Thinking into the B[o]x

It is a beautiful night here. I have risen from my funk like the mighty phoenix. Well, perhaps a tad bit less graceful. Like a mighty pigeon, I'd say. This night is certainly aiding in the lifting of my spirits. City life is something else. During the winter, the city is alive. Certainly, it is more active than rural/suburban areas, but you don't truly notice the life until the weather makes that warm shift. My block is as filled as it would be at 2 in the afternoon. I wonder how I will make it outside the concrete confines of this world I've known. I'll have to find out one day - I refuse to be here until my bucket tips.
I am tired. Exhausted! Which brings to mind all those celebrities who pass out, or cancel work because of exhaustion. If they only knew real work! I can't afford to claim exhaustion and call out from my duties. Can't afford it in regards to finance or sanity. What is this nonsense of sanity, you say? Well... I'm a workaholic. Have to be, because I'm also shamelessly lethargic.
Perhaps lethargy is an incorrect title. I'm just... easily disinterested. If I don't dedicate myself to something 100%... whatever percentage that has been put towards it will slowly diminish until I don't care for it at all. Ergo, if I weren't a workaholic, I probably wouldn't work. I've been trying to work (love the appearance of that word now, though it isn't even remotely humorous - I got a laugh)on getting over that mentality... but I often find that this old dog has a VERY hard time learning new tricks.

Off of that for a moment... I feel the need to comment briefly on the state of the world. This Virginia tech shooting was absolutely shocking... but not in the way you'd expect. What shocked me most was my initial lack of shock. It seemed nothing. A guy goes crazy and kills 32 people? And...? Where's the new and surprising kick? This train of thought was quite disturbing and begged my attention at a rather late hour of the night. Upon pondering it, I realized how large my tolerance for human behavior is. I suppose being psychologically 'different' myself (heh... how very politically correct of me. I want to say ' being a fucking nutjob myself') has exposed my mind to some disturbing extremes, but nevertheless... shouldn't I have been saddened? I found the need to look up personal pages of some of the victims on facebook and myspace to put personalities to the faces I saw in the news paper. That was when I was truly hit. My deepest sympathies go out to the families affected. I apologize for my fellow primates... we often have trouble seeing beyond ourselves. I do feel sorry for Mr. Cho. Whatever twisted his mind into the shattered mess it was before he spread it across the 2nd floor of that building must have been a terrible event. I believe that, for the most part, we are the sum of our experiences. Genetic disposition may play a small role, but life experience holds the heaviest sway. Whenever I see someone whom I would write off as 'disturbed' I always take a moment to wonder what brought them to that point. In a sense, I pray for them as well. I prey that then can forget those horrible memories or perhaps, if nothing else, use the memories to strengthen their resolve. I pray about as much as an agnostic atheist can pray to whatever it is I pray to. This world is a mess. But, as I traverse this tired path - beaten by countless feet before mine - I can't help but appreciate the mess. In a realm of such lows, the highs are quite euphoric.

Blue Eyes and Low Lids

If I promised to love you,
would you let me stay the night?
We could do that dance again
That tired trot again.
I've memorized the steps
and perfected every sway.
In the morning
I'd be on the floor and you...
You'd be on your back
Wishing me away
Wishing to wake up somewhere far from us.
Sweetheart, this waltz was old when we began it
and now...
It's beginning to rot.

Apple Flavored Oranges

Hello one and all. I know, I know. You're thinking 'Jeez, this guy never fucking writes.' You'd be damn near right. I rarely do these days, and I am losing my own interest in my older shat. Meanwhile, being reminded of how shitty Bipolar Disorder is. I talk alot of garbage about being able to handle it, but only because it seems almost unreal when its not in your face. I had a manic burst about a week ago- spanned about a week at that- and I was afraid of when I came crashing. I have, and it fucking sucks. I forgot just how much it fucking sucks. I'm manic far more often, and while that is far from great I find it to be more manageable. Perhaps because I'm more accustom to it. I don't mind the irritability because I don't have to deal directly with it. The anger it causes isn't that bad because I'm used to anger. Anger was the center of my existence when I was younger. The fast-paced and irrelevant thinking processes are fine because my thoughts are usually pointless anyway, if I have more, but cycle through them faster I'm getting the better of the deal. The weird obsession with death is... weird. But, I'm used to that also.
Depression, on the other hand, fucking sucks. I'm sure some of the people reading this have experienced depression, maybe a few of you are even BP's. It is no fun, eh? I literally feel the urge not to exist, just to talk a break from the whole process of being. Not suicidal, mind you. I find that to be cowardly, and if there is anything in this world I refuse to be labeled, its a coward. I'd rather die a fool. Foolish, I know. I don't know why that is... ask my subconscious.
Anyway, I could write for ages.... but really... I don't fucking want to. This piece is new. Unedited. No desire to edit it. Read it damnit.

Written Nonsense

Listlessly listening to the sounds of my breathing
Watching the pens shadow dancing on the wall...
I want a cigarette.
I want a vacation from reality
but I can't afford my dreams
-the sleep would be the end of me.
So, instead I sit and wonder
'My soul will return one day, won't it?'
If not, I haven't much use for this husk - want it?
All the world is grey and slowly fading
My meters a muddled mess
and I nothing more than a dog who
howls like a wolf.
Oh how I want nothing more than a vacation from reality
but I can't afford my dreams
-the sleep would be the end of me.