Silencing

I learn it again.

Its tough to draw a hard line, state something like it’s the truth when what you really know is that somewhere back there, it don’t mean a thing and its all the same anyway. It’d be nice to think, yeah those old hobos up the road in the jungle, they have some real love there, they have some real loyalty and that’s why I wanted to choose a life of transience. I wanted to choose something simple, something without so many distractions and real honest love and loyalty. Didn’t realize that I’d had it the whole time from the family, but just the same. I wanted. It takes a while to realize that everyone backslides, everyone loses their shit, everyone is looking out mostly for number one and that most everyone has got a lot of shit to take care of and aren’t really looking at yours much at all.
It just matters how you use that loyalty and what you love, and if you can be selective and put those things in the right places that will build you up, well that’s about the only way you’re going to be able to get ahead in life.

Does this make sense? You see, it’s the same thing regardless of whether your watching out for the family you’ve made, the family you came from, or yourself. Pick the right loyalties, pick the loyalties that will actually take you somewhere. Get away from the hate and anger and anguish and really focus on those things that are going to lift you up. Caring about things can do that, it can also drain you. So its just another one of those things that are the same no matter which way you turn it. Every curse is a blessing, and every blessing a curse.

Sometimes it feels weird to write this out. I ask myself, what is the point of it. Is it to share through my experiences the things that I have found. Is it assuming that you haven’t also found it? Is it assuming that maybe you will understand me better if you read something that I don’t even know why I feel the need to write.

It was one of those things from the age of 5. I just started to fill up notebooks. Jack Kerouac always said that he was writing the duluoz legend so that he could just read back on it in his old age. He died at his mom’s house in Florida and while I came pretty close to doing that a couple of times, I held on and got the fuck out. ********

I dreamed of finally getting out of Tallahassee. I dreamed of the days that I would be able to not look on the streets Id grown up in, not be around people who let that town encompass their world. It wasn’t a place I thought particularly special and im pretty sure most people there thought the same thing about me. Easily seen, I just never knew that it would be that easy to silence me. I thought I had gotten over that, and instead it just cycled back around. Socialization is a pretty fucking hard thing to kick.

I thought that to silence me, it would take an army and instead all it took was myself. All it took was thinking that most of anything I had to say was pretty worthless in the end. It was hard to write. It was hard to think that anybody would ever want to know anything I had to say. I knew I was doing it too. I would go out to Jackie’s housesit just to try to write that summer and nothing would come out. No words that could describe the inner turmoil that was tackling my brain. How worthless I felt.