A fresh start

His body was sore. His muscles were tightening and forming solid. He stretched every so often to prevent his body from becoming stiff. He was never an active person growing up. He usually sought comfort on a sofa or in bed with the television on. This was new. Bursting with new found energy, he searched for ways to release it. Although he did not have the body he wanted just yet, confidence began to alter his ego. He could do anything he wanted and will in time. The bedroom was his gym and the hip hop that played was a motivating factor in his work outs. Sweat would pour down his face each time he lifted the weight's.  The weight of it would expose new cuts forming on his triceps.  The sweat would drip down his arms making his tattoos glow.  He would push the earth away witch each push up he did. The hours would pass and he wouldn't quit. His abdomen would burn with every crunch. He wanted to give up, but wouldn't allow it. He needed to change. He longed to be different and this was how he would do it. He was finding something to rejoice about in his life and would let nothing stop it. He was tired of dealing with his manic depression and was attacking it.  Little did he know that he was already in a sense the man he wanted to become. Little did he know that he was for the most part happy.

A romantic evening in Paris

He meant nothing to the world and he knew it. Everything about it was utter disappointment and he wanted out. The alcohol he had consumed was playing tricks with his mind. It was making him feel worse.  As he walked to the train station, he would fumble on to things. The streets were a jigsaw puzzle. He was shaken up and forced to solve it. Angry thoughts raced through his mind. Regret joined the race shortly after. After a couple of beers and and a low bank account he would consider himself a loser. Actually,  he always felt that way. The booze  only intensified the feeling. He had a tough time climbing the steps up to the platform. He had to hold the rail with dear life and pull his way up. A train had come and gone before he made it up,  and passengers getting off would look at him in disgust as they crossed paths.  He wore the alcohol like cologne.  His bladder in agony, he walked to the end of the platform. A stream of urine poured onto the tracks as an orchestra invaded his head. The relief put a smile on his face from ear to ear. A light flickered and dimmed as he zipped up his pants. He knew it would be a while before the next train would arrive, so he decided to entertain himself with thought.  In his mind he saw himself. He examined himself in this thought and found a joke. A joke of which he was the pun of.  He had nobody. After a short while he stopped thinking and stared down at the tracks.  The air was silent except for the occasional passing of a car or ambulance down below. A new thought surfaced. "What if I jumped?" he thought out loud. It was fine since the only other person on the platform was roughly ten yards away.  The dimming light slowly faded. He was alone in the dark at the edge of the station contemplating suicide. Suicidal thoughts have plagued his mind in the past. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. He was up to his last one ironically.  He took a look around for cops right before sparking it. The coast was clear. As he contemplated, he played a specific song on his ipod.  A song that would keep repeating itself.  Thoughts of remorse  had crept into his mind. A flashing of light appeared in the distance.  The man at the other end of the platform was out of sight. Another light flickered, dimmed, and faded. The bright light in the distance grew closer and closer. He took a few more pulls of his cigarette before flicking it onto the tracks. As he waited for the train, he turned the volume up to maximum on his ipod. The platform began to tremble as it approached. His palms began to shake. sweat poured down his forehead. The light grew brighter. He closed his eyes and sang along with the song that he kept on repeat. The train  violently makes it's way to the platform. His adrenaline is pumping at maximum speed. The train rushes toward the end of the platform. It is as if everything is moving in slow motion to him. He walks over to the edge. He raises his arms, becoming a crucifix. He kicks off of the platform. He hovers above the tracks for a moment. Just long enough to see the train...............

Random thoughts about....

 PARAGRAPH ONE!

 The philosophical Social Network enslaves our minds. We are drawn to it's presence. Without it life in this "brave new world" may cease to exist. Whatever happened to being courteous? Rarely do I ever hear a "please" or a "thank you". It bothers me because I was raised to say these things, and to see people twice my age disregard these sayings is bothersome. Humanity is capable of so much. Our minds are incredible, yet most people chose ignorance. Nobody wants to think outside of the box [Status update] anymore. They want the thinking done for them.  I hate the saying "the children are the future". They will too just become neurotic, uncaring, perverse adults. Once sex enters their vocabulary, they will be ruined. The very society we have built as a species was created for the sole purpose of having sex. Men will achieve great things, but it is not " a man's world" by any means. It is and has always been a woman's world. 

PARAGRAPH TWO!!

I close my eyes and enter a world where none of this matters. The blue sea is ever growing and my hammock sways with the winds between the tree's. In this world there are only a few surviving human beings. People I have taken a liking to.  The seagulls glide through the air with the minimalist of effort and the carcasses buried beneath the sand  are scentless.  a beach ball lands on my belly and I laugh. My friends laugh too. Up ahead we notice a ship approaching. We don't want to have to hurt any one, but we know we are going to have to. In order to be happy we can only allow a certain amount of human beings to live.  We jokingly name the approaching ship  Columbus.

PARAGRAPH 3!!!

"It's my guilty pleasure"the morbidly obese lady said to the person at the counter. She then grabbed the extra large cup of lard and began to divulge in it.  She settles the drink down for a bit wipes her mouth with her sleeve  and smiles. " Can't be good all the time" she says.  The streets have become an obstacle course. Twisting and turning and ducking and crying have become a part of a walk. We live in a fat Nation. A nation of high cholesterol, excess body fat, and so much fast food you could feed probably everyone on the planet at least three meals. When I go hungry it is only for a day or two. Halfway around the world hungry is the norm.  Granted this is the United States of America and we are free to have guilty pleasures and to become as fat as we want to be, but couldn't we share some of what we have to the people that don't have?  It does not have to be a political thing. Just a humane thing.   

PARAGRAPH 4!!!!

Our mayor is worth  17.5 billion dollars.  There are ten multi- billionaires in New York.  Put some food and clothes on a couple of 747 Jets and ship them to the people that need the help. Who needs that kind of money? Gordon Gecko[wall street] said "Greed is good." Economically maybe. Trickle economics can work, but is greed really good?  Maybe envy blinds me. There are good people out there. A group of super rich Americans do give back. 

FINAL THOUGHT:

We are all responsible for everything that happens on this planet and to our species.  Because of our incredible minds we are obligated to preserve life in all forms. It  may be a while before the rest of us realize we left the caves though. Someday everything will be right.

I wear my sunglasses at night

The sun had settled hours ago and the moon shines high and bright. The streets that were covered with people just hours ago lay empty. The only people you see are the night crawlers. The junkies, The whores, The winos,  and the homeless. The night brings about the uglier side of humanity. You are not one of these people, yet you have no choice but to walk amongst them. You want to escape your reality, but are stuck. The only way out is from the toke of the canibus. The first few hit's are the strongest. The smoke burns your lungs and forces it's way out in a violent cough. Your knees begin to tremble as your face turns red. Eventually the coughing stops and the next couple of hits go down smoother. You progressively get higher and higher, and your thought's become more focused. It is at this point where the world does not seem so bad. It is here where you forget. You think your cool all dressed in black with your chest hair peeking and sunglasses shining. The only light you need to protect your eyes from are the street lamps, which are dimmed or flickering. You pass up the people you are escaping from. They stare at you and know. And you know that they know.  It's no matter though  because you lose yourself in thought. Your in a place where your imagination runs rampant. Anything that can happen will happen. You keep your music on high and a cigarette to lift you higher.  Your music and your sunglasses become a barrier. Nothing can enter or escape it. In this barrier giants roam the streets, Vigilantes slay the wicked, Tree's rise from the sewers, and the world moves through the beat of your ipod. You want the world to know that your flying high above it. You want people to look at you in question. In this state, your no longer just a man, but the epitome of rebellion. No one can get to you.  you walk past a couple of officers and don't even bother to remove the shades. They don't even try to question you. You know that they know and that's all that matters. You are at peace and for the most part the world accepts you.. sunglasses and all.

"The cigarette and me"

This is the second time I have gone through withdrawal. Addiction is a terrible thing for many reasons, but You don't know how bad you have it until you don't have it.  I've been a smoker for  roughly four years now.  It started in late November. I remember moving back home. I was stressed and sick. I was a neurotic mess. I had lost most of my friends by this point and was jobless. I would converse with my mother a lot during this time. Every now and then I would "bum" a smoke from her pack. I remember the first couple of times I would try to kill the cigarette in the ashtray. I would do a sloppy job at it that after a few minutes there was still smoke coming from the ashtray. My mother would call me out on it all the time.  My first brand of cigarette was Marlboro Smooth.  Every time I would pull into one for the first time I was delighted with the taste of it. It was not so much minty, but it was a refreshing and uniquely tasting cigarette. I was in love with the brand for a few months. When I began interning on Wall Street, I would sneak away from the office once an hour to have a cigarette. It  was nice being that free.  I would grab my coat and head toward the elevator. I was on the eighth floor I believe and on the way down I was surrounded by important people who were going downstairs to do the same thing I was. I was a part of something I felt. I was an adult. Each time the prices were to increase I would vow to quit. Every time the prices went up, I remained a smoker. Shortly after my stay on Wall Street I started to pursue other opportunities that would be much better suited for me and my talents. I decided to get back into sales. I got offered a job that I knew very little about and ended up becoming a door to door salesman for a day. I was stressed out once more. I was jobless and could no longer depend on my parents to support me.  I needed to work.  I found work in a coffee shop. The first few months were tough for me. I never pictured myself in the food industry and was overwhelmed by the job, my co-workers and the customers. It was a new world for me and I felt silly. I thought to myself often that I was wearing a suit and tie just a few months prior and now I'm making coffee and scrubbing toilets. I had already made a bond with the tobacco by this point and there was no way I was going to break it.  Overtime things at home became progressively worse. My father going AWOL and my mother losing her grip on things. The tension that surrounded me made me smoke even more so. I started feeling my health decline within the first year and a half. I was depressed, stressed, and angry. I did not understand why life had taken this unnecessary turn, but it had and here I was in the middle of it.  Eventually we moved. I went from having my own room to escape to, to being 23 and sleeping in the living room. There was a rule which was no smoking in the apartment. That rule was easily dismissed. It was there where I decided it was time to quit the habit.  And i did. I quit for a few days. The stress didn't go away. I began smoking again. I have tried to quit countless times while being there, but to no avail. I finally moved out.  I began taking on more of my own personal responsibility.  i started to gain my own independence.  I go now three days without a cigarette.  I am stronger now than I was when I first started with the habit. I'm ready to move on.

Homeward Bound

Darkness fills the sky.  The evening customers start to come in one by one. You see them at the same time every night. You greet with a nod, maybe a hello and before you know it the transaction is over with. You resume to your cleaning tasks and this repeats until it's time to lock up. Once you turn the lights off and lock up from outside, You'll want to light up a ceremonious cigarette.  You made it another day. The rides home at night are the longest.  The best part about them are the possibilities of finding a seat are much greater. While waiting for the train to arrive, you'll stare unto the tracks. The tracks are filled with litter and rodents. Occasionally you'll see a rat running up the platform and just pray that it  turns around before running past you. Eventually the rodent reaches you. It stops in it's tracks of course and stares at you for only a moment before continuing it's trek across the platform.  You focus your attention once more on the tracks and turn up the volume on your ipod. Before the volume is all the way up, you'll hear the shrieks of women from down the platform. This makes you grin. The train comes. The doors close after you have chosen a seat. You pick the seat that avoids the loud couple at one end and the homeless man at the other end. Instead you sit opposite a Latino family and there three sleeping kids. Glances are exchanged with the parents from time to time. You just avoid looking at the homeless man who has started a conversation with himself about government secrets.  The homeless man gets off at forty second street. The Latino family is long gone. The loud couple  and you remain. You don't know what either of them look like even though you'd like to. You arrive at fourteenth street and get off. So does the couple. You walk past them to avoid having them think you are following them. You get to the L platform and look for a good place to stand. You are surrounded by hipsters and gangsters. Two groups you do not fit in with. While waiting for the train a pretty girl stands next to you. You glance over at her and she does the same. A few moments pass and she walks away. You watch as she does. She ends up on the other side of the platform. The train comes. This time there are no available seats. It is after midnight and you are standing in a crowded train.  It always feels weird when you stand over someone that is sitting right in front of you. You think "I hope my fly isn't unzipped." It is then and only then you become more aware of strangers glancing at your crotch. It actually works in reverse too, when your in the seat and someone has their crotch in your face. No matter what, it is always an uncomfortable situation. Before you know it your leaving the train and walking home. You play it cool. You toughen up, but not too much. Just enough for people to not want to start any problems with you. It works. You make it to your block. Instantly you start looking for your keys. Not because your scared of getting mugged, but to keep the rodents away from you. They stay away from noise. You finally make it to your door and give your keys one last shake before you go to open it. Your trash can rattles and shakes. You stand back and watch as a rodent the size of your forearm leaps out and runs under a parked car. Your shaken up for a moment, but proceed to open your door.  Your home now. You enter your bedroom and turn on the light. You drop your bag and turn on your computer.  The fan goes on last. You take off your shoes and turn on your  music. As you are doing all of this you are looking around. Your home.