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Calibration Catalyst
Like a taut bundle of wire through my being,
my soul,
the alignment centers...grounds...elevates.
From my niche in the center of Earth,
my cord soars to the heart
of beautifully obstructive satellite.
Veiling Light, Moon accelerates unnoticed life.
My pillar perforates until it again finds Light,
flows toward the nucleus of Sun
and beyond - to the center of center.
Beginning connects present connects end.
Masculine is feminine
and feminine is masculine.
Ancient DNA frightened and enlightened.
Coronal fringes wisp and flutter,
midday twilight and encircling sunset
the only reminders.
Time stops -- no -- time disappears as Sun.
Time doesn't exist.
Time is still -
until the diamond explodes with delightful disappointment
and propulsion to blinding so-called reality.
The infinite two minutes and twenty two seconds again finite.
Energetic bundle still taut but vibrating with higher frequency.
Hastening healing,
Expediting enlightenment,
Intensifying intuition,
Accelerating awareness,
Enhancing empathy,
Flying fearlessly forward.
Betrayal
I thought I understood betrayal;
deceit;
hypocrisy;
abandonment;
withdrawal;
fraud;
let-down.
Then I grew up.
Life betrayed me that day.
Life stopped going the way I always imagined it would. It's life's fault I feel this way, not mine.
Life took away my love.
Life took away my home.
Life took away my security.
Life took away my clarity.
Life took away my god.
How can I possibly trust again?
Men deceive,
business is fraudulent,
home abandons,
friends let down,
meds withdraw,
and religion is a hypocrite.
Life betrayed me.
How dare Life not Live up to my grandiose, pies-in-the-sky, rainbows-and-unicorns expectations? Pies make a mess when they fall from so high in the sky.
Betrayal has left me bitter and begging for a breath of blissfulness in which my brain can bathe.
I did this to myself. Does that mean I can fix it?
"Drowning" by Mateus Lucena
Unless
Things you should not, I said NOT, say to someone with an anxiety or major depressive disorder:
- Man up.
- Grow a pair.
- It's in your head.
- You just need more sun.
- You're a hypochondriac.
- Your emotions are so unpredictable. (No kidding - try being the one experiencing them.)
- You're always sick.
- Buck up.
- Drama queen.
- You're being a baby.
Unless you've experienced depression or anxiety so bad you've considered killing yourself;
Unless you've gone through the pain of getting on an antidepressant (or 5);
Unless you've experienced the numbness that feels like such a relief at first, but then turns into a yearning to feel again;
Unless you've tried to get off of an antidepressant and experienced true chemical dependence withdrawal;
Unless you've been unable to get out of bed for days because it hurts too much;
Unless your behavior has caused you to lose the people who were once closest to you;
Unless...
Then shut the fuck up and mind your own business.
How do you do this to me?
How do you do this to me?
How can I hate your hurtful heart,
But sigh for your smell on my sheets?
How can I loath your lousy lies,
But crave your counterfeit concurrence?
How can I despise your desperate devotion,
But pine for your perpetual and palpable presence?
How do you do this to me?
Since when did I hand you my reins?
This is my life to live,
Not yours to subliminally destroy.
Since when did my brain
Allow thoughts of you to drain
My will, my power to let go?
How do you do this to me?
Why do I do this to me?
Why do I let this good-for-nothin' guilt
Cloud my already cockeyed comprehension?
Why do I fantasize the future we were facing,
Instead of soul-searching and stabilizing my self?
Why do I desire a darling,
But have a forever fleeting focus?
Why do I do this to me?
Since when did I lose control of my reins?
This is my life to live,
Not yours to subliminally control.
Since when did my brain
Allow thoughts of you to drain
My will, my power to let go?
How do you do this to me?
How do I forget your love?
How do I leave behind my own?
I'll never forget our years together.
The memories have pierced my soul.
But, it's over.
I miss you and will always love you.
How do you do this to me?
Since when did I hand you my reins?
This is my life to live,
Not yours to subliminally control.
Since when did my brain
Allow thoughts of you to drain
My will, my power to let go?
How do you do this to me?
How do you do this to me?
How do you do this to me?
Goodbye.
Mirror Mirror
"Trust is like a mirror. You can fix it if it's broke, but you can still see the crack in that mother fucking reflection." - SMT
How do you repair a mirror smashed into 64 billion pieces?
I guess the answer is: carefully...and with gloves so you don't cut yourself.
I forgot the gloves in my haste.
Once the mirror smashed, my first reaction was to hurry and put it back together as to see clearly again as soon as possible. But I cut up my hands and bled all over the poorly reconfigured puzzle. I couldn't see any clearer.
Crap. Now I have to re-break it if there's any hope of seeing clearly.
*smash*crash*crunch*
I can't do this again. I quit.
Trust forever betrayed.
Forgiveness never in sight.
Forever bandaging the wounds.
Never healing.
Always hurting.
Always bleeding.
What a mess.
Don't Be So Hard
"Don't be so hard on yourself."
It's not attractive.
It's not productive.
Your darkest bruises are from your own mind.
Do the blotches and scars help you heal?
Do they help you forget?
How about forgive?
Move on?
Or do they help you remember to punish yourself every second of every day?
To look in the mirror with pure hatred and disgust?
To regret what you did?
What you said?
What you didn't do?
What you didn't say?
Do they help you remember what you lost?
Do they help you remember how much you fucked up?
Don't be so hard on yourself.
Do the track marks lead you to any happiness?
Or only to more sorrow and depression?
Did you ever think you might enjoy the pain and drama more than peace and calm? What an unpleasant, painful way to live.
Lighten up. Live a little. Step out of your comfort corner.
Don't be so hard on yourself.
Daemon of The Past
Photo by CodingNinja
Movies portray daemons in so many ways - some crawl, some swoop like ghosts, and some lurk faceless in the shadows. But the worst daemon of them all is The Past - unseen and non palpable.
The Past terrorizes the mind like the ghosts of asylum patients haunt the halls of their former home.
The Past is a liar. It fools you into believing a hologram. It's fake. It's a façade hiding your mind's eye from reality and The Truth.
The Past makes you angry and bitter. It makes you blame everyone...everything...except yourself.
The Past asserts you had no control. It was his fault. It was her fault. If only he didn't do that...if only she didn't say that...then things would be better for ME.
The Past is denial.
But at the same time, The Past is guilt and self-loathing. The Past is worthlessness and hopelessness. The Past digs a pit of shame and throws you in, spiraling toward the invisible bottom.
Photo by brownspoo
The Past enjoys being construed, twisted, and morphed into whatever causes you the most possible pain.
The Past then wants you to awaken its brother daemons in the people around you. Spread the pain and suffering!
The Past is a kidney stone of the mind. The pain is excruciating. It can even feel like you may die.
The Past makes you sadder than you ever thought possible. It makes your tear ducts shrivel. It makes your sleep scarce and strenuous.
Photo by F l S f a h .. ❥
The Past wants to break free and become reality. It will convince you its freedom will be your solace, when in fact, it is your demise.
The Past breaks free with death - your death. The escape from its torture lies in your own hands. You must die to alleviate the depression, pain, and tormenting anxiety The Past inflicts.
Of course this isn't The Truth. The Past destroys hope, butchers faith, and mocks The Truth.
But The Truth knows self eradication will only cause more pain - for your soul and those you leave behind.
Photo by lorrainemd
The Truth may not be pretty, but it's not a big phony like The Past.
The Truth is now.
The Truth is here.
The Truth doesn't dabble with The Past.
The Truth doesn't fiddle with The Future.
The Truth is grace.
The Truth is the escape.
The Truth is happiness.
The Truth is Love.
The Truth is health and healing.
You Find Out Who Your Friends Are
Some of you may find this sarcastic and rude, some of you may find this loving and sincere. You're all correct...it's everything, but I certainly have no intention to offend. Sure, there is a slight "airing of grievances" feel, but it's just a jumble of my thoughts.
You find out who your friends are when they visit you regularly,
When they support you at your job by SPENDING MONEY to see your work's latest play or attraction,
When they don't complain about the price of your work's shows or admission,
When they don't ask you if they can get in for free or for a discount,
When they know your job title,
When they know what your actual job duties are (If you spend the time explaining them, that is.),
When they know your major,
When they know your minor...s,
When they come to Europe with you,
When they do all they can to go to Europe with you but just plain can't go,
When they stab you in the back,
When they leave and never come back,
When they leave without saying goodbye,
When they tell you all the things you do that drive them absolutely insane but let you do them anyway because it doesn't really matter,
When they won't tell you what's bugging them and keep it all inside until they either fade away or blow up in your face,
When they say "I love you,"
When they say "I hate you,"
When they call you a fag,
When they call you a bitch (or betch),
When they like your boyfriend so much they can hang out together without you,
When they put on a gas mask for you,
When they make a fool of themselves in front of you,
When they let you vent about your frustrations with the LDS Church and just say "I know! I'm so sorry! It sucks!" rather than starting a fruitless debate,
When they accept a present from you,
When they fail to accept a present from you,
When they give you a present,
And when they ask you what you'd like for a present so you receive something you'd actually like to have.
Simple Pleasures
Newly painted street lines (especially on a newly surfaced street).
Freezing cold tap water in the dead of winter.
Slipping into a bed with fresh, clean linen just after a shower.
Staring at your favorite piece of art when no one understands why you love it so much.
Staying up too late reading a textbook that's just too good to put down.
Chips and salsa.
Gay cinema.
Marilyn Monroe.
World.
Depression, Anxiety, Love...and Other Drugs
*tap*tap*tap*
I can't write.
Why?
Well, the title pretty much explains it all. It's also not vague in any way.
Okay, maybe it's a little vague considering I kind of copied a movie title a little tiny bit.
I have depression and anxiety. Both are likely inherited (thanks, parents). I have always been a rather anxious person. I figure a large portion of my anxiety was actually learned and conditioned considering I grew up "different" and Mormon. To say the least, that calls for a lot of nervous times.
Of course I have also been depressed at times...even suicidal. But this time it's different.
Miserable Emptiness
There's no foundation to the sadness. I feel an emptiness I believe could never be reconciled. A void that could absolutely never be filled. I don't want to do anything. I don't want to move. I don't want to talk. I don't want to wake up. I don't want to sleep. If I sleep, I have to eventually wake up and...and...do something. I don't want to see my friends. I don't want to see my boyfriend. I don't want to see my family. It makes me sick.
I want to quit school. I want to quit my job...s. I want to quit. I don't necessarily want to die, but I want to hurt myself so I can prove to you all how sick I am. So I can prove to you how much I need to quit school...to quit my jobs...s.
I want to run away. Running away will fix everything. It will fix nothing.
I'm in love. It's weird to be in love for the first time and also be extremely depressed. And then to be taking an antidepressant that increases your anxiety five-fold. I'm in love. Why now? What bizarre timing.
I want to run away...with him. That will fix everything. It will fix nothing.
I can't write.
I'm afraid to write.
I'm afraid to tell you what is going on with me.
I'm again afraid of being judged and having even more stereotypes hurled at me.
I want to run away. I'll run until the pills, pills, and more pills kick in and fix everything. They'll fix nothing.
They won't fix me.
They won't fix my family.
They won't fix the business.
They won't fix my boyfriend.
They won't fix my relationship with him either.
I guess I have to participate too.
I want to run away. I want to hide until I have the energy to help the pills.
They're so demanding of me.
Burdened Bench
Hobos sleep
Kids climb
Women breastfeed
Lovers cuddle
Parents watch
Cats catnap
Dogs are tethered
Birds drop
Gossip whispers
Newspaper reads
Women womanized
Men hypermasculinized
Passers-by people-watched
Hair mocked
Clothing scoffed
Jealousy onlooks
Coworkers conspire
Strangers confide
Always vacant
Until needed
What a burden for slabs of wood and cast metal to uphold.
Inspired by:
Garry Winogrand
World's Fair
New York, 1964
This I Know
I would give my life if it would save even one person from having to go through the mental misery, emotional agony, and spiritual hell I went through to get where I am today.
This I know:
God exists.
I am one of His children.
He loves me.
He wants me to be happy.
He will help me find happiness here in this life and in the next.
I can have a personal relationship with Him.
He will answer me.
God knows I'm gay.
My spirit was "gay" before I was born into this life.
I will be "gay" in the afterlife.
It's okay.
I can have an eternal family with another man.
I can have spirit children with another man.
The Church's current stance on gays is simply incorrect.
One day more will be revealed.
What do you do?
What do you do when the ones who love you don't love you any more?
What do you do when you don't feel safe in your own "home"?
What do you do when hypocrisy is the head of your household?
What do you do when fear and dread won't let you sleep?
What do you do when you hear hatred bang on your bedroom door?
What do you do when you bruise easily?
What do you do when you're freezing?
What do you do when you're already hurting?
What do you do when you can't leave?
What do you do when your pillow can't absorb any more tears?
What do you do when you want to do nothing at all?
What do you do when hate everything you're doing?
What do you do when you don't even want to listen to your favorite music?
What do you do when your legs bounce like Thumper's do?
What do you do when your homework reads like a foreign language?
What do you do when you're numb?
What do you do when you're bouncing off the walls?
What do you do when you want to bury yourself in a hole?
What do you do when you want to fall asleep and not wake up until it's better?
What do you do when it feels like your world is falling apart, only the world hasn't even noticed a crack?
I don't know what to do.
Leaves
I want to leave this place.
I want to be somewhere lacking majority;
everyone is minority;
no privilege;
and that's what makes it perfect.
I want to leave this place.
I want to live somewhere I "belong";
extra-long stares and gawks unthinkable;
no double-takes;
and my normal is (your) normal too.
I want to leave this place.
I want to settle somewhere safe;
drama and heartache more bearable;
no knives in back;
and knowing someone has mine.
I want to leave this place.
I want to reside somewhere rich in kahones;
label dodging unnecessary;
no fear of being found out;
and we all have the balls to be.
I want to leave this place.
I want to exist somewhere that gives a damn;
bullying and suicide not taken lightly;
no 'jokes or 'phobes;
and hateful misunderstanding has no clout.
I want to leave this place.
I want to stay somewhere gray;
black and white absurd;
no "my way" nor "highway";
and being is not "just a phase."
I want to leave this place.
I want to dwell somewhere dreamlike;
this destination nonexistent;
nowhere is this blissful;
and what makes me think leaving will help?
The Year of Immunotherapy?
Please let this year be better. I'm so tired. I haven't felt well since May of 2008 and I'm tired of trying. But apparently not tired enough to quit.
Westminster, Colorado.
A "cold"
Turns into a "sinus infection."
Bactrim, Ceftin, Azithromycin, Augmenton.
Hives.
Epic hives.
Again
And again.
Turns out it was mono.
Quite the misdiagnosis
Duh.
School starts in 4 days.
Semester from hell.
ER visit.
Finally confronting my heart arrhythmia.
Miracle semester.
Not feeling better;
In fact, feeling worse.
Quit my job of 2.5 years.
Goodbye to the best coworkers on earth.
Time to focus on health and school.
Turns out I'm gluten intolerant.
Diet changes.
Diet changes.
Diet changes.
Diet changes.
Diet changes.
Feeling slightly better.
Disneyland.
Feeling quite a bit better.
Lagoon.
Cabin.
Something's not right.
School starts.
Worst pain ever.
ER visit.
Kidney stone.
Nausea, pain, lortab, and flomax.
And lortab...did I mention the lortab?
School...
Work...
W...
Feels like mono again
Only it isn't.
What a relief!
Wait, then what is it?
I'm allergic to this valley.
Is immunotherapy my next solution?
Passed Past
Leave me alone!
I'm sick of you!
All you do is nag and complain!
You're so damn needy!
You demand excessive amounts of my attention.
And the worst part? I give it to you.
Why do I keep doing this?
I accept the fact you were part of my life...but we broke up!
Can't we just move on and be cordial?
I keep lying for you...
I keep withholding for you...
I keep hiding for you...
I keep failing for you...
I keep (attempting) to impress for you...
I keep defending you...
I keep missing out...all so you won't hurt me!
Why does my crying excite you?
Some cowardly part of me is still terrified of you and you know it.
And some sick part of me gets off on the fear, misery, and torture you inflict.
Over and over and over again!
I can't help but re-over-analyze you in my head, to my friends, to my family, in my writing, in my talking, in my crying, and in my screaming.
I hate how I let you control me!
No matter how much I think I've put you behind me and officially passed you by... No matter how many times I convince myself I've moved on... No matter what I do, you always creep back into my life and wreak havoc.
Does this mean I'm not where I thought? What am I missing? Where am I in this continuum? What do I need to do to keep you where you belong so you'll stop ruining my Now?
Have I not fully confronted you?
Have I not faced you head on like I thought I have...over and over and over again...?
Which one of us has the unresolved business?
...and what on earth will resolve it?!
I don't want to talk about you any more. I don't want to think about you any more. I deserve to think of happier things. I would much rather waste my time on anything else but you.
I went through your colic-like torment to get where I am Now. And you won't let me forget it. Do you need a thank-you letter or a reward? Do you want some sort of compensation? Do you feel entitled to tortuously remind me how you made me who I am? Who is the victim here, anyway? Just because you're miserable doesn't mean I have to be miserable with you!
I'm sick of your pity party.
Get over yourself.
Just die.
I deserve better than you.
Let me get on with my life; I can't keep waiting to live.
Now where was I...?
All this tiredness is making me sleepy.
I'm tired of being treated differently.
I'm so over being an exception.
I'm sick of everything I say and do being new, different, and "outside the box."
I'm spent making statements - political, social, religious...
I'm done being "special." *gag*
I'm tired of dodging possibly intellectual conversations.
I'm annoyed by the clumsy small talk.
I've had it with being the elephant in the room.
I'm worn out by my constantly burning ears.
I'm exhausted from hesitating.
I'm tired of being "abnormal."
I've had it up to here being called "homosexual."
I'm burnt out calling him "just a friend."
I'm disgusted with being your "gay friend."
I'm fed up with being the resident "gay couple."
I'm tired of being marginalized.
I'm tired of being classified.
I'm tired of being compared - to gays, straights, and everyone in between...
I'm tired of being discriminated.
I'm tired of being stereotyped.
I'm tired of being an agenda.
I'm Jason.
The Damage Is Done
You're a fraud
You're a liar
You're a hypocrite
You're despicable
You're disgusting
You're not the role model you think you are
You're not credible
You're ruining people's lives
You're ruining your own...
I can't believe how much I respected you
I can't believe now much I wanted to be you
I can't believe I wasted so much life on you
I can't believe I expended so many brain cells to understand you
...to identify with you
...to commiserate with you
Yet now I despise and resent you
You made me miserable...suicidal
Your latest actions are disgusting
What are you trying to prove?
You can't change it and you know it
Why won't you just shut up and go away now?
You've done enough damage
Why free-verse poetry?
You may have asked yourself, "Why does Jason write so much in a free-verse poetic style?" The answer is the word "free." I write full-fledged papers and essays for school...not for fun and definitely not for blogs...not when I'm free to write whatever I want, how I want it.
It's nice to not be forced to fully explain my thoughts in ways coherent to people other than me. Free-verse leaves at least some of the interpretation up to the reader. It leaves a pinch of mystery. It's a conversation starter. "So what did you mean when you said..."
So again, "Why does Jason write so much in a free-verse poetic style?" Why not rhyming poetry? Or just rambling paragraphs? I don't really know. Well, I actually borderline hate rhyming, so I know the answer to that one, but the rambling paragraphs? I think the formatting and structure of a poem can say as much as the poem's words. Rambling paragraphs are just that - rambling paragraphs with no structure, no meaning in the layout, no attention to detail, no suggestions for how the piece ought to be read. Solution: free-verse poetry. Maybe I should have written this more like a poem...
The end.
What to do...what to do?
I have desires burning deep inside my soul.
They burn so hot and so real...
My flesh tingles and flushes,
My eyes swell and drip,
My vocal cords seize and scream.
Physics, psychology, math, poly sci, astronomy, photography...
Have I chosen the right thing?
I want to make a difference.
I want to speak out.
I want to speak up.
But I'm terrified to do more than I already am.
What to do...what to do?
Do I want to be an "activist?"
What is an activist?
Am I already one?
Can a physics major be a gay activist?
A gay Mormon activist?
A gay Mormon physics major activist?
Is that allowed?
Is it dangerous?
Is it treacherous to pursue?
Which side is more threatening anyway?
Of whom should I be more wary?
Both?
Neither?
Have I already ruffled everyone's feathers?
Fence-sitting sounds so simple...
But it's not that easy.
I still have fears.
I still hesitate before saying I'm gay.
I even hesitate before saying I'm Mormon.
I have friends who don't understand,
But who let me do my own thing;
No questions asked.
Why don't they ask questions?
With which part do they not agree?
It's exhausting to continually tailor my words
According to my company...
Do you know me?
Do you really know me?
Who do you think I am?
Honestly.
I'm sorry, but,
"You don’t know me,
You don’t know me at all.
You don’t know me,
You don’t know me AT ALL."
I feel stuck.
Out of place.
Always wanting more gay friends...
More straight friends...
More Mormon friends...
More gay Mormon friends...
Who feel and think the way I do,
Truly,
Not because it's the "right answer"
Or they can't make up their mind...
Who doesn't "really just want to watch each other sleep...
...Sleep sleep sleep."
More friends to occupy and distract my thoughts
From wandering and wondering what I wonder...
What to do...what to do?
I want to be in love.
I want to be head-over-heels.
I want to be wooed.
I want to want to woo.
I want a hand to hold.
I want to care and not care.
When will I meet him?
Have I already met him?
Will I find him at school?
Work?
Through a friend?
Would acting on my activism help me find my partner in crime?
I want to have the courage...
I want to have the strength...
I want to have the drive...
I want to have the reason...
I want to have the security...
I want to have the voice...
I want to have the sense...
I want to have the stamina...
I want to have the energy...
I want to have the support...
I want to have the enthusiasm...
I want to have the confidence...
to
end the hate.
end the ignorance.
end the abuse.
end the disgust.
end the self-loathing.
end the lies.
end the suicides.
end the helplessness.
end the hopelessness.
end the excuses.
end the doubt.
end the fear.
What to do...what to do?
Fearlessly be myself.