Starting Stories: The Cyborg Who Looked

The streets were a mixture of fog and firmware. Anywhere he looked, he could just as easily have brought the sight to mind and stored the wasted energy for more pressing activities. With so much to do at the factory, any bit of inessential endeavor reminded him of his shortcomings. His attention wandered, where other’s simply did not exist. They did not see a tree, or a street at all. They saw purpose before them, and so they walked. They were strong, and he was weak. He would never hit ^2500, let alone ^1500. Mediocrity clung to him like the day’s birth dew to his cold-steel shoulder.

Morning rose further, and with it, the sun. Its light would power him for the day–he could tell by its brightness. He already knew what it looked like, and knew there was nothing to gain for looking again. If he could just keep his head down, perhaps today…

But, he so enjoyed to look.

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Depressing Musings

I worked out today. It was nice, even if it was out of anger.

I got in a fight with my girlfriend, shortly after we woke up. I was irritable because my job did not give me hours today, and I had been hoping to finish up. Other employees say it will be like this for the rest of the week, because of the holiday weekend.

My job is very annoying. I know this is no excuse. I apologized. It wasn’t enough. She is angry with me for doing this on more than one occasion.

I don’t know. I guess I have been caught between happiness and a crushing sense of being lost and lonely. I’m finally at a point in my life where I can concentrate for a bit on what it is I want to actually do. I do not want to be stuck at a couple dead end jobs that help me pay rent. I would like to find something I love and pursue it.

One of those things is voice acting. I have trouble pursuing it because I am embarrassed to try and do voices while others are around.

Sometimes I wonder if I would like living alone. I don’t know if I would. I get very lonely, but then I also get very sick of people. I feel like I have all of the worst parts of being extroverted and being introverted just mashed together to make up my personality towards others. I need time to recharge, but I am also very happy entertaining large groups of people.

I don’t know what my father was like. I never met the guy, or heard much about him. My mother seems to like to keep to herself, and my grandfather was a very popular singer and actor at his college. That’s all my mind really goes off of when looking for an answer to why I am this way.

I don’t have many friends anymore. I mean, there are a few who would still say we are friends, but we rarely, if ever, hang out. I can’t say they are sorely missed, either. They were never very close friends anyway, despite what some obscenely drunk nights might tell you.

I don’t know if I enjoy being sober. Sometimes I find it very refreshing, like I’m a day that finally decides it isn’t time for a storm. I love the rain, though. Always have.

I never thought I would have a steady girlfriend. Past-me would be very happy to know that much, at least. I spent a lot of time as a youth going after people I knew I could not attain, and relishing that feeling of wanting something I could never have. Then, when I could have it, I would reject it. I suppose that means my significant other is a testament to me growing up, at least a little.

I like being productive, but I don’t know where to put all of that drive. I want to put it somewhere fun, but I also need money. Said everyone ever, right? I should be happy to have a roof over my head and moderately good food to eat.

Will I always just want more? Will I always be miserable, no matter how far I get? Will I die with regrets?

I hate imagining old me. It’s like in those movies where, they look in the crystal ball and see a miserable, wretched silhouette of flesh and they go, “well idiot, if things keep going the way they are going, you’re going to end up like that!

As of now, I’m going to end up alone and sad.

This is coming across as really depressing. I’m really not that terrible depressed, I don’t think. I am sad, but I’m sure it will pass.

I have always needed therapy. If my mother had made enough money to not go bankrupt on more than one occasion, then perhaps I would have been able to get some as a child. I always had anger issues, anxiety issues, depression. I guess not always on the depression front, that only started when I was 12 or so.

Depression is such an asshole. Makes you feel so comfortable in your numb, lifeless world. Then it has the gall to say, “actually if you aren’t diagnosed, I don’t exist! You’re just a loser! HA!”

Dick.

I have my mother’s insurance until the end of the year. I should see if the place nearby accepts that insurance, and how much it would cover. I just want someone to finally be like…

Yes. This is a problem.

No. This is not how you should be feeling.

Yes. It is okay.

No. You are not crazy.

No. You should not lay down and give up.

Yes. You can get through it.

Yes. It is real.

Yes. You are loved.

Yes. You matter.

No. You are definitely not crazy.

Yes. Talking will help.

Yes. I can help you.

Yes. Maybe medicine would help.

No. You do not have to be afraid.

It is scary. It is okay to be afraid. But you will be okay. You can breathe.

 

You can breathe.

 

That would be nice.

Whoah, Feelings (Parody Poem)

This is a parody of a poem I read earlier. I’m sorry in advance if anyone is offended by this. I mean no disrespect. This is just my sense of humor. If you actually enjoy it, then all the better! I’m gonna have some fun writing it. 

 

Whoah

dang

these feelings

are in

my head.

They are

real

because

I am

thinking

them.

 

Geez

watch them

float by

like

a leaf

in a river.

 

I cannot

keep up

because

my thoughts

are long, and

my legs

are short.

 

Slow down,

thoughts!

Slow

down.

 

Wow.

They

didn’t

slow down.