Father’s Day

Father’s Day

I’m numb. You read that correctly, my friend. I am numb as can be right now. I’m numb because I am empty. I’m numb because today is the first Father’s Day without my father; he passed away on August 30th, 2021 due to covid-related complications. My middle brother passed away from mental health complications. And today is also Father’s Day for me. Oh, it’s also Father’s Day for my niece and nephew – a reminder of the father they lost on August 27th, 2017.

Life hasn’t been kind. Then again, when has it ever been kind?

It’s hard feeling proud of a day meant for celebrating the life you’re responsible for bringing into this world even when the world overlooks the destructive tendencies of mental health and the critical failure of the United States healthcare system. Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love my daughter with every fiber of my being. We had a wonderful time together today. Myself, my daughter, and her grandmother (my mother) went out for breakfast at my favorite diner. Leftovers. The leftovers are still incredible, too.

Not to steal a line from the movie Rocky (2006)…

Watching her grow up before my eyes every day really is like a privilege.

But spiteful. Yeah. Yeah, I’m feeling spiteful also.

I don’t know what else I can say, really. Well, that’s a lie. I do know exactly what it is I want to say for days like these but I fear damaging my reputation by releasing what I truly feel about missing my father, missing my brother, and the indifference towards the people who let them down.

Tomorrow is a new day, though. Tomorrow, it isn’t Father’s Day. Tomorrow, it’s Monday – a new work week where I’ll be facing incredible odds working through the backlog of marketing tasks.

I’m tired.

Nothing Helps

Nothing Helps

Nothing helps. Not my edibles. Not my weed pen. Not toxic positivity. Not motivational posters and quote pictures from Pinterest. Nothing. I’m by myself. I’m stuck within my own little world. It’s a bleak world surrounded by failed hopes and dreams. The only light comes from the small crackling fire pit in the center of this desolate world acting as a beacon of hopes and dreams that will also never come true.

That’s fucked up, isn’t it? You’re surrounded by everything you have failed in your life yet the “promising light” is only full of the same path you’ve been down countless times before thinking “this time it will be different” or a form of “I will make it this time.” There’s a small voice in the back of your mind that you try to drown out with societal expectations otherwise you’re a failure. It’s a voice that grows louder and louder.

Then, blackout.

Next, you’re waking up on a “new day” in a universe that doesn’t obsessively measure time as we do. Repeat. Repeat every cycle you’ve promised you wouldn’t find yourself back in. Where do you go from here? There are no roads in front of you. Well, there are no roads anywhere. You’re stuck in some metaphorical abyss, remember?

Nothing helps.

It’s the end of what we perceived as time. It’s the end of where you were, where you are, and where you thought you would ever be. Here comes that voice again.

There’s only where you float in what you perceive as existence. Where do you go? There’s nothing ahead nor behind you.

“Nothing helps.”

“NOTHING helps.”

“NOTHING HELPS.”

Black.

Once more, you’re back in your home doing what you normally do for yourself even though it’s attached to societal expectations or otherwise you’re a failure. It’s the same bright start, the bleak middle, and the heavy burden of the end as you blackout again.

This would be the only time you could say that the universe truly does hate who you are, and only you. Because what would we perceive as life or our existence without the universe never punishing its destructive inhabitants?

Chaos is the baseline.

A pipe dream.

Nothing helps.

Black.