A reminder that I’m nothing
A reminder that I hate
A reminder that I’m running
From that horrible thing called fate.
Nothing into something, and back to nothing again
You used to make my world go round, and spin and spin and spin.
Perched between mirth and sin, we found a lovely spot
I should have surely known that we ought to come to naught.
A knock to say I’m here
A knock and she’ll appear
A knock that I desperately fear
Ringing in my ear.
Deep breaths I take to let it all flush out
But each inhale brings fresh poison of doubt
I know I’ll never find her. She’s only a dream
Becoming a nightmare and a never-ending scream.
Always in my corner
Always never there
Making me a mourner
Of my dearest care.
It doesn’t matter what you are. You were never really there.
You’ve joined the chorus in my head singing glorious despair.
A thousands little demons, with a simple gleeful taunt
“There’s no purpose. Not at all. You’ll never find what you want.”
You’re the rhythm I have fled
The rhythm in my head
The rhythm that keeps haunting me
Until at last I’m dead.
When I was about ten, a traumatic event led me to a very dark place. It all cancels out is the phrase that echoed in my brain. I didn’t really understand it at the time. It felt like the world contradicted itself; all the different ways of looking at the world added up to nothing, and all I was left with was an empty void, my thoughts and feelings falling into nothingness. The despair I felt followed me, and I struggled with depression during my teenage years. However, I would characterize my despair as somewhat irrational. At the time, I still had reason for hope. I believed in things. I believed my life had purpose, and that I could do something meaningful with my life. I could do good. The depression that brought me to my knees with regularity I dismissed as a temporary problem, some sort of neurotransmitter imbalance. Despite the numbing feelings of worthlessness, life was indeed worth living.
Now I don’t believe in anything, and I’m dealing with what I would call a rational depression. All the cornerstones forming my foundation are gone. I’ve lost my belief in a God. He declared the meaning for life. I didn’t have to worry because He had a plan for me. But He doesn’t. I used to interpret my whole life under this lens: every bad thing or good thing had a purpose, and it was part of God’s plan. I don’t believe that anymore. My belief system was shattered, unable to withstand the scrutiny that resulted from my divorce and the ensuing consequences.
I used to believe in humanity. Sure, we royally mess up all the time, ranging from small selfish slights to atrocious crimes that stain our history, but overall, we are empathic creatures that care about one another. I think we are slowly (emphasis on slowly) evolving towards inclusion and equality for all. However, even with that belief, the mythos of humanity’s own importance is gone in my mind. Yes, I get a sense of belonging and purpose when I contribute to the welfare of others, when I add to the collective knowledge of humanity by doing research, or when I help another in need; however, all these feelings are programmed into me. Just because I’m generally a conscientious person, and I care about our collective welfare, doesn’t make me a good person. Even if we were completely egalitarian and created some sort of heaven on earth where everyone was valued, appreciated, and respected, that still wouldn’t make us special. It would just be the natural consequence of the evolution of a social species that thrives because of its engrained values, encoded over time through both nature and nurture.
The last pillar to go was love and connection. While everything else had vanished into meaninglessness, I still held out hope that I could find meaning with another person. Losing that dream is largely what the above poem is about. I saw something that didn’t exist; I transformed nothing into something, another illusion. In this case, I think I was ensnared to some degree by the fantasy she purposely presented. I felt special. But yeah, I wasn’t. She did not share who she really was, or what she actually wanted. As such I feel a bit violated. I’m sure not as bad as physical coercion, but games and deception certainly do mess with your head.
Regardless, there are very few people that are willing to deal with my honesty. I can’t help but be honest. If I tell someone, “You are special, and these are the reasons I love you …”, but simultaneously I tell them, “love and the desire for connection are primal urges developed over eons by evolution to propagate the species, and that there is nothing really special about you; there are millions of compatible individuals, you just happen to be proximal,” there aren’t too many people willing to accept these contrary positions. However, I can’t do the first without acknowledging the second, otherwise I feel dishonest, and more importantly, I wouldn’t feel like I am presenting who I am to the other person, so any connection is based on a lie, an illusion, but love itself is an illusion, so what does it matter? Does anything matter? … As you can see, I would quickly get caught in a vortex of collapsing, vacuous thoughts that would drive me into nothing returning me to the refrain: it all cancels out.
Add onto that the fact that I don’t think there are very many people with whom I could believe in, where I would see the dream and not the scaffolding, and there’s not much chance of me finding connection. What I’m left with is a lonely life with perhaps brief moments of that incredible feeling, where two people exist in the same synchronized sphere, but that’s all it will be: a moment.
All I am left with is writing, finding a modicum of escape in the fantasies I create. Can I create a world where my life matters? Where anything matters? Can the written word bring to fruition something I can’t find, like a magical grimoire, where reciting the spells transforms the world around me into the one I want? At the very least I can leave behind my indictment of the world, even if there won’t be a jury to convict, or a judge to execute justice.
