The duality of existence

Rise and shine I am once again awake to the bliss of existence. It is a time where I now work on weekends I can’t remember the last time I went to church but still gotta put that aside and get to work. There goes the routine: run, shower, shave, breakfast and then get to work! There is a little SpongeBob inside my head that yells I am ready I am ready at the back of my head. I don’t really mind him. He keeps the adrenaline pumping. I have a good feeling about today. That money is not going to make itself. So then I walk out of my apartment with confidence that shakes the earth to it’s core. This world is my oyster. When I was heading out I see a man wearing a t shirt that says “Apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:1-8.” I look up to the sky and wonder if that is his way of telling me I should have come today to church? Oh well no time to think. I hope I have a blast.

Laughter**

He looked up and started to walk around his cramped up apartment for a moment leaving what ever he was writing unfinished. His bed room was a mess. The floor was covered with dirty clothes he never makes his bed and it has been a long time since he did his laundry.

“Yep I still refuse to get a cleaning lady I don’t care if the dirty dishes in the sink rot.” He shook his head in a ‘never mind’ manner and got back to his writing. He wanted to continue writing this fantasy of his where he is a self absorbed optimistic businessman who is eager to live.

A sudden question pooped up in his head. He is never honest in his journals or blogs. He is just writing down the entry of his day to day activities with a fantasy of what he would like it to be. Scratching his head he took his moment and opened a new one to start all over again. He looked at his watch it was 5 pm ‘well before I go to work’ he thought ‘Here goes honesty:’ He started to type. These were private little confessions only for him to read.

“Say hello to the bad guy” he wrote it in all caps and underlined it then he began his confession, another piece that held pieces of himself; hoping if a single page could hold on to a life time of sorrow and compensate for his angst.

“I will always incline toward what hurts me the most. I will always chase after what will bring me my demise. Surely you must know. It should come as no surprise to you surely! I surround myself with people that pretend to love me but hurt me the most and I only grow closer to them. I try my best to pain my body torture my being while I am stuck in this meat prison and when breathing feels heavy hence the tiny cuts on my skin to let me some air out…..let some toxins out. I drain myself with things that are fruitless I engage in conversation that will only trigger the fucked trauma of being me. What ever surrounds me I make sure hurts me in the end one way or another. I stay away from all that is kind to me. I grow apart from peace. I set my world on fire watch it burn and crash burn my flesh with it’s flame…. Hoping that the little light that still keeps me going dies and I decay. Turn to dust. I only see a future where I will only end in hurting myself. I will sacrifice myself to those I love but even then there is a strong hatred that comes with it; the need for hating all that I am.

What ever that makes me…me I will only grow to hate and what ever promises to end me I grow fond of. I am devoted to my pain and I worship the suffering I inflict on myself I am in love with the enemy I have become for myself. I set myself free by ruining what ever is good for me. If others don’t hurt me my own thoughts will. In the end I will always find a way to drench in my sadness romanticizing the suffering well I built from all the bad things I have sharpened to sting me.

I am just one of those people who will eventually kill themselves at some point in their lives. I will say I will never kill myself but deep down I know I will do it some day I

don’t know how but I am pretty positive about where I stand when it comes to taking my own life. You’d think as a successful writer I’d be more optimistic towards life but no, I think of suicide as an option rather than something I should not be thinking about. It has always stayed with me hidden as one last stunning act.”

When he was done writing it was almost time to get ready for work. So he closed his laptop and started getting ready.

By day he was an overachiever communications manager for a well know company(too ambitious, too workaholic) By night he was a writer. A successful one. Who has had five books published (best sellers) By day People looked up to him. He was the symbol of positive thinking. By night he was falling apart. Barely functioning.

“Today is going to suck.” He exhaled already tired “Or how I think it will go in my head. But luckily for me I am a pro at fake smiling.” He looked at his watch once more. Half past 7, “The hypocrite triumphs.”

He left his apartment ready to fool the world that he is happy while he hopes deep down someone sees right through his bullshit. There, he marches again to preach what he fails to live.