Getting to Know Me

I am not worth getting to know. I've let millions pass through my fingers. I've destroyed companies, brought my own personal finances to near death, and I am not known for any major contribution to humanity other than my passive existence and contributions of work. Most of which, add up to a role that can be easily replaced.

I breathe the air you breathe, and exhale toxic carbon dioxide. The green grass does get a little greener - but then again, so does the grass near or beneath a patch of dog dirt. I drink the same water you drink, but I have also tried to help purify the waters that others have tried to drink - and at time of writing, failed. So, it could be said that unlike the cool, pure water that you drink and enjoy - the water that I have helped bring to the world, at least at time of writing - is dead, horrid tasting and worthless. This may be different next week, but we're not talking about the future. We're talking about now.

I am in an office, and the ever present hum of machinery is my everyday sound. I don't see the outside world, just an LCD screen. Yesterday, after work - I forced myself to go outside and it was like a shock to see the natural world. Even though I work hard, I don't work smart - and sometimes my deadlines stretch on for weeks. I can be the least reliable guy you'll ever know.

I have things that are broken. My leg, for example - was broken in several places. So was my hip. Shattered. My nose has been broken. My wrist and hand and foot all have been broken. My heart was broken.

Some of it doesn't mend. I have scars. Big ones. Not emotional, but real. Where I landed, and my body got stuck on a nail before it tore me open and I fell ten feet to the ground. I held myself together with my hands. Blood everywhere. My dad laughed and then stitched me up with black thread.

I get confused. Sometimes too easily. Where am I? What am I supposed to be doing? I can turn on a Television and just drift into a happy state of half-thought. Truly enjoy the state of not-thinking. Sometimes, people's names are impossible for me to remember. Even the most simple associations baffle me.

I am weak. I can barely do a proper set of pull ups. 5k's feel like a drag through pack ice with a bunch of huskies chained to me. I get winded picking up a washing machine and moving it across the laundry room.

My mind is a clouded mess. I have no discipline. No focus. No ambition. No desire. I am a complete waste of space. And time. I have had great teachers. I was taught how to dive by Navy SEALS. I was taught Physics by Paul Adrien Maurice Dirac, and his students. I was taught how to paint, in watercolor and oil. But my paintings are absurd representations of the world around me. They are not photographs. They are colors colliding upon canvas.

My writing here. Is colorless.


Anonymous said…

What has happened to you? A man who once sang to me in a tunnel, now seems so depressed and lost.

My thoughts are with you.