cont. from 10/25/2005
As we drive along this freeway the conversation fades away cigarette smoke from the old rodeo days in Canada. I think one of her hometown friends call her on her cell phone and they're discussing her upcoming divorce. I get bored and my mind starts to wonder...
I think about my own life and where I'm headed and why I'm taking my own sweet-ass time doing it. I think about my personal life and where I fit-in to this world and what is this world anyway? Is it a playground for the privileged? Is it a temporary hell for the rest of us? Is it the paradise that we're all screwing up and not getting the point? Is it the end of the road and we're all fools? All I know is I'm here to do one thing and that's why I'm carrying a gun, but who will I point it at in the end? In my mind I see how I could use it on myself and I gag slightly, a small dry-heave, if you will. I hide that convulsion from my driver and move to other thoughts. I think, "would my wife miss me?". Would she? And why? Am I enjoyable to her? Do I bring her joy and am I fulfilling her with what she needs. Am I even capable of fulfilling any one's needs? Am I like my father...selfish, unsympathetic and unable to communicate? Am I like my mother...controlling, bitter and jealous?
I think, again, about that gun and dry-heave two times successively and the driver pulls over rapidly, dangerously in this wet, black night blanketing this road we're on. I throw open the car door, put my right foot on the ground lean out the side and vomit...blood. Into an oily, iridescent puddle on the side of the road I throw my blood and various pills and vitamins that help me pretend to be normal and healthy. And there amidst the muffled "Are you OKs?", in the blood and half-digested colorful bits I see it all so clearly. (Never once to let go of the gun because it's either her or me tonight) All those dumb mistakes and missed opportunities. All the things I've done to myself to help me get by all the while I should've stopped a long time ago, not realizing where this would lead and how I would end up. Sometimes having the strength less than that of a small child, sometimes having the self-esteem of a rape victim. Sometimes foolishly thinking I was successful and thinking I could really pull-off something before I gave up the ghost. For a few fleeting moments every-so-often I though I was on the right track and could keep myself together. But every time, reliably, my emotions would destroy it all and remind of how fragile and inconsequential I truely am. I see people everyday, who have all they wanted and would never find themselves staring down into their own bloody, Zoloft-ridden vomit on the side of the road in the middle of Georgia. Some hot lead would sure taste good right now.
You can only fool yourself for so long...
But, then I think about my son. The source of all the good in my life, the thing that reminds me of why we are all here. He shows me wisdom, compassion and laughter more than anyone else in my life. There are times I get scared and overwhelmed and all I have to do is envision his face and I'm clear of all that negativity. I can hear him telling me after I have laid all my fears upon him and telling me, "You can do it, dad, you're smart.".
I think about my own life and where I'm headed and why I'm taking my own sweet-ass time doing it. I think about my personal life and where I fit-in to this world and what is this world anyway? Is it a playground for the privileged? Is it a temporary hell for the rest of us? Is it the paradise that we're all screwing up and not getting the point? Is it the end of the road and we're all fools? All I know is I'm here to do one thing and that's why I'm carrying a gun, but who will I point it at in the end? In my mind I see how I could use it on myself and I gag slightly, a small dry-heave, if you will. I hide that convulsion from my driver and move to other thoughts. I think, "would my wife miss me?". Would she? And why? Am I enjoyable to her? Do I bring her joy and am I fulfilling her with what she needs. Am I even capable of fulfilling any one's needs? Am I like my father...selfish, unsympathetic and unable to communicate? Am I like my mother...controlling, bitter and jealous?
I think, again, about that gun and dry-heave two times successively and the driver pulls over rapidly, dangerously in this wet, black night blanketing this road we're on. I throw open the car door, put my right foot on the ground lean out the side and vomit...blood. Into an oily, iridescent puddle on the side of the road I throw my blood and various pills and vitamins that help me pretend to be normal and healthy. And there amidst the muffled "Are you OKs?", in the blood and half-digested colorful bits I see it all so clearly. (Never once to let go of the gun because it's either her or me tonight) All those dumb mistakes and missed opportunities. All the things I've done to myself to help me get by all the while I should've stopped a long time ago, not realizing where this would lead and how I would end up. Sometimes having the strength less than that of a small child, sometimes having the self-esteem of a rape victim. Sometimes foolishly thinking I was successful and thinking I could really pull-off something before I gave up the ghost. For a few fleeting moments every-so-often I though I was on the right track and could keep myself together. But every time, reliably, my emotions would destroy it all and remind of how fragile and inconsequential I truely am. I see people everyday, who have all they wanted and would never find themselves staring down into their own bloody, Zoloft-ridden vomit on the side of the road in the middle of Georgia. Some hot lead would sure taste good right now.
You can only fool yourself for so long...
But, then I think about my son. The source of all the good in my life, the thing that reminds me of why we are all here. He shows me wisdom, compassion and laughter more than anyone else in my life. There are times I get scared and overwhelmed and all I have to do is envision his face and I'm clear of all that negativity. I can hear him telling me after I have laid all my fears upon him and telling me, "You can do it, dad, you're smart.".
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