Cyber Hobo

Okay, so it’s been a long, long time since I last posted anything but.. hey, nobody reads this anyway.

Reading back at some of my posts, all I can think is, “Holy crap! I was so fucking whiney.” Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry to anyone that had to read that shit. I suppose sometimes everyone goes through a shitty patch of life.

Anyway, things seem to be looking up now. I know, I know, nobody gives two squirts, but I thought I should write this for myself, to show myself that there really has been a rather dramatic change.

Right now, I’m doing what I love, each and every day. Sure, I’m not getting paid for it as of yet, but I am actively moving towards my goal. Somehow I managed to move away from the crippling fear that was stopping me from doing that. I’m writing! I’m working on a novel! I’m following my dream! The story I’m working on has invaded my mind like an army. It’s blossomed into this whole world that is slowly taking form in my head and on the page. It seems… incredible to me. When I sit down to write, it’s like I’m moving myself into this secondary world. Sure, some of the places in this world are still a little foggy, but each day they get a little clearer. Each day, my characters get a little stronger, a little more realised.

I’m not sure when this process started exactly, but now it has a hold of me and I can’t see it letting go until the story is finished. Right this second, I don’t care if I live my entire life as a pauper if I can weave a story that will capture people’s hearts and minds. That’s what I’m working towards, something that will outlive me, something that people will still be able to pick up and enjoy long after I’m gone. This will be my legacy.

I know that anyone reading this is probably thinking something along the lines of, “Yeah, everyone wants to be an author, but it probably won’t happen.” Well, to those people, I say… You’re probably right, but by gods, I’m not going to give up. This is what I’ve wanted to be since… well, ever since I can remember. I remember reading the Narnia books when I was… hell, I must have been eight or nine years old and I remember thinking, “Wow, this person crafted this whole world for us…” I want to do that. I want to create a place that people can go to when they need to get away from their humdrum lives. I want to create a place full of magic and myth that will enchant and enrich people’s days when they step into it.

The next book I can clearly remember reading was The Hobbit. And if C.S Lewis put the idea of being an author into my head, Tolkien cemented it. These men, these… wonderful, wonderful men had created something amazing that had endured long after they were gone. Their worlds still exist on pages all over the world… but more importantly, they still exist in imaginations all over the world.

I’m not looking to make a lot of money, (Thought that would undoubtedly be nice) I’m not looking to be famous, I’m not even wanting the whole world to read this story. But if one person reads this book and enjoys the world I’ve created, if one person bonds with the characters I’ve breathed life into, then I will consider myself a success.

I suppose, if I think about it, it really would be nice to be world renowned, I do crave some sort of recognition, but it’s only secondary to my desire to make that one, unknown person smile… and laugh, and cry.

So, that’s my life right now. I’m following something elusive and unlikely, I’m almost entirely happy. There is one thing though, that could make it better.

I do still wish for a companion to share my thoughts, and my heart, with. I miss that companionship. I love my friends dearly, I do, but I’m not sure if any of them understand this… compulsion I have to write, to follow this seemingly impossible dream. They are the best friends one could possibly hope for, but they are not really readers.

I would very much like to meet someone that shares my passion for the written word. Of course, I’m also talking about someone who could be… more than a friend. It’s very hard to explain this… I suppose what I really want is someone that is both a lover AND a friend. I miss having that… special connection. Granted, my last relationship of this nature was… dysfunctional to a mad degree but… I don’t think I’ve totally given up hope of finding someone that fits that criteria.

Although, for an ugly bastard like myself, that might be as unlikely as becoming an author. No, no, I’m not going back to the mopey nature of my previous posts, I promise. In fact, I had a little chuckle as I wrote that line. Perhaps I’m developing a sick sense of humour about impossibilities.

After all, to someone that writes fantasy, what is an impossibility but the perfect basis for a great story?

Okay, wow, been a while since my last posts. I suppose not much has really happened since then… just day to day living. I’ve been getting by, I suppose. My heartbreak has all but subsided by this point, so everything that gets posted will not be tinged with self pity. About that one aspect at least, there is still a lot that I can find wrong with myself.

It has become clear to me that my life is completely static, horribly, depressingly static. This is no doubt due to the fact that I… well, don’t get out much. This is an incredibly annoying habit I’ve gotten myself into. There are a lot of things I could be doing, day to day, but overall it seems like far too much trouble.

I’m not a productive member of society, by any means. I have long since found the root of this behaviour though. I don’t see the point of doing anything. We’ve got… only so many years on this world. As much as I tell myself that I am immortal and will live forever more, the fact is that I am going to die at some point. Could be tomorrow for all I know. I find it very hard to motivate myself to do anything in the face of that.

What’s the point of building a life if, or even begining to do so, when, in the very next moment, it could be taken away? That’s the question that plagues me, that makes me hesitate. I don’t understand how people can just ignore that aspect.

Have I become too focused on my mortality? Before the little crisis that shattered my mind into tiny pieces, I was a lazy layabout for a much different reason. Back then, I didn’t see the point of making myself suffer through a job I hated, as many of my friends were doing, because I enjoyed enjoying myself, I took too much pleasure in the simple things life had to offer to… concern myself with becoming an office drone or subjecting myself to the… distasteful nature of the “Real World”.

Back then, I was so full of hope and optimism. I don’t understand why this one incident, however painful it may have been, managed to suck all of that away. I am obviously a much weaker person than I thought I was. Regardless of why I allowed that to happen, it made me hyper aware of my mortality for some reason and I now find myself paralysed by fear.

I used to be as sedentary as I am because I thought I had all the time in the world to accomplish things, but now I sit here every day and do nothing, because I’m too damned afraid to try and fail. It’s pathetic, I’m pathetic, I know I am, but I can’t seem to break free from this fear.

Looking over my previous posts, I have come to the conclusion that this site has become a “How not to live your life” guide. I know that I have gotten a little better over the past months, mainly thanks to support from friends, but I am still a wreck, plain and simple. I’m not sure there is anything I could do that would make me feel that life was worthwhile. I don’t know if there is anything that could make me want to take a chance on it.

For now though, I’m trying to take joy in the little things again, like I used to. It’s harder than it sounds, especially considering that not even little things happen to me anymore. I suppose I should be thankful that I wake up, that I’ve got an internet connection, that I’ve got food… but… these things seem hollow to me. Perhaps I am simply… spoiled and not worth the air I breath. I don’t know about that, but the more I think about it, the more likely that seems.

I wonder if the people around me would be better off I had never come into their lives. I don’t mean to sound all dark and tortured, but honestly… sometimes it’s really very hard not to think that way. I suppose anyone needs to feel wanted, needed, and… I don’t know if I am… or if I ever have been.

Tonight was a bad night. Terrible in fact.

I had dream after dream of that special person. Holding her in my arms, kissing her, stroking her hair as she lay in my lap. It went on and on and on, like my brain was trying to remind me of my utter stupidity. I woke up shaking like an epilepsy sufferer, my limbs not fully under my control. Once again, I felt the full force of my mistakes pressing down on me. I honestly thought I had moved past this… uncontrollable, overwhelming, crippling sorrow. But I was wrong.

I’ve realised that I still love her more than life itself and I don’t think that will ever change. After I quieted my shaking limbs and managed to sit up, I wandered around the house in a daze, remembering all the good times we shared while she was here. Sitting outside under the porch, chatting. In my room proper, playing Resident Evil 5 in co-op mode. Snuggling up on my couch. Making love in my bed. Sitting and talking shit in the back of a bakkie while being bounced around mercilessly on a very bad dirt road. All of those things… they made my life. I suppose that in the end, it was a blessing to have her in my life at all. If I died today, that’s what I would be thinking about until the very end. How lucky I was to have her in my life at all.

The touch of her lips, her fingers running through my hair, I miss it so much. I know that there was a lot of bad that happened… mostly my fault, but there was also a hell of a lot of good. They say that it’s easier to find the bad in a situation than the good, but I will have to disagree on that, it’s easy to find the good in those two years when I think about her. About how amazing she is. I’m just not sure she realises how much I changed for her, or how much I love her. I’m crazy about this woman, she still holds my heart in her hands, whether she realises that or not.

I know this blog has taken a turn for the morose lately, so I’d like to apologise to anyone that’s actually taking the time to read it for that. I would very much like to report on happy things that happen to me, but right now, my life is pretty much up the creek. You know the one, you go down it in a crude aquatic device and lose your means of propulsion, the one that is running deep with fecal matter. Yeah, that’s the one. I know that there are people out there that are having a worse time of it than I am, I don’t think I’m the most put upon person in the world, but for me this is a very trying time.

My heart is broken into a million pieces and I am totally and utterly lost. I don’t know what to do anymore. Life seemed very simple a few months ago. I had this amazing woman on my arm. Smart, funny, silly, nerdy, geeky, she was all of the things I love. I fucked that up, drove her into someone Else’s arms.

I still love her though, I don’t think I will ever be able to stop loving her. As far as I’m concerned, I found my soul mate, my happiness. She was the one for me. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the one for her. I wanted to be her knight in shining armour, I wanted that desperately, but in the end, all I did was hurt her.

Yes, I want her back, I want her back with every cell in my body, every fiber of my being, but that being said, she deserves to be happy. I am… devastated that I wasn’t the one to make her happy, but if she’s found someone that does… what right do I have to be selfish and desire her return? Love is meant to be selfless. If you love someone with all your heart, then you should be able to let them go, let them leave your life in order to find their happiness.

And yet… I still want her back. I want the chance to show her that I can make her happy now. I want the chance to show her that I’ve grown up, that I’m not afraid to express my feelings anymore. I want to show her that I’ve let go of all that stupid, blind anger. I want to hold her in my arms and protect her from anything that could possibly hurt her.

She’ll never give me that chance though, I fucked up too badly… and she’s with someone that DOES make her happy. I guess I’m just a fool, a blind idiot that believes in miracles. A dreamer that can’t let go of hope. A romantic that believes in the power of the heart. It’s… useless to think like that, but I just can’t help it.

If the US embassy would give me a visa, I’d probably be down there in a flash, doing everything in my power to win her back. I’ve even considered stowing away on a ship bound for there, sneaking into the country and living in a fucking box on the street to prove my devotion to her.  Yes, I am that much of an idiot.

What can I say? I love her. Love can make people do crazy things, stupid things… hurtful things. Am I stupid for hoping that one day we’ll be back together? Probably. Am I stupid for holding onto someone that doesn’t want me anymore? Probably. I am a fool of the highest caliber. And I bet you’re thinking that I’m pretty pathetic too. Well, I know I am, but I don’t really care. If you love someone as much as I live her, then you’ve got to be willing to drag yourself over broken glass to make that happen. You’ve got to be willing to bare the brunt of all the pain that will follow.

I love her still. And I want nobody else. I will accept nobody else. Call me stupid, call me pathetic, tell me I’m wasting my time, I don’t fucking care. I love this woman and I will do anything for her. I cannot fathom anyone loving her more than I do… and I just have to keep hope alive, that one day she will realise that and agree to let me prove my love.

Yes, I will endure this wrenching pain, this eternally lonely life, if it means that I have even the slightest sliver of a chance of making this happen. I love her with all my heart and soul and I need to believe that that is evident to her and to everyone.