically it is 23:18 the 18th of june 2014. I’ve just been watching Repo Men with Forest Whitaker and Jude Law. Amazing movie, see it if you can. I realized as I watched the movie that I had seen some extraordinary things too. I’m not like Repo Men but we’ve all seen or done something. I’ve asked god to help me come and I’ve sat on a mountain crying because of my broken heart. My heart that hasn’t healed since. This last year has been troubling for me.
Chapter I - This last year
I’ve been sick for more or less a year and I still dont know what is wrong with me. My last doctor says allergies. I have been crying, writing, drinking and smoking excessively. I have fucked up my body and my system. I can feel my heart beating if I just run 10 meters. I am completely out of shape.
Today I saw a friend of mine (perhaps former). I was sitting in a bus that drove by him and his friend. I called him and he didnt pick up. Then I sent him a message but he didn’t answer. It had already occurred to me that he might not want to talk to me. Last time we spoke at Christiania, we were both high and I started speaking about drugs. He had previously explained to me how he hated when people did that and I had promised him that I would never speak of it again. Like so many other things that I have promised. It’s all hollow words when I speak.
This past year has made it so clear to me that one day I will die. Before the thought used to be able to kill my entire night. I wouldn’t be able to sleep or anything, I would just cry. I cry quite a bit. I see it as manly. Only strong men can let themselves be exposed like that. Weak men hide behind thin charades.
A person who has fucked up and forgotten so many things as I have, becomes extremely good at apologizing, explaining and gaining peoples favor. But it fucks up my relationship with the people closest to me. My brother and his girlfriend especially. I just dont see my role in the world. I tell everyone that I will travel abroad and escape the safety of Denmark, learn more languages, start an organization to help 3rd world countries like Brazil and India. I attend at the university of Copenhagen. Hardly. I don’t really study until the end of the year where I go to the exams and get just the bare minimum that I need to pass and then explain to me my mum why I didn’t get higher grades. As always she understands, I make her understand.
I justify me being curled by my mum by telling myself that I could get so much more if only I accepted the often offerings of money, clothes and help. Fact is that I am a lazy, not too smart, out of shape, creepy smiling, small-dicked dopehead who’s only quality is my heart for others. But I can’t even tell anymore whether I am being nice or promoting myself, saving friendships or trying to get into someones pants. There are too many variables in the west. Good fucking quote.
Fuck it, let me be the worthless failed writer with a kid who hates him. Self pity lasts a lifetime.
Chapter II - Day II
One tries so hard to forget ones failures and the times that one has been a prick. Shame brings us down and reinforces self pity and makes us forget our limitations. Embrace your failures as well as your victories, only then can you get the best out of every situation.
Not too bad for a half high guy who just came watching pornhub.
I think the pain in my head and neck which I previously blamed on smoking weed and cigarettes, is really caused by the way that I sit when I am high and smoking cigarettes. I seldom relax my neck. I realized this because I also get the neck and head pain when just gaming at home.
I hung out with some good friends to night. Nice to feel like having friends again. All stoners though. Yet they are all intelligent and doing well. Rosendahl is releasing music which I actually love and Benni is going to Bosnia to write his bachelor. What is the definition of good anyway? More and more I feel like quitting my studies and getting a carpenter and gardener degree. Then I could do all the other shit I like to do while working as a gardener and carpenting at home. Why the hell not? I could be the first 6-lingual professional gardener. Hardly.
Tomorrow I am hanging out with Rosendahl to get girls. We are going to get an araba cut so we look sharp before the town. I just have to work a few hours at the office. Emilia doesn’t seem like she’s “on it”. I went down to the basement with some files and she was there. It’s hard to stock down there being 2 peeps so shortly after I got there she said looking almost annoyed: “Ill just come back when you are finished”. Jesus am I that creepy? I actually thought we were going good. Anyways I tell her that I’ll put the rest of the files into order so she can just go up. She says thanks and leaves. Later when she is leaving, I find myself trying to figure out ways to get a glimpse of her ass. I give up when I realize how stupid I am and then I nudge that feeling out, telling myself that I am a real man and that’s what dudes do. All in a matter of seconds. So much fucking happens.
Good night (in 1 or 2 words?)
Chapter III - Dreaming with your eyes open
Too tired to write. Must study.
Went to work today. 4 hours late and no one says shit. Does not exactly make me want to work harder. But hey I can say whatever I want to my boss. A doctor told me I had stress so now I can do whatever I want. My boss just praises me. I don’t have stress. The abuse of drugs, not sleeping enough and being sick can provoke some stress-like symptoms and I have no doubt that I have suffered of this but actual stress is far fetched I think.
Exam on Friday. Nervous as fuck the whole day. I meet my dad at random as I’m waiting for the bus after work. He gives me a ride home and to my brothers apartment and back. During the ride I load all my problems on him as well as my thoughts about quitting university. He supports me. He really does not care as long as I am happy. I wish I could get kids earlier so he could help raising them. He’s the wisest man I know. He does a lot of dumb shit sometimes and says a lot of dumb shit too. But when it comes to life and what life is about, there is none that can match him. I figured out the meaning of life today. Its really simple, beautiful and a kind of egg and hen thing. The meaning of life is to find your meaning of life. I think you’ll know when you find your meaning of life. Everything has consequences. People almost always just talk about the negative consequences like a father who smokes and dies young but gives his disciple of a son a last anecdote. This anecdote might make this boy grand scientist or a respected and loved activist in the 3rd world. And maybe, just maybe if his father had not died, the young boy would have grown up to be a lying, weed smoking, unambitious dopehead with nothing between the ears and even less between the legs. Or maybe they are the same person?
About my exam and my worries. I had a pleasent feeling. If something really makes you nervous then think of the rest of your life. The infinite possibilities and adventures you will have. The persons you will love and hate, the money you will make and the money you will lose. Is this thing that is making you nervous really something to be worried about when thinking of how little it is compared to your future? No, of course not. Unless it really is a life-changing decision, in which case, you my sir, are fucked. Or just has reason to be nervous.
That and the motive speaks the truth. Facts are useless.
Jim Morrison singing me to sleep - This is the end.
Chapter IV - A beer before nighty night
The suspicion of having aids keeps popping into my head and tears my heart apart. I would definitely kill myself if I found out that i had aids. The thought of my life ending is a thought that has plagued me for months, years even. Though in the last 365 days the thought has struck harder. Whether it has been because of me being sick or just because I am growing older, I do not know. The worst part wouldn’t be the fact that I would die. The worst part would be telling all the girls. There are so many girls that I care for. I care for almost every single girl I have ever slept with. If they came to my doorstep and asked for my help then I would help them. I told the ones I came close to that I would always be there for them. I wasnt lying because I do care for them. Even when they turn their back on me, when they yell at me, when they sleep with my friends, when they ignore me or when they humiliate me. In many ways I am weak. Most ways I think. I am weak willed,
Fuck it man, someone (me) should start a terrorist group against capitalism and the power of money. Just take all the fucking people who thought it was okay to shit on everyone else. Get them all on their knees on a row, read out their crimes and then execute them. I would love to be the guy to pull the trigger. I can funnel my rage enough to do that.
They sip their fucking wine while people starve and die. I hate them with all my hate, I hate them. Donald Trump, the Maersk family, etc. Fucking all of them. Bill Gates is fine. That’s what rich people they don’t get. We are not after your money you dumb fuck, that’s what YOU are after. We are after YOU. If find yourself having vast amounts of money and you don’t spend it on something worthwhile besides your temporary pleasure then i don’t see the point of you living in this world. The choices we make, echo in eternity - Russel fucking Crowe. But he is right. The choices you make are going to have an effect on your children, on your society, on your friends, on your wife, your lover, everything and everyone around you is affected by what you do in one way or another. So don’t give me that bullshit that you don’t know what to spend your money on or some bullshit like “I’ve earned this”. FUCK YOU, there are people working a million times harder than you everyday who earn less than what you pay to turn on your tv. You shit on mother earth who has given you life. Who will give your children life. Maybe your children will be fine, maybe your grandchildren too, but after that it all goes south. As the wasps die out we lose oxygen and we all die, or global warming kills us all in a giant all consuming tsunami because you didn’t give 2 fucks (or 1 for that matter) about nature, the future or anything besides your immediate pleasure and temporary future.
Coming for you.
Troy truly yours
Chapter V -
I wake up at 7 - grab a shower and I head for the university. Thinking that day I regretted having taken the HIV test just before my exam considering that if I failed the exam then I would lose the money that the state gives me during my studies. It’s hot outside but I would have been drenched anyway. Every second I dont think about the exam I picture the different outcomes of the day. Dead at the hospital after jumping out from the 5th floor? Partying with my friends laughing and making jokes about how I could think I had been close to a life threatening disease? Here writing and putting my pain and deepest sorrow down in this document? Fucking some random girl, celebrating my HIV penis?
I enter the examination room. My teacher is a young and extremely sympathetic intellectual with a major in comparative culture studies. The censor seems okay. They ask me loads of questions and I answer with the history of the Balkans that I know. Good to be on homeground. I pass the exam. Not with flying colours but I could give a fuck. My friend congratulates me, I act happy which was easy because I was still very surprised. I exit the building, lit a cancer stick, call the hospital, they have my results. I race to the hospital. I talk to my buddy at the university, he congratulates me too and asks if I want to meet up over a joint later on that day and I say that I’m going to be busy. I’m terrified. With the exam gone, I am left with my doom. The most terrifying thoughts.
I arrive and they ask me to wait. I go the waiting room and I stare at this old couple sitting in front of me talking on the phone about some garden party, in a room filled with leaflets about HIV and AIDS. I am dark under my eyes and I’m sweating like a racehorse. Every glance I get from any doctor or nurse I immediately try to analyze thinking that they all know whether I have HIV or not. Total paranoia. After 5 minutes a nurse comes and asks me to come with. My first thought is: Run for your fucking life man. She tells me that I shouldn’t be worried, and I look at her asking with my eyes what the hell that means? We enter a small office and in her hand she has some plastic bag with what looks like bloodtest tubes in it. As soon as the door closes, she says that I’m not infected with the HIV virus. I almost collapse in the chair in front of her. All my paranoia and hate for the nurses and doctors just evaporates. I smile and we chat a bit. She seems relaxed as if she is on break. I ask her, since we are just sitting there chatting, if I need to do anything, she just says no and smiles. I exit the building calling my mum, my dad, my brothers girlfriend and I tell them of my relief.
Today is Sunday. Thinking back it was really stressful but I still don’t feel like it was anything terrible. Later Friday evening I even joked around about how my life was now empty because I had nothing to worry about. I am a white male student from a above average income family in Denmark. I’m not sure I was wrong.
I don’t remember who said it (probably Dalai Lama or Gandhi) but its a quote that is stuck in my brain. I heard it in danish and I haven’t been able to find it in english so it will be my translation of it. Wealth brought depression to the west. I find it hard to say something worthwhile against it. I feel more and more that I seek out pain. Call me a drama queen but I often get the thought that something shitty should happen soon when I am bored. But it isn’t the same as being bored like I don’t have the right video game. It’s when my whole life just floats away but nothing fucking happens. It just feels like a waste, like my life is being sucked out through a vacuum. That vacuum is wealth.
Besides, what is pain anyway? A lot of pain can become pleasure, just like danger and adrenaline kicks. A lot of soldiers who go to war don’t like life when they come back. Not just lately or in the last few decades. I wrote a report on it when I was in high school but it was about the first world war. All the poets who wrote about it and who survived the first world war, were also in the second world war. Both German, English and American. Hurtlocker is also a pretty good example of it.
I used a reference to a movie the other day to counter a mates argument that all rich people work for their money (stupidest thing I have ever heard). He thought it was stupid to use a movie as reference because he thinks theres a clear line between fiction and reality. I respectfully disagree. First off, the amount of truth our media gives us, is less researched and less worked material than what they use in most movies, series and books. Second off, it is your brain that decides what reality is. So what is reality and what is fiction? Just like that theres almost a reason or a grain of truth behind myths and rumors then I find it (within reason of course) completely okay to use movie references to explain problems in real life. It is possible to make an exact copy of a scenario or an event which would be fiction but one could still make it happen. So what is it?
I have so much I want to write but I’ve helped some friends move today for 8 hours, so I’m spent.