Unplug

Posted on August 7, 2017 by chrooth

The great return to civilization. _DSC6433-Pano.jpgI return a bit different; a bit stronger, a bit lighter, a bit wiser, and a bit stronger. I come back to a world a bit darker, a bit louder, everyone a bit more aloof than I remember, but I suspect I may not have been paying attention.  Caught up in the fray of the world like everyone else; caught up in those imposed needs to be cool, to be rich, to be handsome, to be funny, to be a man, yet in everyone, I see them trying so hard and so fast that they’ve lost focus and forgotten the meaning of it all.  I see city lights glaring, illuminating wayward paths through this monument to human confusion. I see girls who’ve buried themselves in colored dusts and waxes because they’ve forgotten what it means to be beautiful. I see giant boys and their tattoo’d testimony of strength enough to move a mountain, but not enough not to cry themselves to sleep.  I see touch-screen zombies and headphone hermits chasing peace in the wrong direction.  In a world of smoke screen chaos they chase you into hiding in a corner where they’re waiting with another lie to sell you, and it works as much as you’re convinced that you’re immune.  But we’re not.  None of us are.  I fell for it.  I’ve seen people much stronger than me collapse beneath it’s crushing influence.  The only strength I claim is to know it when I see it, and when I see it in me, to find a place that it can’t touch me for a while.  When I return I know it better; I know ME better; I love me better, a bit different, a bit stronger, a bit lighter, a bit wiser and a bit stronger.

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About chrooth

No this isn't some sort of midlife crisis thing. I'm just adapting. Like anyone else on here, or who does this, I believe I am writer. Unlike most others, I believe I am a writer because I have always written. Long story short, I was a really weird kid and sometimes it just felt like the only place I could turn for some solace and empathy was an empty page. I've always been a melodramatic writer and I've been really happy for a long time so I haven't felt the need to write but when I do... I have to. I basically live on the road, so my journal is hardly ever within reach, and when it is I convince myself that I'm too busy to make any time for it. So here I am, embracing the future, having acquired the journal that will follow me almost anywhere. I'm having one of those, "WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THIS BEFORE!?" moments, and GOD after so long I can't tell you how good it feels to just let my mind spill through the tips of my fingers again. I suppose this would be an appropriate time to qualify both my ability and my intentions. I am not a good writer. I am told I have a strong tendency towards run-ons, I over punctuate, and I curse like a sailor. I can't spell for crap and especially while typing, I have a tendency to just leave words out. As I mentioned earlier this "blog" is meant as a replacement for my long treasured journal, which tends to imply a need for privacy. However, if you were to ever read my journal, you would eventually come across an entry musing over the purpose of a journal, wondering why they are written and kept in secret. I have no secrets. I had far too many secrets for far too long and I assure you, I have no more energy for them. Additionally, I can not properly conjure any feeling of being heard by manufacturing an imaginary personality that lives in a book and understands my words. So I write, and have always written, to you. Thanks for reading it!
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