Goner

He was staring at a blank screen, mirroring his mind.  Everything that’s let out of our body requires excruciating pain like blood, babies, and words.  He kept on talking about this one big time he’ll hit it big.  Then deflate it with uncontrollable self-loathing.  Then escape to a song that sings about the piled up yesterdays and the gaslit need to escape.  He is running himself to a deadline to feel alive… or at least, feast on its overcasting fear.

And there are others like him, though the others seem more adept to the situation.  Either that or they’re clueless of the perilous razor’s edge with which all are trotting towards an unknown.  Nobody asks the important questions, everybody’s concern is cramped and wrapped in the thought that “as long as it’s not me” and move on.  The same mentality passersby has while passing by a car crash.  It sparks an immediate awareness that ranges from “That could’ve been me” to “Thank God that’s not me”.

Accountability and ownership to our actions usually is governed by some elaborate self-persuasion or a highly deceptive defense mechanism that involves inanimate objects or objects of unrequited worship.  It’s all centered on finding the most effective means of self-preservation and, if lucky, perpetuation.

After 18 years, he’s still staring at a blank screen, a white paper.  Had he been more reckless, he’d have a child bound for college now and a sheltered, healthy and fed human is an achievement.  It would’ve been a big question of what kind of human a man-who-stares-at-the-blank-screen-for-hours would’ve brought up in this world and influenced. He reckoned the child should stumble on unconditional love eventually, as a man-of-blank-thoughts should elicit pity.  Pity is within the arms length of love.

Still, the clock strikes 5 and the staring contest is over.  Another day, this guy is a goner, if he’s not already gone.