Major

Hello. ... Can you hear me? ... Do you know where I am? ... Do you want to know? ... I have been looking for you. My whole life. ... From the first moment I ever felt it, the search began. ... Despite all the high speed impacts at dead ends, I carry on from the wreckage. ... Some says it's an addiction, a personality disorder, a dependency. ... Call it a dream that I wont stop chasing. ... Everything I've done, up until now, has been for you. ... Sweat, from the world on my shoulders. ... Blood, from all the defensive wounds. ... Rivers of tears, shed from agony. ... To rise from the ashes anew, to be strong for you. ... I've expanded my search, vast, as I knew it would be from childhood. ... A journey, an adventure, a mission. ... Somewhere on this planet, is where you are. ... Enduring life with strength and wisdom. ... Maybe you too have faced these dead ends. ... Maybe you too have been to hell and back. ... Maybe you too cause fear of the fearless. ... Maybe you are looking for me too. ... If the universe thinks I've earned enough to deserve you, ... I will find the way.

shit post

Depression. A chemical imbalance. A genetic inheritance. An absence of biological balance and nutrients. An accumulation of traumatic events. A brain ravaged by agony. I am all of the above. For a decade, rising from the ashes. Holding a fist to the sky. Taking a stand. Being the bravery the world lacked. Coming such a long way. Holding my ground. For what? There is a hole in my heart, so deep. Only magic can conceal it. A magic in the form of perseverance. In the name of what is right and wrong. At the cost of only getting deeper. A solid foundation. Financial stability. Clean and healthy environment. Optimism. Confidence. Strength and independence. And the only desired rewards are furthest from my reach. to feel respected. to feel acknowledged. to feel relied on. to feel wanted. to feel loved. Love. This special word. One of our greatest gifts of consciousness as animals. All I ever wanted. All I thought I needed. That it was companionship. Adventure. Mutual respect. Trust. A team. A family. A fairy tale. Only ever to be an object of sexual desire. Nothing more, nothing less. Has this consciousness condemned me to endure this mundane life of struggle, evil, environmental deterioration alone? For weeks. Sick to my stomach. On the constant verge of tears. Helpless, worthless. Unquenchable thirst for life. I just keep going. Maintaining my composure. Drowning it out with music. /Depression

Hello

And here I am again. Left to my own thoughts. Trying to find a useful way to occupy time with my resourcefulness. Chickens and ducks are fed, daughter is holidaying, dogs are still sleeping. This idle time bears a heavy silence. I'm tonguing where I bit my lip earlier and staring out the window into this quiet neighborhood. Sometimes quiet is violent*. There is a strong sense of apathy for this particular Christmas. Thanks to the THC that resides in an M&M cookie and the smoke from my piece, I am able to project the needed face to glide through all of the human interaction. Sorrow and anguish burn like no other acidity in my stomach. The distinct corrosive sensation when the air from my stomach comes back up through my throat and burns it's way back down. This distracts me from the futon. The couch side table, with it's absence of electronics. The abundance of room under my bed. The emptiness in the shed. The melting snow in the vacant parking spot. The cold on my skin. I should have known. When I allow myself to the point of desperation, it's a lost cause. A cause that so commonly results in this manner. This is what happens when you give your heart away. I keep forgetting. Love is not real. It doesn't exist in nature. Animals have the drive to protect and support a mate for survival. Companionship is preference. Humanized; it's love. We aren't surviving. We are aimlessly existing. I attempt to reassure myself that it's only this country in all it's ungratefulness. 'There's always something bigger and better out there' or, 'If it breaks, just buy a new one!' The never ending consumption. No genuine value for anyone or anything. Only a unhealthy obsession with superiority. My heart and soul reside in nature; where the sounds, smells,and constant flow of healthy energy is from it's resilient survival and evolution on this planet. I am at one in nature, where I am defined by my physical strength to fight, and my ingenuity for survival. Not defined by my paper currency, material objects and a knowledge of our own embarrassingly slow progression through evolution. Here I am forced to compete with the standards of feminine appeal for men, adopt an ignorant language, etiquette and lifestyle. Laboring for currency to adhered to imaginary lines owned by people. Preach meaningless things to my offspring so that they can follow in line. I feel my aimless existence very heavily. This is why I keep a plethora of animal companionship. It soothes my soul to be able to understand such a sacred language. A calming presence I was raised by. The only interaction that ever felt normal. They taught me to be a real Homo Sapien. I just happened to be trapped in the middle of a populated coastal city. *car radio, twenty one pilots

Dream

I could tell myself this was only a dream and keep my eyes closed. Opening them would only unveil the reality of my situation. A cold flat surface beneath me. It offered no dream-like comfort. The smell of mildew and cement stings my sinuses as I struggle to breath through my nose. This was a prison and there was no room for dreams. Keeping my composure for seven years on a space colony hijacked by a crooked dictatorship had ended. Explosion was inevitable. I was hoping that somewhere along the way, I would be executed or the groups that escaped after the hijacking would return to liberate us. Liberate me. One of the founding leaders who stayed behind. Overtime, I no longer feared death. We are a dying species after all. The remainder of our kind was scattered into space when our planet died. Our hope was finding another inhabitable planet we could inevitably destroy. Our quality of life is deteriorating and even more so under the harsh conditions of these evil people who took advantage of a kind and vulnerable community. Our colony is one of hundreds of thousands. We were a people of ingenuity and technology, led by science and understanding. Our research helped us travel through space using efficient energy created by waste. We identify unexplored solar systems and maintained a peaceful way of life that was rapidly becoming self sufficient. I used to joke about our colony being the 'Utopian Society' depicted in old age literature. I imagined there were other colonies out there with the same hope, the same drive for knowledge and freedom. Sometimes you take a chance, try to form alliances and maybe increase that possibility of obtaining the objective of peace. Only to be snuffed out by an overwhelming force of greed. A week before my imprisonment, I started waking up at odd times in the morning. My room was dull and outside was dark. The daylights had yet to be turned on and my alarm wasn't to go off for another forty five minutes. After four days of this, I was struggling to cope with reality. My job required me to monitor the fuel and gas levels of our intake valves that filtered space debris for energy. I was so restless from this disturbance, I would often rely on the other people in my department. After our system was taken over, there were members of the elitists assigned to each department to oversee everything. Gordon, our power hungry supervisor could sense a disturbance in the air as well. I could feel him shifting in his seat as he perched high above our cubicles. He examined each one of us with his cold piercing dark eyes for abnormalities. Each hour throughout the day, the 'daylight' would adjust according to how our sun would project light on earth. I could always see the increase or decrease in light as the abnormal filters changed, fixating on that unnatural transition of light. Today the light was less noticeable in my blurred state of mind. It was as if the fluctuating numbers on the screen were serenading me into slumber. Just stay awake until lunch. Twenty minutes out. Then, for some reason unknown to me, the numbers began to drop and alerts began popping up all over my monitors. Without stirring too much, I glanced at everyone's station. No abnormal readings for them. This was being directed at me despite our hive-mind system. A few deep breathes to stay calm and slowly engaged my data. The numbers indicated something blocking the intake and no debris was going through some of the channels. The turbines on top of our colony would start to power down to conserve so that the problem could be identified and addressed before resuming full power. Gordon stood up from across the room which startled and my heart jumped into my throat. He slowly stalked out of the room, still peering over everyone's shoulder suspiciously. Again I looked at the other computers and no alarms were being triggered, no readings were declining at alarming levels. Just mine. I took out my phone and captured a few shots of my readings before shutting everything down and logging off. I joined the mass of people emerging from their dark offices to the cafeteria. I grabbed the standard lunch of filler food, liquified nutrients and sat down at the end of the table in utter confusion. Am I dreaming? "Cardwell." Came the deep authoritative voice of Gordon behind me. The cafeteria became quiet. "We are going to need you to get your things after lunch and meet us upstairs." Turning around slowly, I raised my head to meet his gaze. "Yes sir." Calm and cool. He watched me for a few moments to see if I would react in any way that would give him reason to detain me now. I let out a subtle yawn and turned around, pretending to interact with my food. I let the whispers play out and acted upon my lack of sleep; rubbing my eyes, stretching and softly sighing as I tossed the uneaten food into shoot at the end of the table. Break was over. I kept to myself as I headed back to the office to gather some things from my desk. When I got there I noticed everything was missing. I looked around the room and found a spiral bound notebook of mine caught on the roller to an open window. As I approached I could see more paperwork outside the window. When I leaned over to see if the rest of my things had mysteriously been strewn about outside, someone pushed me. In the instant I hit the ground, I heard the window shut and the blinds close. This was no longer time to analyze the situation. I needed to get back to my apartment and figure out what was going on. The parking garage where my scooter was would register my presence and the departure of my vessel so I decided to take the janitorial scooter. As soon as I hit the pavement I could hear shouting behind me and adrenaline took over. My body pressed against the scooter as I twisted the accelerator. I wasn't use to the speed and swerved into both sides of the streets. I could hear horns and the roar of sirens behind me. I turned down a side street and into a block of taller apartment buildings, maybe gather enough time to figure out what I was doing. I wasn't going home. There was no time for that. I was running for my life. Somehow they figured out what I had figured out or worse, my identity revealed. Fear felt good; reacting on instinct, fleeing, doing anything but following mindless mandatory orders. The skyscrapers climbed higher into the sky and I realized picking one to hide in was the only way I was going to buy some time. Suddenly, in all directions, were men on high powered scooters. I steadied the speed of my own and stood up on the leather seat, launching myself in the direction of a window. Luckily the impact was strong enough to break and I went crashing into a furnished room. My arms and hands stung from being nicked by the all shards of glass and I retreated into the hallway. The door to the stairs was being opened by a resident. I used my body to ram her into the door, stealing her key and pushing her out into the hallway so I could lock it behind me. I tried to pace my breathing as a hint of panic began to set in. The stairs echoed as I stomped up each flight to drown out any noise of someone entering the stairwell and heighten my panic. When I couldn't run anymore I burst through the door of another unsuspecting resident using the stairwell. "Oh I'm very sorry sir." I curtsied apologetically and smiled. He seemed very intrigued by my manners and happily waived it off. My legs felt like fire as I raced through the hallways, looking for a room to hide in. At this point my window of time was closing so I began turning every door knob. Eventually I came upon a door unlocked and jumped inside. I held my breath and listened intently but the flat was empty. All except the humming of a fish tank next to the entry way. I locked the door and collapsed onto a couch. It wouldn't be long before they traced the very obvious trail of blood to me. I managed to get my phone out of a pocket. Despite the damaged screen, it was fully functioning. Blood from my hands on the screen made it difficult to register my commands as I fumbled through files. I looked at the screen shots of my monitor. Something is blocking those valves. Maybe someone is blocking those valves. Maybe someone is trying to get into the colony through the intake valves. Maybe we're under threat from another colony invasion. Maybe all of the additional information hidden deep inside my database allowed me to get past all of the stealth modes. Maybe I was going to die in this flat. Attempting to calm my breathing didn't help the light headedness sweeping over me. I kept adjusting and squinting my eyes to see the ever dimming phone in my hand and wiping away the blood that trickled from my fingers onto the screen. The last thing I made out was an incoming message that I frantically struggled to open. It read, "Idiot." People started pounding on the door. I jumped off the couch and used the rest of my strength to ram it into the door. More shouting and gun shots. I could hear the bullets ricochet off and into the walls. I probably wouldn't have been able to tell if I got hit. I caught the daylights dim into another evening hour and stumbled to the window. My ears were ringing and I was pretty sure I was close to passing out. I pressed my bloody body against the window and opened it, looking down. I couldn't help but laugh at my pathetic attempt to flee and the fact that I'd only made it up maybe eight flights of stairs. The top part of the door crashed open and people began to claw their way through my blurry vision. I sat back in the windowsill with one leg dangling out the window. I think my final act of consciousness was muttering something about the fish tank and I let myself fall into the darkness. When I open my eyes my senses confirm a cement prison cell, worse than detainment, filled with mildew in the cracks in the wall. A steel door and rectangular monitor in the wall are the only identifiable shapes in my little square prison. My wounds had been washed and treated but not bandaged and my body aches to the point where blinking caused discomfort. "Hey" I shout and instantly regret. My chest is the center of this pain, ribs were definitely broken and anything other than shallow breathing is unbearable. I bet they had a great time dragging a lifeless body all the way here. Petite woman or not, violence is their answer for everything. Hours, days, and years could have gone by. I drift in and out of sleep for an eternity. I have a small padded mat that I finally allow myself to lay down on and stare up at the ceiling. I keep myself sane with dreams of better days, sipping the water that was occasionally brought to my cell and going over the mental images of those screen shots. The monitor flickers on and I open one eye. The transmission is grey and fuzzy. A voice is getting through the billions of networking blocks, preventing any foreign airwaves to broadcast but I can tell by the frequency that it is playing on every monitor, everywhere. "To take back," So much heavy static and high pitched ringing. "Colony 786-AMN." That's us. "Come on!" I shouted, pushing myself up against the wall. The blood rushes out of my head too quickly and my torso slides back onto the floor. "Come on..." "Colony 786-AMN.. Commander.. To take back what these pigs have stolen from us." Pigs. Idiot. I start laughing uncontrollably. "We are here to reclaim our colony from the reign of this foreign governing virus, liberate our people and restore the way of life that was shattered by this disturbance. We will fight, we will die and we will be free." The broadcast is interrupted once more by heavy static but quickly returned. "To leave without any.. First and foremost demand is the release of our captains.. Grid is under our control.. have been immobilized." My laughter quickly turns into what I can only imagine sounds like pitiful sobbing and I feel an overwhelming happiness and recognition. "Shawless, you idiot." Came his voice. I am captivated by the voice I have not heard in seven years, insulting me on a colony wide broadcast. I can die happy now.

Begrudge

I can draw a line through another name, ending a long friendship. This isn't the first, second or third time this has happened and it won't be the last for this particular incident. Call it Alcoholism. For the weak minded.
I'll add another name to my list of people who I can not forgive. I always apply the saying "An elephant never forgets" to my feelings on forgiveness but you were right, I'm not an elephant. 

I need only keep a visual list of people I can't trust, almost everyone before my eyes. In terms of mental stability, people carry a lot of bad things with them.I myself have been drowning in the rush of euphoria, immersing myself into the heavy plot of a good love story in Japanese Anime on Netflix. It's a cold sensation when a show ends and I'm forced with the loud reality ringing in my ears. I'm still here. 

'You can't make me think like you mundane.'

Samurai Champloo

Once in a while I find an entertaining television series to binge watch on Netflix. I am emotionally invested in the plot and it's characters. It's always a plus when there's a love story in there. I get anxious at the end and maybe I fast forward through filler to the climax. Once it's over I spend a good amount of time processing what happened and it's re-watch value.
What do I do now? Google possible sequels?
That is how I numb myself from reality.

I was thinking the other day that maybe in a past life I lived Japan. That's why I feel such a fondness for their disciplinary culture and history. I was also thinking that I must have done something awful for love, because I was reborn as an American and I'm a single mother.
I try to obey the morality of what I think the universe projects and I am accepted by the rewards for my honest work. However, my punishment is living as an outcast amongst a selfish and ignorant mass of human beings. The only ones that have any amount of awareness, struggle with their own exceptence and what society wants them to be. Drinking their lives away, living to hurt other people with their carelessness. A never ending list.
I try to be strong and set an example by keeping a level head, being honest and standing my ground. In public I am able to hide my violent temper behind a mask of tolerance. My grandfather told me I would probably never get married because I had little manners or respect. I voiced controversial opinions like anti racism, atheism, pro abortion and my problem with authority. I didn't tell him that I thought marriage was a dying concept. Overtime I realized that the expectations of women from older generations were still embedded into society. I could compare my grandfather's interactions with me to previous boyfriends that felt threatened by my intelligence and strength. Not that I was even that intelligent.
Along the way, my unique demeanor would be chalked up to Asperger syndrome. The definition always amuses me;
A developmental disorder affecting the ability to socialize or communicate.

That is one of many disorders they label you if you don't learn the same way the majority of people are said to learn. I call it indoctrinating.
I learned how to communicate from animals. I understood their sensory language. It seemed to come naturally to me. I felt like I was born with a stronger sense of instinct. Instincts that are slowly becoming desensitized by technology. It was finding room for all of these filler emotions is what fucked me up along the way. I struggled for acceptance from society for what seemed like eternity.
I was boy crazy. Driven to find that happily ever after fantasy played out in all of the movies I watched growing up. School didn't matter. What was education? I was brainwashed by this idea and neglected by any nurturing environment.
Except for the company of animals.
It was my cats that taught me how to explore, be playful, be rough and defend myself. I didn't get much from hamsters. Birds made me sad as they nervously paced around in their cages longing to use the wings they were born to function with. It was dogs that really helped me begin to understand what human beings were.

At first it was a cute thing to do. My mother sent me to stay with many members of both sides of the family. The same family members who turned their backs on me once my cute innocence was gone. They all had dogs. They thought my love for dogs was cute and were unaware of the psychological impact it was having on me.
Most of my canine companions were very tolerant of me, some were happier when I was in their company. Some were suspicious. Some couldn't be bothered. I was even attacked by one. After that incident, everyone assumed I would be terrified of dogs. But I was in the wrong when I was bitten and despite stitches on the side of my ass, I wanted to understand more.
My first dog was a Curly coated retriever named Dakota, from a store in the mall that was later shut down due to their association with puppy mills. I spent hours with him exploring the forests, following the sights, sounds and smells of our surroundings. I'll never forget how alive I felt out there. Then I was under the pressure from my mother to potty train him, stop him from accidents in the house, under the constant threat to give him up. Dakota taught me forgiveness. No matter how angry I was with him or what I did to him, he still loved me. When we had to give him up I wanted to know how to teach them our language.
That's when I dove into dog training. Learning basic commands, training techniques, and a little bit of psychology from books and videos. I started working with friends dogs, assessing their problems and working on my own  techniques to fix them.
I did this off and on for years. Volunteering at animal shelters, service dog training programs, working at a grooming salon and eventually having paying clients of my own.
Then I realized it wasn't the dogs I was training. I wasn't helping the them at all, only pacifying materialistic people projecting this ideal behavior onto their pets.
Dogs taught me how deceptive human beings are and that it's hard to trust their instability. Lying, backstabbing, cheating, manipulating to get what they want, to fit in. Filler emotion. They taught me how to live my life; be aware of my surroundings, be loyal, stand my ground, defend my friends, how to read body language, how to read people's emotions and unconditional love.
I don't know if many humans are worthy of that kind of love.

Hard drive

You can live your life trying to be somebody you're not or you can just live.