Here I am in my world, and there you are in your's.
All is fine and well, no one knows of the hell,
that you and I experience and tolerate.
What does this all mean?
I'm right and you are wrong.
I believe this, you believe that.
I did this and you did that.
I went here and you went there.
My culture teaches that I am right, the things I believe.
So I judge you, and although your culture teaches you the same.
I still maintain that you can't be right, for it is written in the books.
But you have different books that teach you something else.
I stepped out from the norm, formed my own opinions,
I was rejected by my culture and my people.
I saw thing differently than even my own.
A brand new revelation.
They taught me that it was wrong to listen to the music.
John said some things he shouldn't have said.
But John was independently minded, open minded, and probably on drugs.
At least that's what I have heard.
So does this make John a demon? Does this make his less important?
Does this mean that God doesn't love John anymore, just because he made mistakes?
Don't we all make mistakes? Didn't John seek out his spirituality despite the words he said?
Does this make him wrong? We look at his faults, not his heart, not his good.
So judge me. I am wrong, I crossed the line, I denied my cultures beliefs.
So am I bad like John? Did I fall from grace?
Am am doomed to demoralization? Am I less of a man?
Judge not lest ye be judged.
Don't' we all experience doubts in our lives?
Does this mean we are evil?
Are we judged by our actions or our heart?
Judge me, tell me what you think.
Am I evil, or am I destined for hell?
Do you know what I feel? Do you understand my rational?
Am I less fortunate than you?
Am I less than you?
We journey through this life clinging to to our own beliefs, hopes and dreams.
When the hopes and dreams of our past are not reality in our today,
What did we do wrong? Why am I like I am?
Why do you ignore me when I am in the despairs and darkness of a phase in my life that I don't understand? Why do you avoid me when I am at my worse?
And why do you acknowledge me when I am at my best? I am the same person either way.
Whether I'm up or down, happy or sad. Confident or confused. I'm still the same man.
That's OK. Encourage me not. Embrace me not, for you see, I am just a man.
So when a man is down, is this what we do; ignore him, avoid him, pretend he isn't there?
Do you lose faith just because a man is dealing with tragedies in his own life?
Are you right and I am wrong?
If you pass a man on the street and he is kind, appears normal, and kind, acting out the normal functions of a man, then do you stop and say hello?
If the same man is sitting on a bench, confused, in pain, hungry, distraught, desperate for answers, do you look the other way?
We are all different. But all the same. We all believe in something.
We all have a cause, a purpose.
But if a man is having troubles identifying with his self, is his self worth any less.
Does self matters apply to me only when I am well?
Does self matters mean that I matter only if I act or speak a certain way?
Am I an eye sore for this message board?
Do I bring discomfort to your mind?
Do I turn you away because I am down and out?
If this is the only way I know to express myself, then does this make me a bad person?
Is it wrong to hurt? Is wrong to be different? Is it wrong to be me?
I feel that I am a reject, a nobody, time is devouring my heart and soul.
Friends become strangers when I am in need.
Is this the way we are as people.
If I said, Oh I'm happy, everything is well, how are you, blah, blah, blah, the are you my friend?
But when I dive into the deep clouds of emotional turmoil and despair; doubting myself, and hanging on to the promises of life, joy and happiness, but slipping deeper and deeper into the darkness, then do I become a stranger to you?
My needs aren't important.
My troubles are mind to bear alone.
My way of dealing with my confusion, pain and despair are not what one would expect,
So this makes me inadequate and unworthy to be a person.
This makes me a lost cause, a man not worth feeling life.
Will you understand one day? Will they ever listen?
what will it take to be accepted as me?
As I stand on the edge of the cliff of life, looking down at the great fall,
Is this the time to walk away, when there's little hope left for my life.
On a path to certain self destruction, let me go. I would be one less to worry about.
I try to set my soul free from this turmoil and seemingly hopeless case of what we call life.
One more bites the dust. Doesn't really matter, now does it?
I'm not concerned, nor do I care. My time will come.
Who will cry for me? No one I hope. I have been reduced to a mere group of molecules, atoms, flesh, blood, failing in all things.
How I wish I had those old feelings, those hopes and dreams for tomorrow.
But tomorrow may never come. This is not important. There's noting special about me.
So I lay down my honor and dignity.
I give up my token of self worth, and importance in this life.
Let the breeze blow upon my body, telling me stories of truth, defiance and deceptions.
Let the eagle cry, and take flight over the majestic landscape of God's earth.
Oh, great bird of majestic beauty and exaltation, you are awe inspiring to many.
When you spread your wings and take to flight, no one knows where you might go.
Let you beauty and graceful flight be one of honor and recognition for all to see.
While I quietly bow my head, and think of the things I used to believe in,
Realizing this is my life, my ways, with the dreams all gone,
The hopes all diminished.
The reality dominating my soul.
My existence isn't relevant to the symphony of this life.
I play another tune, sing a different song, therefore, not to fit in.
My instrument is rusted and obsolete.
My songs are not heard, not a part of the grand scheme.
It's all mysterious; the things that used to be in black and white have faded to nuances, shades of gray that all run together on the canvas of my life. No clear delineations of the portrait.
No clear picture of my life as it once was very clear.
No one who can see the vivid colors of hope, excitement and dreams that once covered the canvas, and my brushes painted a bright and hopeful future.
Now, all the colors have blended into one mass of gray, no definitions, no clear picture.
Where did the colors of life go? Where did the vivid dreams of happiness and hope go?
How did they all fade to a life of hopelessness, helplessness, and absolute annihilation of all portraits of life as I once knew it?
Bleeding hearts are hungry for truth.
Wretched souls are thirsty for life.
Defeated minds are searching for answers.
People who are different are searching for a place in this life.
But as time goes by, and the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, one by one;
And soon it is obvious that my piece has no place in the puzzle. what does this mean?
Patiently waiting for years on end to find my place in this puzzle of life, only to realize that I have wasted all of these years waiting for my chance to fit in, and at the end, there is not one place for my life in this giant puzzle of life.
Again, this is NOT a suicide note, Yes, I think of death daily.
NO, I DO NOT PLAN TO END MY LIFE. NATURE WILL TAKE IT'S COURSE, AND WHAT'S LEFT OF ME, FEEBLE AND DEFEATED, SHALL YIELD TO THE OVERBEARING STRENGTHS OF LIFE'S CHALLENGES, AND MY TIME WILL COME, WHEN THE LORD SEES FIT.
All and All, I have no place to go, no one to see, no avenues left to explore.
So I sit and wait for my time to come.
I shall be a part of something on the other side.
A place that has a reserved slot for my piece of the puzzle on the other side.
So I shall not despair, I shall continue to deal with these demons of torture, this life of disappointments, this person who I have become; how, I do not know.
