Sunday, September 23, 2012

These past few months

These past few months, I've traded away a piece of my soul to do and be a part of something, which, in the end, may only amount to being only slightly greater than myself. I've sacrificed aspects of my life, my mental, emotional, and physical health and well being; precious sleep- I've done and said things and crossed some lines to accomplish acts in an unwinnable and, forgettable war. Some things were mistakes and failures, some things were successes, and some were, I don't know, serendipitous? I do have regrets and, maybe all my decisions weren't all necessary, maybe there were better decisions to be made, but overall, I think I'm unapologetic and resolute, and stand ready to deal with the problems that are no one else's but my own.

But me! -A God damn brooder. Over and over again, I interrogate myself - "What are you doing? Now you're a mess. Is it worth it? Was it worth it? What now? Why do you push so hard? Why do you punish yourself? Why even bother? This will all be over in a few months anyway. No one will remember what you do here, what does it matter?" [Summon combat drone, cast Overload ability, empty shotgun in general direction of Marauder's head, run away, take cover, repeat.]

In the face of futility, the American thing to do is to go out, stoically, with your guns blazing, while being less needy than a martyr. Everyone hopes for a Rorke's Drift, but more often than not, you get something like an Alamo or a Thermopylae, except no one gives a shit 'cause it's you and you're a drama queen. -It matters to me. -Because I care. I care about doing a good job. And, although it doesn't bother me, I do care what people think. People will associate your name with the work that you do and judge you for it - I do it all the time. I judge people for fun, even when I don't have a leg to stand on to do so. I can also probably safely proclaim that, “I ain’t runnin’” and, “I ain’t no quitter.” And so I continue to strive, to continue to learn; to get better; to progress.

As I find comfort in the intangible, to try to rationalize my actions away ('cause that's what we do as people to make ourselves feel better about... ourselves), I am reminded of the stories of people who have said and did questionable things against their beliefs and moral integrity to gain the respect of their men; to inspire them to perform to the best of their abilities in the face of adversity - not because it's their job, but because they don't want to let their boss down. I also look to the method actors that prepare for a role, doing things that inflict harm to themselves for the sake of falling so far into their craft, to give commanding performances, left only to clean up a devastating aftermath they believe is so worth it. I think it's incredible and challenging and noble; not everybody can do what these people do; what these people are willing to do. Some people cannot even comprehend these "doers'" line of thinking, maybe because they can't imagine living their lives that way, probably because they're a religious zealot -but not me; I get it. I don't even have to give it a second thought about these people; they're pros, and that's what a pro does. I'm a fucking pro.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

A trail of bread crumbs; A light on the porch

Each night, in the solitude of dark, dedicated silence, I recluse deep within the depths of my breast and unearth the shards of my heart that still belong to you, purposely anchored there by the empty hopes of our happily ever after; Carefully tended to and cherished as relics of a golden age. These smoldering embers are all that remain of a once mighty edifice.  The shards bring pain to the touch as fresh stab wounds; it's a wonder why anyone would keep such wretched things.  The waves of pain envolop me until it seems I am submerged in a soothingly warm ocean-It is here where I will pacify the painful withdrawals of my addiction, and escape reality for a while.  Sadistically, I wrap myself in these dead hopes and dreams, as they provide warmth and comfort, and rock me to sleep. They're not shards, I wish to myself; They're a beacon.