2006-07-17 - 4:19 p.m.
Chew Some Valerian Root And Get More Excercise
Some time ago, I read an analogy about batteries in a blog. The girl's therapist pretty much said that her batteries were running low, or even in the negative.
(I am not sure she would want to be linked or exerted, so I am keeping that part private, out of courtesy. If I ask her and she says it is fine I will add it later.)
And I realized that this analogy finally explained what was wrong with me.
That thing that I have been thinking of as Exhaustential Angst, or just getting old was finally explained.
All I knew was that I was tired all the time.
It had nothing to do with getting enough sleep, blood sugar or vitamins. It ran deeper than that.
"Chew some valerian root and get more excercise."
Sometimes I could count off the physical needs that were met, on my fingers. Go down the wellness list. Everything seemed fine. I could reason with myself that I had all I needed, that I was fine. This was some sort of psychosomatic tiredness.
And it is, but in a very real way.
Just because something is in your head, does not mean it is not real, or that it is nothing.
My batteries are almost burned out. Running themselves into the ground as they disappear and dissolve themselves to death. A slow acid suicide. Your hair falls out, your spirit fades then you die.
Still, I do my quiet death thing in the corner.
Most of the time I do not even want to pay attention to myself anymore.
Even knowing what is wrong, I do not know what to do about it. I am parasitic, hungry and spiritually anorexic. I think that is the part of me that scares people away. I burrow into their souls, and become fat, safe and warm. In their glow, I am finally ok and my battery heart glows. I radiate something that ensures my survival for a while. Something that warms this person in a way they have never been before. There's just something about me. Sometimes. Then one day, they panic and start to run. And they never stop running until they are gone. Suddenly without warning, they reject me.
So now I have been trying to learn to live without that one insider. It only seems successful part of the time.
There is that instinctual hunger that I can disguise as sexual cravings. Physical needs for closeness hardwired into the deepest part of my animal brain.
Most of the time I can pride myself as some sort of autonomous being. Sometimes I stand back in wonder as I marvel myself just doing my own thing. Living my own little life. My own planets move around my own sun. I am an entire universe contained neatly inside myself, and I am amazing. Underated and amazing. I am this strange little creature, with its own habits and ways. Its own funny little life rythyms keeping it alive.
But that is only one side of my one sided existence.
While I feel like I have to protect my private ecosystem from being contaminated and poisoned by invasive species, I myself AM an invasive species. I know the ways of parasites, being one myself. A parasite that will take up residence in itself and feed on its own insides when no one else is around to feed and care for it.
I am eating myself alive.
I am eating my own battery heart. Drinking its acid and wondering why I burn all the time. Wondering why this old heart just can not seem to beat properly anymore.
I am eating it.
Killing it.
Dissolving it.
Hating it.
And it is all I have to sustain myself.
Parasites have an insatiable hunger, they keep eating and eating, destroying the host that unknowingly loves and supports them. They eat the one thing they need the most, and after that is gone, they move on or die.
I never was that good at moving on.
And I feel myself dying in my own serrated jaws.
I sewed myself into a cocoon, and I eat my own wings for the fun of it. Because I can. Because there is nothing else to eat. I can open and close the silk cabinets all day, and there is never anything inside. So I eat myself. And somehow the sickly under developed protein keeps growing back. So I cannibalize myself again and again. That way I will never have to leave home again.
I will never need another host, when I have my own neurosis to snack on. Even though I only feel full about half the time.
And just like with my insecurity, I realized that if I keep going on this way, I will end up dead. Instinctually, I just know.
There has to be some non destructive way to recharge my batteries. Something nutritous, that fills my stomach and warms my soul. True fufillment that will not leave me hungry and alone.
Something that lasts longer than infatuation, and is as powerful as a true love infatuated forever.
Something powerful and infinite that I can always draw on, that will always be there.
Usually when people find this, they become religious fanatics. That is not what I want to become. I want to do this my own way.
I just want to be able to take care of myself. I want fufillment. Some sense of self that is not a pathetic, parasitic victim. I need to be filled up. There is so much that I am not getting. I am so deficient.
I think this all comes back to self love.
You can not glean all you need from other people. They always dry up and go away, no matter how much you give in turn. No matter how undyingly loyal and symbiotic you are. They always dry up and go away.
You have produce your own fuel to burn.
No one knows the exact optimal blend but you.
Your own soul is not a fat reserve to tap into. An eternal pilot light. That pilot light needs something to burn to stay lit. Only you can keep it lit.
And that is my biggest problem, I do not know how to produce my own fuel. And I become a parasite to myself and anyone, and anything else I can sink my catepillar tapeworm teeth into.
That explains my latching behavior.
Not leaching. Latching.
I am a working class catepillar tapeworm, a symbiotic leach that feeds itself and feeds you at the same time.
But as all parasites, I need.
Because there are things that I can not produce by myself. The basic fundamental things that most humans can.
I almost do not believe that I AM rechargable.
It has to be another insecure lie. But I really am lost. Where do I even start?
The world is reflected back to me through shit colored lenses, and ultra violet burned eyes.
It only depletes me more.
Then I deplete myself.
And the life cycle goes on and on.
It's Only After You've Lost Everything... - 2008-03-12
Jack Is Afraid Of Losing Everything - 2008-03-10
Jack Does Not Know What He Is Living For - 2008-03-07
Jack's Festering Apathy - 2008-03-07
