Contentment

Contentment…I treat this word with contempt. Trying to pay attention to only the positive content but something always wants to tempt.

Resentment is an overwhelming feeling I have to admit. Trying to stay optimistic under the pressure to submit.

I have this head that feels like it’s not connected to a neck. It sounds weird to say but it is even more weird to live with it.

In this head I live most of my life while my body operates on auto. Sometimes my head wanders off into the distance, chasing the horizon and when it does this I don’t even notice until I find myself examining hieroglyphics in Cairo.

I stand in the shower looking over at your life – I see your kids, your street and the rat poison in your kitchen corners and the luck in between that’s keeping your toddler from eating the tainted cheese.

I ask my head, why are you so messed up? What did I do to make you like this? How can I ever become a better person when you always say that isn’t enough? And why do you even bother to make me think this way if you won’t give me the answers?

My head never answers and I’m left with the blame. I’m trying to focus like all the other robots in my class but you want to make me feel special. You tell me there’s something better to do and distract me from reality…

O’ yes, I know there isn’t any better. I don’t know why you lie to me.

Discipline Discipline blah-blah-blah, if I don’t control you, I might go tah-tah-tah. Label me lazy for a daydream that never seems to end. This is how it always goes, I get a nice thought and begin to write about it and it starts off well until I get to this point and my head gets out of it and all I’m left with are fingers picking letters composing words, makes sense or not doesn’t really matter coz IDGAF, I’m a Millennial so you already know my problem…

I’m lazy and entitled is what they say. I’m crazy and delusional to think the world revolves around me. But you told me I could be anything from President to astronaut, you put no limits. But now I’m here to claim it and you resist, so I persist in my head to imagine – to dream of me on mars bearing Columbus’ scars! I heard that history repeats itself so I wanna be on the front line when she comes, not stuck in a cubical surrounded with pastings of motivational quotes from people who beat the system only to become the system and take turns on our lives, dopamine dopamine dopamine – I’m a junky, you’re my hit, I feel all fuzzy inside…Roses are red but I’m pansy inside.

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Truth Hurts.

I couldn’t stand being rejected, so I rejected. I couldn’t bear the weakness, so I suppressed. I couldn’t risk being cheated so I cheated first.

The truth is a tough pill to swallow but it heals the wounds that the eyes cannot see and the flesh prefers not to feel. The lies are so comforting, not taking the pain away but turning me to another direction and wheeling me further away from the pain of having your life-long dreams lying slain in plain sight, all that little boy called “me” wanted to do was board a plane for the first time and fly off to see Spain.

Growing up afraid of the dark and now I’m so dark deep inside where the sun don’t shine, until the day when the devil says “now you’re mine” and doctor’s flashing that light into your intestine concluding your autopsy – “too much wine”, your death is nothing devine and your mama is left to whine over your graduation picture captioned “The world is mine”.

The truth hurts, that means your happiness is a lie and that’s why you’re so offended every time God enters the conversation, telling you that he knows the drill – the devil just wants to kill – and steal – destroy. If you’re looking for some muscle you’ve got to lift some real weights. And if you’re looking for knowledge you’ve got to read some real books – Oh if you’re looking for some joy you’ve got to seek the real you.

The comfort zone is a prison cell, a rotting hell – leave some bread there for a week and you will tell, do the same with some cheese and you could sell. Some billion people out in the world and I chose to live in a shell, I can’t take the criticism but I need their love to fill a “me” museum big enough to rival the colosseum. And if somebody threatens to dent my pride, I’ll run him over and film it for the world to see him.

I told you I’m afraid of rejection so I came up with my own objection of everybody and everything and there was no exception until it became a real obsession which turned out to be a sad reflection – that I’ve become the very thing that I feared and hated and now my childhood dream to change the world is looking outdated and I might not ever get to shout out a loud and proud, err …”Mama I made it!”.