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the wave of depression that grew as i left manhattan this morning has decreased. it now resides in the pit of my stomach, a ever-persisting knot that refuses to go away. it's the reminder that life is short and my weekends are shorter. soon it will be monday, and your mental and emotional beatdown will start all over again.
the nice thing about a two-hour travel home in the early part of summer is that the days are at their longest. so you can enter the subway at astor place and by the time you get up to dyre avenue, the sun is saying hello to the moon as one punches out and the other clocks in. even the most desolate streets in your neighborhood seem tranquil, with the occasional passing car providing contrast to the ambience of the birds in the trees, dogs barking from far away, and the steady pace of your feet.
my website has come to a standstill. i have no time to work on it anymore. i'm sensing the beginning of the end. for all intents and purposes, it needs to be funeralized. it really doesn't serve much of a purpose now, so it will more than likely be a standing archive. some days i halfway resent it - its past reminds me of days of vitality and having the hunger to constantly write and post - but i can't stand the thought of pulling the plug on it altogether.
i came in this morning to find my wife sleeping soundly in our bedroom. i gave her a pair of kisses on the forehead and she didn't budge. it's daylight outside the living room window. more birds and passing cars fill in the silence along with the hum of the computer.
i came to the conclusion that there are four things that would make my current job more bearable:
- a travel expense budget
- frequent flyer miles
- a pair of pliers, and
- a blowtorch.
but i think i know what i want more than anything...out. i want out. not just my job, but the whole thing. life in general. i don't want to do this anymore. i don't have the energy. each day has become a needless extension of the one before it. i want to go. i want to be with God. i want the rapture to come. i want Jesus to come back. this is not working. it is only on the other side of eternity that i'll given a specific purpose and responsibility, one that i might actually be able to do well. i want only to deal with the spirit realm. this moving about in flesh business does not agree with me. i'm no good in this earthly tent. these days, i'm just liable to say anything. i can't remember a time that i've been so prone to outbursts and anger.
nausea, fatigue, nervous twitches and delirium are all telling me to go to sleep, for i've been trying to type for the past twenty minutes and the words aren't coming out right. while walking home, i kept looking up at ledges and wondering what it would like to take a much-needed freefall and hit the ground... just to make sure that i could still feel something. my life isn't dire compared to other situations. i know that. iraq is dire. darfur is dire. there are far worse scenarios on an international level. but the moment i don't complain is another moment of pent-up tension that tends to uncoil in the wrong place at the wrong time, like yelling at managers and sales reps. been there. done that. and it's all leading me to a bad place. in my mind, i've traveled cross-country to kill, main, and injure severely whoever's on the other end of the phone line. i've beaten co-workers with the phone receiver, smashed their heads into my computer monitor, slammed their fingers into file drawers by holding their hands inside and kicking the drawers shut. i've run down the hallways, glocks in either hand, shooting randomly.
the lines in my face feel deeper, like i've aged 13 years in the past six months. i don't want my future child to see me like this. i don't want them to have to deal with an angry and embittered man for a father. the only sleep i seem to care for is the kind you don't wake up from. at least then i know i'll be getting enough rest.
i'm not cut out to be a missionary. i'd rather be a monk. but you don't grow on your own. what God needs to have done requires interaction with others. that's how i know i can't do this. each day i get up with the best intentions and they're all dashed against the rocks before lunch. each day i come home bruised, battered, and scarred. i can't rejoice in suffering. it only makes me more hostile, particularly since i seem to be under the mistaken impression that i'm above all this. life happens. so you deal.
i've tried. this is a losing battle. what can be gained by prolonging that type of an existence? i'm mentally checking out. perhaps if i'm numb enough, i can no longer feel what's happening to me.
but i'm not built to feel nothing. and i strive to be a man of peace and not war. and God told me that i'm more than a conqueror through Him.
so i sleep. the type of sleep that reenergizes you and refreshes you. the type of sleep that you're meant to wake up from. God willing, the Lord
will see fit to find a reason to let me see another day. because if the truth be told, i don't want to die before i find out why God put me on this earth.
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