Signal Deflection

4.26.10


Sitting here in the early hours of the dark morning, my desk lamp pulled downward over my filthy laptop to not disturb my guest sleeping on my bed. I'm wrapped in a pink flowery blanket, and it all feels like this could all come crashing down at any moment now.

At this point in time at 1:32 am on April 26, 2010, I wonder where all the time has went, how did this reality come into play? I look back on things that seemed like they happened weeks ago to realize it's been months, over a year. Time is sly. You have to watch your back around it.

It all just slips out underneath you, and you're left alone with the only true possession being the heartbreaking realization that no one can help you except yourself. It's the cruel way of this uncertain world. I'm now 20 years old but I can't help but feel that I'm much older, that everything that has happened to me has somehow been so surreal I question if any of the things I remember ever actually occurred.

The events of the past year, especially the past 6-7 months have been epic, vicious journeys into the beet red heart of insanity itself. Relationship hostage situations, extravagance, running the entire university newspaper into the ground in a filthy whirlpool of egomania and dxm madness, money laundering, me being caged up in my bedroom exiled from the world for all of December before lashing out against my captors, strange sexual encounters, before it all went up into a massive THC smoke cloud.

Now, that's all over. I can almost feel the shift, the change from one period to another. The future is uncertain, filled with monsters lurking in the impenetrable darkness.

One voice says 'be crazy slacker neurotic madman of questionable genius' and the other says 'get a job and go to school you lazy, insane fuckhead'.

Granted, they both offer a compelling arguments but in the end I can only take one step at a time, and I can only be the result of the environment I've walked into.

Does this mean I'm easily manipulated, some kind of sick bastard operating on the mental equivalent of a hardcore S&M video, set to submission almost by default? Jesus, it just can't be. I can only realize how I feel inside my head, trying to replicate it with language to my confused and weary companions only results in a kind of signal deflection, a broken translation of what I 'really meant to say'.

It feels like there is so much more to life than what meets the eye, so much more to the world and the universe than we could even comprehend. It's always a realization that's tantalizing because it has the texture of words at the tip of the tongue. Just out of reach but forever grasped for.

The quest for truth, love, beauty, is always worth it, but how much do you have to pay? How long can you sustain yourself before you're swallowed into yourself like a violent ocean undercurrent? What will you take with you, what will you say then when you're there? This is what I... It was me the whole time.