a brick through the window

In three days, I’ll be thirty-seven (that is of course, according to the Gregorian calendar).

I’m not happy. I feel like I’ve been buried alive. Mostly I’m just gasping for air. I have my body. I have my tepid breath. I have a will that is relentless. Beyond these things, I feel mostly devoid of anything that brings me joy. Somehow, I manage to bring joy with me even though I’m mostly dead. This is not an admirable trait. It’s actually hell. People speak of going through pain with a head high and a smile on your face. It sounds noble. I know. But it’s not. It’s just sad. True misery. Never being seen. Carrying your sadness in silence because you’d prefer not to spread it.

So, you’ve become an alchemist. You’ve turned your pain into joy and strength. And no one knows. No one knows you hate yourself. No one knows you feel hopeless. No one knows you’re hardly able to put a foot over another. No one knows you think often of quitting. It would only take a minute. Stop breathing. Let the weight of the earth finally crush you. But you can’t. Cause your life is not your own. You don’t know who the fuck owns it. But you’re sure it’s not you.

And the truth is, it’s not you that’s broken. It’s the machine they bore you into. A death trap. A human soul grinder. Like Brandon Flowers said, The kingdom of god, it’s a pressure machine. And lately it’s been crushing me. Like a vengeful enemy with his spear in your guts. Pinned to the earth. You can’t move without tearing your own flesh. He pulls it loose of you from time to time just to see you crawl on your belly like a dog.

One more step you think. I won’t die here. The future’s brighter. I just have to hold on. I just have to move. And just when you think you’re free, his shadow appears over you once more. His laugh splits your soul into equal parts anguish/despair. His spear pins you again. You only wish he’d finish you off.

And that’s just the thing. Your will to live. Your will to win. It’s inextinguishable. This is your curse. A fighter in the tenth round. Only there’s no bell. And every opponent you face down and crush beneath you is replaced by another. Demons. All of them. You kill one. Another appears. You fall beneath one, and the pile of vanquished rushes back to your throat like hungry dogs. What am I doing this for? It doesn’t matter. You know you can’t quit. So, you throw up your guts and summon strength from somewhere and something unknown and unknowable. Your spirit. A war steed. A bulldozer. A tank with infinite lives.

Goddam whoever built me this way.

But none of that matters. Cause you were built this way. You are this way. The thing is, you’ve been in the corner so long. Backed down. Bleeding. Defense is all you’ve known. But you’re afraid to swing. Why? Why am I still covering? Why am I hiding my claws behind cotton? Why, hiding fangs behind pursed lips?

Why are you letting them hit you!?

E

|

NUFF

Who cares who gets hurt. The truth can be that way. Why continue protecting people who’ve left me to die? So, if that’s you, I only have two words:

FUCK YOU

This is my story.

You want your story told? The whole world is listening. Go right on selling your rotten fruit.

But it seems the only way I’ll find an ear is a brick through the window.

(you may want to duck)

Our story begins with a boy and a curse. The boy is brilliant. He’s talented. He’s powerful. He’s indominable. Those around him are jealous of this. They used their power to summon the devil. The devil arose in the disguise of god. His brothers and sisters spoke, It’s not fair! He has everything! He’ll outshine us! He’ll be too powerful! He’ll destroy our world!

The devil agreed. Only, he knew something they didn’t. The devil had been permitted only to fuck with the boy’s environment. He was forbidden from ever harming the boy’s body or physical health. These belonged to the gods. So, the devil, being a devil, went straight for the boy’s world. He bore him to a brood of vipers. A clan of torturous liars. A clan of divisive egotistical bastards bent on brain washing the boy into submission. Still, the boy’s will prevailed.

The devil had grown lazy. He thought his trap complete. Finally, he heard back from his legions, Errrr … master, the boy has foiled us at every turn. He’s bucking off his saddle. He’s spitting his spiritual porridge. He refuses to take his place in the machine. What shall we do?

Well, the devil, being the devil, was obviously raging. He murdered half a million souls just that morning. When his anger finally quelled, he had an idea. Go for his guts! he screamed. Heap upon him responsibility in weights that will crush him! This was done. And all agreed, they’d seen the last of him. The party raged. The boy endured.

One day, the devil turned a corner and ran himself face first into a smiling, whistling boy. Well what in hell has got you so happy? he snarled.

Well sir, this past year, I took on more than I ever thought I could. I gave more of myself then I ever thought possible. I conquered fear and doubt. I made myself strong. I’ve become invincible. I can do anything!

The devil saw the light behind him. His eyes shone like diamonds. This was his boy! How in hell’s goddamned name was he still breathing!? The boy walked on and the devil raged.

This time he tore down buildings. He burned merchants and banks to the ground. He went for the boy’s legs. For he knew that a wolf with no legs was merely a begging dog. He ripped from him first his career. The boy stood tall and began to transition. He went for his mind. The boy blocked him out. He went for his wife. He used her words and actions to poison the boy even as he slept. He went for his sons. He went for his pockets. He went for his family. He couldn’t stop himself. He’d gone mad with anger. He was losing his bet. The armies he’d camped outside the boy’s shell were failing.

So … The Dragon himself came.

The boy cried. He gnashed. He stood. He fell. He brandished steel. Then retreated. He stood. He fell. He wondered often, what preyed upon him so vigorously? His family cursed him for a coward. They prayed daily at the altar of this devil. God! they called him, save our brother from becoming something good and noble and powerful! He is doing the job we were all supposed to do! This is making us all look bad! STOP HIM!

The devil heard them. And this time, he wasn’t fucking around.

He sent devils dressed as angels. They gave the boy intense and artificial love. Only they abandoned him the moment he fell. He sent spies to record his worst moments and display them publicly. He sent the boys own father to curse him for the fool he’d become while his mother begged the devil to make her son miserable.

What lot? the boy finally asked. What crime have I committed to deserve all this? Have I not always striven for the greatest of good. Have I not sought you, god of heaven, with every breath of this earthly life? What price am I paying? You’ve taken my sons GOD DAMN YOU! My sons! You’ve taken everything!!! What is wrong with you!!?

God was silent.

God had always been silent.

The devil? He never shut up.

You’re a loser. You’ll always be a loser. You’re a coward. You’ll never win. Give up! Don’t you get it? I’ll never let you up! This game goes on forever! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

The boy, he just looked.

He Blinked.

Then smiled.

I know.