Bird As Fish

I realize how everything becomes so much clearer when I drink. Everything becomes what it is, instead of what I want it to be, or what I strive to be, but maybe this revelation is mired in vodka, maybe it becomes mixed in the drink, and stirred around in the bubbles, and beautiful blue goblet. I realize suddenly when I am drunk how lonely I am, and how much more I want to drink, how much I want to party with friends, but suddenly the revelation hits me like a schizophrenic off his medication, that I don't have any friends. I wish I could get totally wasted, and not here, not here at my house, where I don't even own my own space, but somewhere else, and somebody would take care of me. Maybe that is my utmost wish in life, I think it is, [as the alcohol swirls around in my brain] how lacking I am in life of anyone else who would care. That is what I need, that is what I want, and I feel like I am not myself, I feel like I am talking like someone drunk. Please, for God's sake, won't anyone give a shit about me, but sadly, no, that is not my part in life. I got stuck with, as it were, the more responsible part of the project of life, to live it alone, to live it strong, to live it to be the foundation for others, especially Naing and JJ, especially Nung, especially Nadiel, especially for Dad, who left long ago, to pardon those who cannot be all that is expected of them. I hope I remember this when I wake up from long stupours of alcohol's dreams. But most of all [and I realize that I am making no sense now] I hope I remember to find someone who will love me. God, is that so hard to find in this world? Apparently so. It is my lot to love others until the end of the earth, but never to gain anything in return, to never have anything back, to never trust, to never love [for love is without fear, remember], and I feel like I am always on the edge of it, always just right on the edge, balancing and trying to find somewhere large. I am looking for a large place, where I can exist free of charge, where I can love and be loved, without fear of falling. I am always almost falling, even when I don't think about it, even when you look at me and I smile back at you, happily. I figure that all I have to do is to try and finish writing everything down, and that would be a good time to fall, but I have to finish writing everything first. I can't leave without that being finished, or I think it would all be in vain. And no one would ever know me. I would be a waste of flesh, a waste of blood, a waste of my time. I have seen something that no one else has in the whole world, and I wish you knew about it, even if you don't care. And at the same time I understand if you don't care: there are too many people in the world to care about.

God, Dad, Dale, don't you care, won't you care, wouldn't you care if I [there is that selfish word again, that selfish work of me] vanished into a puff of smoke, expired like a lawn without water. Mire it all in alcohol, please, keep it hidden when I don't think of it, and think only of how I have not done the dishes in 3 weeks, and about the mold that keeps growing in the bathroom stall, but I think that I am a depressed drunk. Tomorrow, I shall go out and purchase more vodka for I have a day off, and maybe I shall try to find somewhere where I can live in a large place, not by myself, not by myself, and I shall continue writing until it is all gone. Don't waste it, don't waste this state where everything is as is, not as I want it to be.

The only problem is that it is hard to read the words when I am so drunk.

©2004 All Rights Reserved MJ Jackson
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