My sins

"You are better off without me."  It is a commonly heard phrase in my existence.  I hear it at least once in every relationship I am in and it often precedes the inevitable break up that will follow.  I don't know if those people are really saying what they mean though.  Instead, their words obfuscate the true meaning of what they are trying to say.  What they are saying is that they are tired of me and my bullshit bringing them down to where ever it is that I find myself on that day.  

Sometimes I hear it more than once per relationship as a person has convinced themselves that there might be something worthwhile to stay around for.  It might be perhaps because I am different compared to anyone that they have been with.  I think differently, speak differently, have a different take on this life.  Perhaps it is my sense of humor that is so twisted, the determination I have to achieve my goals or some obscure talent that I display that might make them stay just a little longer.  It doesn't matter though because the end result is the same.  I am told I a great guy but... there is always a but.  They shift the blame to themselves and then to some situation going on in their lives and so on.  Each speech is just a small variation on the previous one I have heard.  What I wouldn't give for some originality in those speeches.  If it were so, I wonder if I would feel any different right now.  I wonder if I would have stopped riding the spiral down.  I can't see why I would.  I am just a predictable as those speeches.  Still, it would be nice for a change.  

In the same sense, I wish that I didn't turn things around on myself but that is what I do.  It is my choice I guess.  In these instances I continue to wonder where I go wrong, what it is that makes love so hard to attain.  Am so different?  Am I so repulsive?  What would it take?  The only thing in this life that I can truly change is myself.  There is no way I can force other people to do anything.  They always have a choice just like me.  I chose love, they chose not.  If I knew how, I could shut the pain out that I feel.  

Pain maybe one of the only ways though that we know we are alive.  It is a measure, a way to tell that we exist.  If life could be beautiful without pain, I would have it so.  Yet, without pain we would not be able to appreciate those wonderful moments.  That being said, I never want to see beauty again.  I never want to see her again.  I don't want to see any of them again.  The memories don't seem worth all the hurt that they bring to the surface.  I am on the verge of tears every morning that I wake, some dream or another having reminded me of what was and what I thought I had.  It wasn't real though, it isn't real anymore.  All chemicals eventually wear off and loose their potency.  That is the love that I can get, the only love I can get.  It is just a chemical that wears off as my charm wears thin, as my personality becomes unbearable and one or two depressions later, I am unbearable.  

It is in moments like these when depression is paramount that I start to wonder and ask myself what I believe.  There are moments of inward reflection that make me wonder if I should go back to church.  There was a time in my life when church was a very important thing.  It was more than a ritual, it was a big part of my life.  I wasn't active like a great many of people whom I have met over the years.  I didn't participate in the choir or any of the post mass activities, thought I was an Alter-boy for a mass or two.  When did I loose that feeling?  What was that feeling that I had?  What purpose did it serve?  Did it give me faith or just fill a void?  I don't know.  I don't know if I am that same person who can put his faith in such ideas.  I know in what I believe and religion doesn't seem to fit in there.  

It is not for lack of trying, I went to church on Easter, and even a couple of times during the season of Lent.  I did so to see what I would feel and I felt absolutely nothing.  I used to ride such a high horse of morality, where in I knew what was right and wrong.  I don't know if I am so certain I was right, and I am convinced that in many cases I was wrong.  Still I look back and I look forward.  The past is not something I can live again and why would I want to?  That pain will never change.  That beauty will not be more beautiful.  Each moment would precede the other just as they had.  The future is uncertain and as it stands I don't know what I will make of it.  Still I can not help but look.  I look there, though I live now and as I live right now, I look inward at my sins.  I look at them in the face.  All seven are there.  All seven bring me to my knees, the razor to wrist, the bullet to brain and so on.

Lust, it is more or less the fun sin in my eyes.  It is the one that I would say I enjoy the most. I should not.  Lust, and my weakness for such pleasures is the reason that I find myself alone.  She simply wanted someone who was faithful, I could not help but look around at the menu.  Keep in mind I did not give into the desire simply looked.  It was enough though.  It was enough to break a sense of trust that was once there.  Some say that it is the way of nature and in the genes.  I know so many people who have chose to live above those debased needs and risen above.  It is a choice to give in.  It is a choice to even acknowledge such things.  Even more so than any else though, it is a choice to act upon such.  And so with such, when that which you had is gone, that which was great has left you are left with it to lust after.  You realize how great she was and you want her more than ever.  Maybe it is the most elaborate of deceptions or maybe it is more real now because you know the pain that such a loss has caused.

Yet lust is not the only sin I am guilty of.  No, I have all seven.  Gluttony, it is that which I fight so hard against.  For the longest time it was the vessel of comfort and the crusher of my self-worth.  It still serves as such though the ice cream and cookies have given away to brown bottles and demon rums.  As pain worsens, I suck upon the bottle to make it go away.  The alcohol seems at times be the only thing that numbs it all and pushes it back and away.  Then after all of that there is blackness and I remember nothing.  It is a peaceful sleep.  It is the one without dreams that dredge up thoughts.  It is the sleep that doesn't wake me up in tears.  To wake from it in and of itself is painful.  There is comfort in the darkness of it all.  There is comfort in the void, the place where there is no feeling, the place where there is nothing.  

Greed, I ask of anyone who bothered this far, who isn't?  Still, greed is a vice of mine.  I work and work and for what seems to be nothing as I spend money constantly on material things.  It is sadly how I show my affection and in someways it is how I know I am loved, when I am given things.  Is that strange?  I think so. I soothe pain at times by buying things.  I have spent a great deal of money recently on crap that I don't need in hopes that it will take from me this heavy heart.  Even when I am not hurting, I spend money on things that I am not sure are that worth while.  Living week to week is not what I want to do with my life but as I continue to give in, it seems as though it will be all I shall do.  All the money in the world can not buy one ounce of happiness and yet it doesn't keep me from trying.  

Sloth is not something that many of my friends would accuse me of but I have it in spades nonetheless.  The great sin of apathy, laziness and the like describes me fairly well in a great many situations.  I have this fairly decent talent with drawing and art and I am doing nothing with it.  There are offers on the table and I either turn them down or I just never finish them.  I have tons of art projects I would like to do but I get nothing done.  Nothing.  Isn't that sad to waste such a gift?  Fuck, I have a degree in art for  God's sake.  I have a degree in Biochemistry too.  What was the point of all that if I am going to do nothing with it all.  All that knowledge is just locked away in the back of my head doing nothing.  All those art pieces, comic book panels, cartoons, paintings are all just locked away back their in the attic of my mind.  Makes me want to blow open my skull cap and let it all out, that is if I weren't so lazy.  That isn't the only instances of sloth however, there are many times and many things I could have done to save what was had and to avoid the pain that was to come.  I was to stuck in a routine and too apathetic to change anything.  I went from day to day to lazy to initiate some sort of evolution in who I was or what I did.  I guess that is why I look within to see what went wrong.  It is because I could have done something then but didn't, now I need to know be left with a hollow what if.

So linked to my slot is my pride.  At one point I had such an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment over all those things I had done.  I still do in many instances as I look down my nose at those who have not 'come as far as I have.'  I think I am so superior in my thought process, my ability to think to reason and so on.  I have all this great adoration for myself and my skills, my gifts and my talents.  Where has it gotten me?  I think so much that I drive myself crazy half the time wondering what I should do with the realization that I am completely in charge of every aspect of my life.  I think constantly of how the choices I make will thusly open new choices and bring about consequences and woes.  What good are all this education that would seem to put me above those who haven't taken the opportunity?  I am no more happy and as I stated I am not even using it. What is the point of being able to draw comics like a mad man if I don't bother to actually draw them?  What is the point of all this pride if all it does is distance me farther and farther from happiness?  What is the point of never giving in when you alienate everyone?

All of this, all of it makes me so angry.  There is a point I reach in my thoughts and with this pain that I find nothing but red in my vision.  Someone said once that I have a terrible temper.  I think they are probably right.  If in the right mood with all these thoughts floating through my brain like a sewage polluting the water, I can fly off the handle quite quickly and easily.  As if my heart becomes a fist, I seem to bottle it up waiting for the right moment to swing.  Which of those women whom I have loved can forget my Wrath?  Which?  None I think.  I think I have scarred the all in some way or another.  Only now do I come to regret how I had treated them when it was all said and done.  Still, I find myself on the verge again.  Each word and breath, every internet message, post, and word is a reflex meant to pass off pain in some vein attempt to get rid of my own.  It doesn't work.  It just makes me feel more like shit.  Sometimes it works and they hurt but somehow they get over it faster than me.  My venom is not so potent and for a scorpio I spend more time poisoning myself more than anything.  I am wrath and I want to do nothing more than destroy myself.  

Perhaps the sin that I am most acquainted with and which burns me the most is my envy.  There are so many people I envy for one reason or another.  I envy all those people I see who are seemingly happy.  Part of me just hopes that they are putting up a good facade and wants them to be as miserable as me so that I won't feel so alone.  Even in a room full of friends, even if I get a million words of sympathy and understanding, I still feel alone.  The things I see others with, material possessions, satisfaction in their work, success and so on.  Perhaps the worst situation I can think of came about today.  I talked to a the Bean.  You don't know the Bean, none of you who read this will.  We are close, as close as anyone can be from one stand point.  He told me some news that gave me such joy it was overwhelming, and such envy that it made me sick.  He told me that he is going to bring a bundle of joy into this world.  He is so happy and in such a great place right now.  I envied him so much in that moment that it saturated my being.  It made me write this stupid blog to make sense of it all.  I want his simple life.  I want to not care.  I want my heart in one piece again.  I envy those who have those things and I hate myself for not being more like them.

Please forgive me.  I die a little every day.  I surrender because I know I have been a pretender.  I suffer to survive.  You can have all this guilt and misery I wear so well.  I devise my own demise.  I am going to be looking at life through a telescope, the earth down there and so far away.  I know that there will be no woman to put flowers on my grave.  

Thank you.  Fuck you.
Lockwood