Lazy from C-Z

What was painfully odd to me, at the beginning of the foray into the subliminal liposuction of my grossly incandescent professional transformation, was the slow and perspiring descent of lardy over there to graciously, and maybe even begrudgingly, accept me as one of their own. Kind of like a very long-winded induction-cum-hazing into the silly little microcosm of who-gives-a-fuck, making one wonder what was all that hullabaloo over these past few weeks were for; a haven for hypocrisy, perhaps, or self-doubt. It is somewhat reluctantly disenchanting to feel due to the manner with which it complicates my relationship with others and myself, first and foremost. This is precisely how I came to be, not the one I used to be, but the person I feel like I truly am; one that ceases to partake in the jests of pollution for fear of being taken for less than nothing. For however relief I feel compares to absolutely nothing when it finds itself accumulating into moulding rage at the back of my hea...

So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So n...

Why can't I stay two places apart turning my life around? Am I not the same person who won't let go when the light shone out of the sound? Every step I take I lose my way The one who turns around will make me stay Now I can't lose a step When I found that one person who's right ( sorry for choosing you ) I gave them all my miles They don't have to thank me just hold on and fight ( counting my mind out of sight ) because I love you Every storm is close to chasing me But I'm halfway where I need to be Now I can't lose a step No way I can lose a step I can't lose a step Every step I take I lose my way The one who turns around will make me stay Now I can't lose a step No way I can lose a step I can't lose a step

The thrill of pursuit lives on. It is hardly a miracle to think of it as such. Most days I clamour the hunt and the chase and encumber myself with empty pockets upon return but such wealth to be had in the abstract. If I lose this game, will I lose myself? Or if I lose right now on my volition, will the scar heal in time? Such petty pessimism. If I order an upgrade to deluxe home-grown cynicism, would it all have been better? I play my own mind games, one with no actual victor. So every single time I get the excitement ahead of me, it just twirls in a loop; from joy to sorrow to scorn to joy to sorrow and to scorn again. Perhaps there is a reason, or perhaps there is none, or perhaps a show of life, or maybe a learning to live and lo... see what it does to me? Lost in the reveries of hope that never will be. Left hemisphere, right. You left and you were right. All apologies. I am... happy. No... for how long? It should not be. I... There is no inspiration to be had in pure bliss. My mi...

When the bedroom door creaks at the sound of silence and the kitchen weeps when the knife kisses my finger crimson inside me Then love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again Where is my favourite coat? I never used to ask these things Because they just come when I least expect it when I'm not looking But love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again My phone screams for me to wake up The weather is nice The sun is up My countenance runs dry It's not the one The one I'm waiting for But love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again

It is only now that I fully understand the implication of that last message. Finally a dot to end it all... I suppose. For what good is goodbye if the maybe still lingers? For me and them both. And somehow maybe it is best that I feel the disappointment this way. No contracts, no commitment, nothing to bind us with one another. Just another dowry piling up at the temple of wayward hearts. Now I need to accept another true fact: I will never be the one who knocks. I will never be one to win. I will never be one to succeed. All the efforts up to this point reduced to being just one amongst so many. Jack of all trades, mediocre of one. Functioning at this current stage proves inadequate. The sting still persists. I could do something to help ease the bruising, but there are not a lot of options. I could eat or drink or smoke or drug myself to oblivion, but that has never been my nature. Perhaps because this agony that I am marinating on is a relatively new feeling, if one considers half o...

 Smile when your heart is aching when your wounds are bare when your fingers twitch and the nights are cold; Smile though no one is watching when nobody cares when the singers stop singing and the roads are barren; Smile like no one else dares so when you laugh the world starts laughing with you not to you because the moment you weep you will always weep alone.

Yes, that is right, the focus should strictly be on me. Your guile is unwavering, but I have had my fill of doubts, and so far it is only nesting its tendrils on to my being, biding its time, holding on to what is beyond, and to be honest I only give it a little bit of reprieve because it is somewhat harmless. For now, at least. There will come a time where I will need it, and there will also come a time when I need to fend myself in order to discard, but that is none of your concern. My wellbeing is a byproduct of my own environs. These stimuli is only here because of me; I asked for it. So it is best to venture out on my own. Always on my own. Best for me to be on my own. It will always be the case, no matter what happens. When I tried once to argue against my best judgement, it ended with defeat and utter humiliation. Scraps of it still visible to this very day. So fighting my own battles the best way I know how is to accept that some things will never be deterred, regardless of ho...

Had I been slightly more careless, I could have attained a freedom I yearned for for so long, and yet I missed that opportunity by an inch. Do not fret , I tell myself, for time is of the essence . Ahh... as I sip my wine contemplating whether or not this new week will bring me bounty or heartache will be up to the clouds. It is always a gamble. You could say gambling was always on the cards. Every single time I have to take a modicum of risk I always remember my father, for he was the one who worked diligently in a casino in the past. But gambling has never been part of my system. Nowadays I hardly take any chances. Anything less than a hundred percent is a no-go. This is precisely why I have been holding myself back, weighing the options, seeing the woods for the trees, or are there anything beyond the wolves or the chupacabra lurking within the swamps? Should I or shouldn't I? Most of the time I do start to wonder which one of these two will come first: The delectable crashing a...

Waking up from a lousy dream hits differently. Something is clearly wrong with my body, its physiology. The last time I have encountered this is through anxiety brought on by emotional trauma, and I despise it, it makes me seem weak in hindsight. Three people in a day, two simultaneously in the morning dooting my bells. It kind of hits differently. It kind of makes you not want to miss the one that is actually missing, for me the only one that truly matters. But it is already lost and would not want to be found. No matter how much I frolic like a dweeb at the sight of those doots, it matters very little when the purpose of it is inconsequential. I do not like it when things mean nothing. Why do I have to prove a concept like love while they simply have to just accept it? Every piece I give is one taken away from me. It takes its toll, and the payment is meagre, almost uncharacteristically and comically minute. It is trifling, because I do want reciprocity to be equal in its value. It n...

A lot of things could have been much worse. I can say that about a lot of things. But time is a cruel mistress; it does not wont for anything. I should sleep this off, but the thing is I can barely contain my anxieties. In a few hours it is back to work for me. But before so, I want to say that my dreams are all that matters to me now. There is nothing that will hold me back any more, not even the images of failure will prohibit me from trying to attain. So in the midst of all this commiserating, I will finally enable my senses to run amok. No more fetters, no filters, no shame. I will be whole again. Yet in my mind I find I cannot rely on myself. 

Every muscle in my body is on lockdown, tight leash, morning glory, permanent aches. But I must roll my reserves. Months and years ago I would question my decision now to persevere. I simply do not have the will to go on like this. But here I am and here I must, for absolutely nothing at all. Superstar was what she called me, and funnily enough my neuro-otological impulse was to horripilate. I never respond well to compliments. Welcome as it is, I think it is superfluous, gives room to complacency and misplaced ego. Olly told me the same thing last Saturday. I must needs stand up now for it is time for me to show a well-rounded confidence befitting my station, although to be fair nothing at the moment still feels much deserved. Everything is a hand-me-down for now. When I do get to that point -- or if -- then murder is the quickdial I will first peruse. One day I shall see the wood for the trees. And I also had a similar interaction with Ainhoa about it. Not much can be said but more a...

A small lightning in a bottle. Nothing that I deserve. But every hour hurts and the last one kills. Misery tucked away in pints for posterity. It will be over. That is what I tell myself. The destination is nowhere with no means nor how. Smile as if I meant it. Cry as if she died. If only I let this one slide out. August chills. Let me go. Let me go, let me go. If only I could tell myself to end. Time flew fast and nothing to show for it, still far and away. I could be happy, if nothing else, just be happy. Rise, no ashes. No hope. I give up. Rise, and one day die and die again.

Time flies but it is never enough. Perhaps the most damning tell about how life has changed is the preference to be outside the realm of norm. Getting older and being more composed -- well, I have never been composed. These things supposedly are the hurdles to overcome prior to reaching natural maturity. Some are moulded by their circumstances, some are moulded by necessity, some by fear, and some by heartbreak. In the grand scheme of things, I have had none of these things, the things that give some value or flavour to being. Mediocrity has somehow always been my opulence. The rest of the short days ahead will never be valued as highly as I have ever had since last I had a proper taste of true happiness. That is a primary issue -- I no longer ever remember the event that I consider to be the happiest I have ever been. Kate's arrival a few days ago kind of shook my boredom away, but it meant very little in the end. We shared precious moments together, and she even spent a few days ...

Right before my night's sleep I took a stab in the dark and saw a glimpse of light on the floor. A tiny wick barely lit. It was as if it expected me to gape at it in awe. The next thing I knew I was transported into a vortex of unknown quantity. The moment's blur was too quick for me to count the time, but I quickly collected my consciousness not too long after the sordid affair, and I was standing in front of a kiln with a haunting figure attending to it, and the creature that stood before me had a terrible countenance, almost demon-like in its appearance, neither man nor woman. It stood there as if it expected me to be there. It paced around as it lit the machine. It never acknowledged my presence, but I knew it knew I was there. I neither spoke nor moved out of fear until it opened its mouth revealing a hideous-sounding voice, deep and gravelly. The creature, still attending to its machine, then asks, "What is your verdict?" I had no inkling of his subject, so I st...

There is a feeling inside me to want to be deposed from my current position just so I could step back and start the longstanding rehabilitation of my soul. The setbacks are almost pronounced, even subliminally to an extent, without the need for an outside intervention, but the more I think about addressing it, the more I realise that the fundamental issues raised herein are subcutaneously programmed to eke out of my being and be expunged from the main concern of the argument, which is the person that I am now. No amount of liberal thought processes will cure me of this impediment unless I myself will it to be so, but in order to even cross that threshold I must slowly allow myself the excuse to be absorbed in its aether wholly. I have to let go, horizontally, vertically, in all diagonal angles possible. This is the only way. Love comes in a form of a speck of hope, and in this micro-reality that exists tangentially from my current disposition, it is in my best interest to lose ever...

The dominoes are starting to turn, blacks over whites, and I find myself smack-dabbed in the middle of it all. Where it leads and where it hurts, come what may. A little bit of satisfaction will only delay parts of the inevitable, considering where I am in the current stage of my life comparatively with others, and in a few days I will hit the hardest hitting half-life of my life. We all were born for this anomaly, and sometimes you just wake up to this realisation and there is not much to be done about it. The best method of cure for madness is stoic self-care, at the risk of everything else. People have been asking me to love myself, well here it is. This may be our last chances to ever grace each other's vicinity, and there will be times in life wherein not speaking to someone for the rest of our lives is a form of self-care.

Somewhere out there there is a light that never goes out, and in the midst of that special space is where I need to be. I do not care if this is metaphorical or intangible or illusory, I would rather live in a dreamscape and bury myself in perpetual virtual bliss.

A fix for the longing unburdened by desire War of hearts and minds wind up in a fleeting pyre; Restless beginnings  lead to broken end The cure for nostalgia will be a decade-long bend.

And today I start wondering to myself: Has there ever truly been a good reason to smile? Little reasons, probably, to aid in the slow death march onwards. The clock unticks for no one. There was a little happiness on the side, some cold cherry on the way, and whine for breakfast. The last one is almost always the worst. There is very little to suggest things are going to change, and it would have been great or so if things had not been so monumentally hard to carry. I can only take so much for so long until my back starts to sore, and then when that selfsame burden unravels into all the reckoning and vindication and punishment for one, it will be hallelujah for the masses, glasses clinking at a wedding, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree. So the smile is theoretically not impossible. Every now and then my facial muscles twitch into shape at a minor event or two. Even at work, believe you me. But the thing that makes man bite dog is that yesterday I have opined to myse...