Timothy

Jack's Twisted Kingdom
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2004-04-27 00:52:55 (UTC)

smoke & mirrors

I imagine, I suppose, that in my desire to find that one
perfect person to complete my life. I overlook the very
obvious. I am prone to delight in the very things that in
other people have the effect of repulsion, and yet in a
very erotic and masochistic way, lure me in, and I do not,
and more oft than not, can not, look away. You don’t,
can’t listen. i understand. I really do.

it’s like a train wreck. the impulse to watch. the inhuman
and sometimes very human, obsceneness of it, makes for
fodder in an otherwise dull, mundane existence.

You go to work, school, pick up the kids, go to the cafe
down the street for your morning coffee, read the paper
see what is happening in the little corner of the world
that you live in, that the media has deigned absolutely
necessary for your temporal life. You endure the long
lines of the grocery store and while you sit there waiting
you notice the impulse buy rack and pick up a copy of
the Maxim, Cosmo or Tabloid news that you’d never really
read but you have 5 minutes of waiting for the old lady
to count out her pennies, or the misfit with the credit
card to decide which one to pull out and his or her coupon
book, they really need to save 50 cents on those dime a
dozen frozen food entree’s because they don’t know how
to cook for themselves and thier time is so valuable they
alot nothing for personal pleasure beyond the tv, playstation
or surfing online for thier next big buy, the email that tells
them all about the latest gossip about the boss.

so, it’s 7am, I’m waking up, or rather, I need to wake up
in 3 1/2 hours to go out and be a damned geek. I think
I can do the whole day on 2 hours sleep. hah! Saturdays
are the only days I have to myself, to do what I want, or
need to do. And I waste them playing rpg’s and misssing
movies I don’t need to see, but must see or I start to twitch
from the lack of escapism in my dulldrum life.

I don’t love you. I love my cats. I love money. I hate money.
I hate the way you dismiss me. I hate the word, Hate. I love
how you look at the world. I hate how you dismiss it. I love
your moods, your laugh, and your face. I hate your lack of
vision, your laments of life, love and faith. I love everything
about you, and nothing at the same time. You don’t get it.

I don’t get it. No one understands the real me, because I
don’t let anyone in. Those who know me best, I despise for
the masks I try to thrust on other people, I know, and they
know, the lies are transparent as glass. I love those people,
but I hate their pity, their conscience, their ability to look
beyond and see that someday I may become their idea of
a good decent person. They don’t forgive me, they don’t
forget, they don’t let me forget either. They know things
I wouldn’t have you know. I could never tell you some of
the things I’ve done. Some of the things I’ve thought. But
damn, would it be nice to get it out, talk about it. Release
the demons within. But I can’t. No one understands, they
would look at me, and try to get it. Or worse. They would
pity me, and try to console me. If I let them in, i couldn’t
shut that door. The flood would burst the gates. I would
be vulnerable, a child trapped in a well. Drowning in my
own lament.

I am Captain Jack Sparrow, and I confess my sins. I am
a thief, a liar, a poet, a madman, a visionary and I search
for treasure. But not all treasure is gold and jewels....


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