by Matthew Waters
How can there be a place for me when I know it has all been done before. How can I keep the excitement alive when I have done the same thing over and over, waking up in the same place. I am happy. But. I vomit when I feel that there is no point and that I am not contributing to society. But society seems to be functioning perfectly fine with out me and does not need me. Ask my dead neighbour. How do I contribute and make more of the same, more waste for us to remove, more rods for our own backs. It is easier to make more waste and then clean it up, to justify inclusion in society, to raise my voice about inequity, which separates and repeats, year after year, century after century. 'I do not understand', academics' tell me, and 'I think too much', my peers say. I am told to conform, to be sociable, eat their food, be polite, look nice and smile, and most of all say positive things. But I am told to be happy and true to myself.
To be happy. I want to be here and write to you and to tell you that you hurt me when you say that I am eating too much, wearing the wrong colour, sniffing too loudly, not articulating accurately, not expressing myself properly and need to do better next time. I am. That's it. I do not know my purpose. I have looked and thought so hard for it. I do not know how to tell you and anyone else what they should be and how they should do it. Because I do not know myself. So how can you do this to me? I am confused.
I like living. But the reason I get up each day is in a hurry to justify myself to you and then to go to sleep each night in relief that I got away with it. That you let me live another day with out telling me that I was wrong to be. Inside I know that this cannot continue. I wish it could, but this is my dilemma. I feel compelled to conform to plug into society to mimic others in order to earn an income to dance like a monkey for my food. Why, I think in every moment, why? I want to live with no goals and no winners. I want to live with an unknown outcome that is not judged. I want to try to see what happens. That is all. I want to write and make a living from it, to share it, to live my life. Let me write for you. Let me make you experience and take you to an unknown, without a goal, a prize, a judge. Just read.
Why does it have to 'make sense'. Sense to what. Let words be sensed. Move my mind into thoughts that have never been and follow that path. Are we scared that the path we follow has no return. But why do you want to return. Was it so, precious for you to return? You can take you, with you. Others can come too.
This journey will break the rules, it will have no safety nets, it will be free falling or flying. I don't know. I don't have an answer, years of experience, qualifications, mentor, peer, money or other marketing contrived reason to sell to you to insure your safety and convince you to buy. Just me.
I'm tired of trying to live to conform to whatever whim you think I need to pass in order to justify that I am able, worthy, competent and experienced, in order for you to pay me a pittance to serve you, to make you richer, freer at my incarceration and cause my unhappiness. Only to tire more and more each day and then die with and by regret, but to never tell you this.
You hurt me when you take from me without giving back in equal amounts. When you take to make your life better, at my expense, and smile in my face. Without a thank you. Without sorry for causing pain, in order for you to gain. To hear you say that life is a problem, when you take and take and never give. When I go without day after day and try to never offend, to 'turn to other cheek'. So now I vomit as it is the place that I feel safe. Where no one can take and leave me without a care. You are only here when you need, never because you care.
For years I have looked for my dreams to live my life as I imagined. And it has not come true. I have tried to live in the shadow of my dreams and the reality has been ruined by others who eat up the very last crumb before I taste and then ask for more. How do I make more when I have no food to sustain me to give you more. Then you ask for more and for me to help you make my dreams yours. Again how can I make you more and make your dreams when I have no food to sustain me? I ask. But you do not listen. You do not see. You do not hear. So I vomit. I hide in fear because I cannot make sense.
Written by Matthew Waters 16/2/2013