Posts Tagged ‘sad

11
Apr
18

Like a Sad Puppy Looking Out the Window

***

No.  You’re not going to find any sad but cute puppy pictures here.  Go clog your storage drives elsewhere.

I’m just expressing how I feel at the moment…at this stage in my life.  And, just to let you know, I’m going to get a bit long-winded; so get comfy and prepare yourself for some heavy paragraphs if you care to read.  But, if you want a more intimate look at the real me, this is about as close as you get without making the effort to reach out and connect via the pathways I provide.  I may repeat a few things from previous posts.

I feel like time is slipping away while I struggle to stand and get moving.  I hear about neighbors I don’t socialize with regularly, finding out their kids have already married and bought houses when it seems like only a few years ago they were kids playing in the backyard.  Have I actually reached THAT age?  Am I already the gray-haired elder who talks about the little ones being taller than I remember?

I’m not particularly physically handicapped.  But, I feel emotionally and mentally challenged…crippled.  I feel starved and deprived of good energies that I’d assume propel other people into action.

If someone says I just lack motivation, what does that mean?  I should be whipped like a slave?  I should throw myself in front of a bus or hit my head against a wall til I get the picture?  I just need to take more risks, more chances?  I’m not charitable enough?  I’m not “hungry” enough?  Exactly what direction should I move in to be doing this life right?  [No.  Don’t answer that one.  There are way too many people doling out answers they think are right, already.]

It’s sad to say, too, but I look forward to and sometimes rely upon emails to communicate.  I used to turn to the landline telephone.  But, reaching people isn’t always as easy, anymore, now that there are “options” and more things to distract people (rather than connect them).  I don’t mind leaving a message if I know I’ll get a response.  But, I don’t want to be the guy calling at “a bad time” and feeling like I am expecting the person to be my therapist while they are wondering when I’ll stop gabbing because they have “more important” things to do (that I could/should be doing myself).  Often enough, talking on the phone makes me feel worse, later, than I do composing a letter or email (which, for me, often turns out as long or longer than some letters I used to write).

So, when I finally do get an email or offer to email, I perk my head up a little and might even pant before responding as soon as possible.  Sometimes, I go out of my way, give it more time than most would, really try to make it into something special, something personal and considerate.  Over the years, I’ve realized that usually smells of desperation and is not–as often as I’d like–appreciated.

I try to be patient with others, particularly when they say they are sorry they cannot respond sooner/more often.  I say, “Oh, that’s okay.  You’re busy.  Take your time.”  And, then what happens?  I don’t hear from these people for weeks, months…  And, well, if it goes past a year, I pretty much assume our connection is dead.   [One sad, lonely dog, looking too hard for attention over here.]

“Back in the day,” (heh) you might write to a pen pal and wait a year for a response.  But, you were not considering that pen pal anything more than a seasonal visitor like the Easter Bunny or Kris Kringle.  You didn’t expect much from a pen pal and were grateful, hopefully, when they felt thoughtful enough to send a treat or souvenir.

I don’t look for pen pals at this stage of my life.  If my “circle” was that fulfilling but too local to satisfy my explorative interests, I might look for a stranger overseas to tell me tales.  But, these days, you don’t need a pen pal for that.  You can find people like that online!…in places like this one!  And, if they are friendly enough, you can exchange dialogue!  Isn’t that nice?  [Not that there’s much dialogue going around from what I can see.  More often, I see “award” notices, strangely worded/ignored comments from faceless strangers, brief words of vague sympathy and plenty of “snapshot” responses (the LIKES and the FOLLOWS) which are void of warmth.]

My timing and my low level of comfort with mingling are also terrible.  It seems I am always inside when others are taking walks outside.  [Again, the sad puppy looking out the windows.]  And, even if I cross paths with someone while walking, I’m in no way comfortable striking up a conversation.

For one, I don’t want to come off like an intrusion or misunderstood threat.  I don’t want to take away from the exercise or interaction someone else may be having with their exercise group/companion(s) (while I am almost always alone).  If they only have so much time to exercise, why try to or expect them to stop and gab as long as I may?

Secondly, or rather, additionally in regards to general discomfort, I am not comfortable talking on a walk or in public for more than a minute or two because I know my skin is thin and that I will break the dam wide open if given a chance.  And, the last thing I want is to get loud or breakdown among passersby who are likely to turn their heads and very quickly add to my discomfort.  What’s wrong with him?  Do you really want to know?  [Not to mention all the concerns I’d have of being rejected or “judged” for expressing or hearing something that disturbs one of us.]

What I really would like is to meet someone on a walk or online (or somewhere far more comfortable, wherever that is) and spark a conversation but take it somewhere more private so I don’t expose my “ills,” my concerns, my woes, my heavier thoughts to more people than necessary, especially to people you don’t know who are capable of doing things with your output that might shock and/or upset you.

And, I think that’s what I’ve been doing and striving to do since the internet began.  [I am pretty sure I’ve discussed my experiences with making contacts online elsewhere in my posts.  I just don’t feel like linking or repeating.  And, hey, if you really need to know, you just ask.]

I don’t or can’t expect someone I just met to welcome me into their home or car (and that doesn’t sound too smart to begin with, anyway). I really don’t know where to go to make this happen.  Nor do I have any bright idea or motivation to make myself more comfortable.  It’s one thing when you have a friend or “wingman” with you.  It’s a whole other to feel as fragile as I do and try to go it alone.  I mean, I am sure people do it and have done it.  And, if it comes down to it, I’ll figure out a way.  But, time is passing by so quickly, and I am still spinning my tires.

It sure would be nice if more people reached out to me, too.  Ya know?  I feel worse thinking the world is only going to get better if I make it better for myself (and others).  For all the stories I read of people making things happen, starting businesses and such, I don’t see people reaching out to me.  I keep getting the feeling like I’m different and have to do the leg work for others.  They might have tons of offers or be going through applications/resumes like some location seeking employees.  But, I remain the lone applicant just hoping to make a dent, to get my foot in a door.  [Stop looking like that, sad puppy man!]

Am I just living in some TV show or video game?  Is this just a 4D world in which I have the controller to make things happen?  Have I been so bewildered by the simulations that I forgot I am Player One?

Some would say I just need to get busy or be busier with my life.  When you’re busy, you don’t think as much (about these things).  And, while that may be true, do I want to busy myself with work that does nothing other than feed the careless, wasteful impulses of others (just because someone chooses to make a business of that, because someone convinced them this was profitable) or work for someone who sells a lie built around fear/doubt?

Oh, sure, I could get very busy.  I could not make any money and devote my life to charity because the world sure needs plenty of help.  But, I am terribly afraid of my social and general anxieties getting in the way, of ending up penniless and dependent upon some system I don’t necessarily understand or like.  It’s not like I would be good at balancing charity with doing everything I need to support myself.  I’d more likely give my all and wind up with nothing…or give so little that I feel like a cheapskate/miser.  It is all a bit too risky for me.  [Yet, charity sounds better than some alternatives.]

Sigh.  Woof!

 

 

 

 

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08
Nov
16

At the Relationship Crossroads

*****
I’ve come to the realization, more than once, that when I hesitate to move forward with a woman that sparks my interest, someone is lurking in my blind spot just waiting to beat me to the punch, spoil all my effort and claim the most costly of prizes (or cheapest, depending upon your perspective) as if it was always within reach. The long drive may be the promise of the sweetest things, but that doesn’t stop the fast and furious. And, at the same time, haste makes waste. Too many race to get the cup without checking under the hood and pacing themselves. This often results in devastating crashes and other crimes of the heart.

You may have seen it in a movie or one of the lewd cartoons polluting the airwaves these days. The “good” guy goes through the trouble of getting to know the woman, picking out just the right flowers and gift for a special day. Then, along comes Captain Jack Killjoy with one slick line and that irrestistable musk that drops Beauty faster than a Bela Legosi can raise an eyebrow, even though she tells you she’s not the type to fall for that crap. The “good” guy gets wind of what just happened, watches his flowers wilt and walks away with nothing (maybe a lesson learned if you’re that glass-half-full type). Some may crack their routine and join the rat race. The rest patch their tires and hit the same, old road one more time, looking for Lovers’ Lane, the best bed and breakfast in a serene neighborhood.

If you ever find yourself in a position where the one you want to spend your life with is heading far away for some time, don’t make any promises. It may be an epic romantic fantasy to receive love letters and reunite years later, but you could just as likely be the focus of a ghost story, waiting on some cliff for your love to return until you die of misery.

Maybe some day, I’ll be remembered as the genuine “road warrior.” Like the movies, that may be all that is remembered about me. All the sweat and tears I went through, avoiding car-wrecks and striving to stay in the right lane, may just be dust in the wind, along with all the rules and road signs the system tries to stick in our faces.

In the end, you go with your gut when you reach that same intersection that stopped me in my tracks. So, let me ask you. If you’re pursuing or riding with a love interest, are you coasting along Learnmore Road or racing down Efher Avenue?

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18
Mar
16

The Water-Level of Emotion Crests

*****

I’ve held back tears for so long, the reasons for them have blurred together.  Now, the water has risen to rim of the dam and is pushing me to release it.  But, I cannot just cry without a shoulder to catch those tears.  So, the wall must hold.  Or, maybe, I just need to get some sunshine…and not a dose of spring pollen or sunburn.

04
Aug
14

There Is a Bed–sad version

[I’m usually opposed to poetry. I’ve written my fair share of corny and depressing rhymes. But, every now and then, I opt out of writing my thoughts as a novel. This is one of those occasions. In this first incarnation, it’s a negative outlook. In my effort to cheer myself up and think more positively, I will endeavor to let my imagination run wild and write an uplifting alternative afterward.]

 

theresabed_scary-bedroom-setting_wallppr-ap1200750-1J

 

There’s a bed waiting for me,
Waiting to catch me when I fall,
Waiting to offer relief when I grow weak,
Waiting to make promises it can’t keep,
Waiting for me to fail,
Waiting for me to make another mistake,
Waiting to put up with me quitting too soon one more time,
Waiting to turn every “right” I do into one more “wrong.”
Waiting to tell me how to do better,
Waiting for me to spill my tears and share my woes,
Waiting to tell me my misery is my own fault,
Waiting to badger me about how I fail to respect it,
Waiting to ignore my feelings in favor of its words,
Waiting to taunt me with unsettling silence,
Waiting to remind me why it should be number one in my life,
Waiting to tell me it’s okay to be without friends and lovers.

I can fill it with dreams,
Dreams others might think foolish or immature.
Meanwhile, it threatens me with nightmares,
Nightmares others may simply say are part of life.
This matter can not be resolved with sex or drug use.
A one night stunt won’t make the troubles go away.
And, violence is out of the question.

It may not be the worst.
But, it gets its share of negative looks and gossip.
It may not be the most spacious or comfortable.
But, it’s currently free.

For all its worth, the tempting covers are laced with poison.
The frame likes to stick me in the back when my guard is down.
It changes when I expect consistency and reassurance.
It picks at my confidence and robs me of trust.
And, it often makes a terrible sound to disturb my slumber.

Still, I sleep in this bed…alone.
I doubt anyone would want…choose to share it.
A sickness creeps into my gut.
I have a choice.
But, the options are just as daunting and uncertain.

There’s a bed waiting for me,
Surrounded by menacing laughter and potential booby traps.
I can hardly rest with both eyes closed.
And, when morning comes, I struggle to plan my escape.

 

~Writingbolt, 7-30-2014

 




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