The Walls

The walls

they surround

they closet

they hide.

I need, never leave.

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Litter

I sit, surrounded by litter,

daytime TV droning,

sinking, into the sofa.

Deeper, and further

I sink.

Life goes by.

 

Career

I always find when I stand at a bar I become invisible, I can never seem to project myself so as to be seen by the bar staff. I have found myself taking half an hour to be served in a quiet bar before. This has probably fed into one of my main fears and phobias in life, automatic doors. I always worry that I will be invisible to them, it just will not open for me but will for other people. Would this finally be enough to send me over the edge, the final part of the irrefutable proof that cogito ergo sum is a fallacy?

I take a photo. It has lochs, hills, and trees in it. I post it and prove that my life is great to everyone so we all can move on and not bother with interaction. I complain about interaction but really am I craving it?

No.

Definitely not, do I protest too much?

Still a no though. Interaction brings complexities into view. Do both parties fully understand each other or not? Generally, not, because no one actually listens. When things in your life go really wrong and people notice they will all say to you that you should talk, “if you only talked we could have helped you”. You hear that a lot and all the time in your head you are screaming “I told you. I FUCKING TOLD YOU 20 TIMES!” People just don’t listen or as I believe they have already worked out what you are going to say so that they can carry on a conversation in a certain direction, so what you actually say just doesn’t matter as they have decreed what you will say.

This is when you realise how meaningless words and language are. No matter how you try and use them, how rationally you use them, or even talking as verbosely as you can manage, no one really listens. The moment that you all sat down at the table they had already pre-arranged the conversation in their head, they might not even have noticed but they did. The conversation will all be out there, most of it you may feel is inane but that is how people get through their everyday life.

They talk and never listen, listening would mean they have to take into account their surroundings and well that would spell disaster for many people. They would have taken in to account how all their dreams and hopes were lying shattered around their ankles. They can never afford that house they really want, they will never be paid enough to do that but rather than give up they carry on doing the same mundane tasks that are rotting their life away from the inside of their soul to the outside selling of their labour.

They will sit and tell you how they are not a slave to money but they will always describe themselves by the job that they do. They will never describe themselves in any other way unless they are unemployed and then a form of shame will come over them and they will be a freelance shelf stacker or something similar. Just awaiting that right vacancy to come along, it never does and this is why people can not communicate.

They are ashamed of who they are. They hate who they are. If we talk without using our pre-arranged script then we are liable to give ourselves away. We would be opening ourselves up into a whole world of acceptance and despite our protestations, we do not truly believe in self-acceptance as an option for life. It is much easier to keep plodding away and pretending that everything is going just how we planned it in our career book.

Plastic

I pull on out of the passing place and carry on with my journey, the windows are down, the sun is shining, the world feels like a great place, especially if we can forgive bus drivers. I look out and can see sheep in the hills, walkers striding with purpose towards distant cairns, the odd person out on a hang glider, a mere speck against the luxuriant blue sky. I can smell the grasses and feel relieved today that the pollen is not causing me an adverse reaction. There is nothing quite like being sexually abused by plants to put a damper on your day and make you wish you had to take yet another drug, or at least brought half a forests worth of tissues with you. Today was one of those spectacularly beautiful days that Scotland can occasionally throw up.Read More »

The Car

The people walking along the street don’t mind me sitting in my car. I mind me sitting in my car. I should be doing things, building things, creating things, or even just working mindlessly in some job that does not matter to anyone. I should be doing anything but this. I am doing this but I can’t move. Going anywhere just seems a waste, I can’t go home as I don’t feel at home there, I can’t go out as the idea of talking to people scares me. I could go a drive but where could I go? Anywhere. How do I get there? I would need petrol, I don’t want to speak to anyone. I could get petrol a coffee and a packet of crisps all at once. Limiting how much I have to talk to people. I don’t want to eat, I feel nauseous, it must have been that waiting room. Coffee then? I’ll be sick, don’t buy one. It’ll be waste, don’t waste money, what about the plastic waste, don’t waste money or time. I have all the time, well let us go somewhere. Where? Anywhere? How? I look at the car, I could clean the car, it needs a clean. I’d have to go home and get the hoover. Don’t go home. I can’t go home. I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes now people will be wondering. I turn the engine on, I put the radio on. I should really dust this car, that is a lot of dust. I can’t go home, don’t go home, stay here. Yes, I’ll listen to the radio for a minute. I want to explode, I need to cry, I need to scream. I want to bash the steering wheel. I just sit there and don’t look at anything in particular but everything in general. It all wells up.

Mindfulness

Waiting rooms, they are all imbued with the same sense of desperation and boredom. Going into a waiting room in perfect health is a sure-fire way to make yourself ill. I sat down on my plastic seat, the type fitted with fake plastic cushions, designed to sit in exactly the right places to cause maximum discomfort. The pale flickering of the strip lights would give me a sore head, I was sure of it and could feel the early tinges of a migraine coming on.Read More »