CONFESSIONS OF A TROUBLED MIND
This is no work of poetry, fiction – even though it might be argued that my thoughts are nothing but, - or even a happy hollow song that will get almost a billion views on YouTube. These few paragraphs I am about to write are nothing more, nothing less than my ideas, my thoughts and one might say, my feelings, freed from the chains of my oppressive numbness.
I have no idea of where to start. My brain reasons in a way that everything is connected, and that connection is made by an imaginary spaghetti-like line which connects my morning breakfast to my deepest philosophical thoughts.
I might start by pointing out that this text has no intentions whatsoever to change anyone’s opinions or trigger a religious pondering. The reason for this to even be written is for me to be able to understand myself, to be able to understand where life went wrong.
The starting point. That I’m sure of when – and where – it was. Childhood, of course, is the answer. I’m 90% sure that is always when everything falls apart. I’m also sure most of the times, the little house of cards you live in is blown away inside your own home, just like it did with me.
The problem isn’t the falling down, as life sure is going to knock you down repeatedly, either until you are strong enough to hit back or until you finally break and decides you’ve had enough. That is a test I have yet to confront, and I dread the moment I actually have to decide which option suits me better. The problem is the wall that is built around you, that protects you from the waves hitting the shore, the same wall that keeps danger out and the warmth in. It sure is cozy and comfortable to feel protected and loved, but I have to tell you, once that big blinding wall falls and everything goes to shit, you wished you had gone out and played in the wild, this way you would be used to the howls and the cold wind at night.
The wall is falling down; that is the point of ignition when the fire starts. It slowly builds up, turns into a big pile of flames, making you ask yourself if you are still alive or have you died and this is hell. The first time sure is scary. You know nothing, and you have no response. If only someone had told you that the world is going to take it all from you and leave you naked, empty-handed and broken.
Then comes the aftermath, which might be worse. Now you have the time; now you have actually thought of all that has happened and think of all the ‘what ifs’ that could have made all those events impossible, but that is useless and with time you shall figure that out.
I could tell you step by step, all the times life has said “fuck you” and actually fucked me like the new prison inmate, but if I actually did that I would be repeating myself for the rest of this – I shall now find a noun to describe this piece, – essay, as even though all the events in someone’s life are different, the steps are fundamentally the same. There is a start, the moment when you deal with the issue and the aftermath as I’ve said before. Instead of telling you all the times life has decided to play puppet with me, I will just let out a few of my thoughts on everything that has happened until this day.
A good starting point would be to tell you ‘blood is thicker than water.' Although that is bullshit, – and I was about to say complete bullshit, – it isn’t wrong in its entirety. Your family owes you nothing, and they sure aren’t going to help you in any way most of the times, but from my experiences I have to say the family is your most important good.
Unless you were born to the most fucked up parents in the world, your family is going to be by your side since your first breathe, not to say since you develop your first organ. They can be the most annoying self-entitled sons of bitches you know, but if you fall down the rabbit hole, they are the ones you can count on to rescue you.
The reason I say that this proverb is nothing but untrue is because I know family bonds are broken and shred easier than a piece of paper – which was once a tree, unbreakable just like your relationship with Auntie might have been.
Sometimes you actually need to break that rotten bond you had. Sometimes the best to do is to say ‘goodbye’ – or in reality say nothing, just pack your bags and go. Family are your first friends, but it doesn’t mean what comes first is gold. Sometimes the shit reaches us before the sun can shine in the sky.
That stingy cut leads you to seek affection elsewhere. That is when friends come in. For me, that isn’t much of an option, as I find human interaction nothing more than a boring, meaningless act which people use to veil their true lack of self-interest and pointless lives.
The social need for acceptance and approval that human beings praise is for me something truly fascinating. I wonder why someone would go through so much exposure for a hundred thousand – or even less – likes on their photograph. Are humans that hollow that they need to fill their lives with fake devotion? Is there a way for one to be happy on his own or simply by his own achievements? If there isn’t, I shall be sad until the day my soul leaves this rotting carcass.
The few true friends whom I do trust and speak on a regular basis have with me a much deeper connection than I’ll ever have with anyone blood related. I can tell this person anything, and I know my secrets will be safe with no judgement on their part. I imagine for most people this simple, affectionate interaction with a single person is not enough, for them the thing that counts must be the numbers – pun unintended… – instead of the actual depth of such interactions.
With all that being said, I think it’s safe for me to follow to my next topic without any of the ten readers of this essay to say I have no structure whatsoever – which is in part true, as I write what comes to mind.
The next bit shall be about emptiness. I’m not talking about a hole where you throw stuff, and it simply disappears, I’m talking about the quite similar situation known as your life. People think that their drive for power or their hunger for money will suddenly make them invincible or happy, but the truth is the only thing that keeps them happy is everyone’s stupidity. Their lack of questioning on the world’s ways of life is what keeps everyone’s simple minds busy with menial labours, such as child bearing.
Once you go down the rabbit hole and find yourself contemplating the thought that ultimately all the paths lead to death, you shall realise that nothing matters anymore. Education, ‘Success’ – or what society approves for your life, which is basically what everyone calls success, – Relationships, Love, Hate, Religion, all become useless and unimportant. When you do realise that your entire life was always something useless is when things get tricky – or interesting, depending on your view on your own emotions.
Lately, I have been having trouble to leave my bed. You can call me a lazy bum, and it’s alright… I do the same. One of the reasons for this would be my realisation that doesn’t matter what I do; it will all be useless. All that has happened, everyone I’ve met, all that I’ve done to this day, it was all pointless and all that I do from this day on will also be pointless. It is difficult to try and be a big shot executive – or any shit like that – and smile all day long when you know that at the end of the day Earth remains the same shithole going to hell as it was in the morning.
I guess all you can do is find something – or someone, if you feel like it, - that really makes you happy and drives you to be better and hold on to that – hold tight, with all your forces, you will need to.
For me, that something is music. It is the only thing that makes me happy; it is what makes me keep going. Getting better, knowing more about it, being happy for doing what I do. I don’t think I would even be alive anymore if it weren’t for myself picking up a guitar a few years back. Still, even with that burning passion I have for music, I feel that there is something missing, maybe someone, I can’t be sure. My point at this moment is that I’m empty, I haven’t found any reasons to be alive, but still, I might be too much of a coward to change that, or maybe I still have a little hope I will find a reason.
What I’ve found in music is what many search and search, with no luck in finding it. Some people try to find meaning in money, and others try to find meaning in ‘the beauty of our planet’ and most try to make their lives useful through procreation.
Parents think that by having children, their lives are finally going to make sense, now that they have another life to take care of! Now they finally have responsibilities, and they have to find ways to take care of that little guy crying in his crib and that sets them goals. The truth is much different, even though you are using another creature to ease your own existence, you are just being selfish enough to lead someone into the suffering this world inflicts. Never has the thought that you are making someone else miserable gone through your mind? I do understand that humans are not in any way different from other animals, being driven by their own carnal needs and fucking anything that has a pulse but the act of birthing another soul is just plain cringe worthy.
I believe this will relief me for a while and is more than enough to entertain your mind for two minutes so I might end it here. Do not be alarmed by what you have just read; this is no suicide letter as many have done, this is no cry for help. This is simply me trying to understand why people are so desperately in need to feel useful, to feel loved and to be less horrible than they really are. In this attempt to be somewhat intellectual, I have told you more about me than anyone to someone that actually knows me. Good on you – I guess.
Adrian Gabardo.
This is no work of poetry, fiction – even though it might be argued that my thoughts are nothing but, - or even a happy hollow song that will get almost a billion views on YouTube. These few paragraphs I am about to write are nothing more, nothing less than my ideas, my thoughts and one might say, my feelings, freed from the chains of my oppressive numbness.
I have no idea of where to start. My brain reasons in a way that everything is connected, and that connection is made by an imaginary spaghetti-like line which connects my morning breakfast to my deepest philosophical thoughts.
I might start by pointing out that this text has no intentions whatsoever to change anyone’s opinions or trigger a religious pondering. The reason for this to even be written is for me to be able to understand myself, to be able to understand where life went wrong.
The starting point. That I’m sure of when – and where – it was. Childhood, of course, is the answer. I’m 90% sure that is always when everything falls apart. I’m also sure most of the times, the little house of cards you live in is blown away inside your own home, just like it did with me.
The problem isn’t the falling down, as life sure is going to knock you down repeatedly, either until you are strong enough to hit back or until you finally break and decides you’ve had enough. That is a test I have yet to confront, and I dread the moment I actually have to decide which option suits me better. The problem is the wall that is built around you, that protects you from the waves hitting the shore, the same wall that keeps danger out and the warmth in. It sure is cozy and comfortable to feel protected and loved, but I have to tell you, once that big blinding wall falls and everything goes to shit, you wished you had gone out and played in the wild, this way you would be used to the howls and the cold wind at night.
The wall is falling down; that is the point of ignition when the fire starts. It slowly builds up, turns into a big pile of flames, making you ask yourself if you are still alive or have you died and this is hell. The first time sure is scary. You know nothing, and you have no response. If only someone had told you that the world is going to take it all from you and leave you naked, empty-handed and broken.
Then comes the aftermath, which might be worse. Now you have the time; now you have actually thought of all that has happened and think of all the ‘what ifs’ that could have made all those events impossible, but that is useless and with time you shall figure that out.
I could tell you step by step, all the times life has said “fuck you” and actually fucked me like the new prison inmate, but if I actually did that I would be repeating myself for the rest of this – I shall now find a noun to describe this piece, – essay, as even though all the events in someone’s life are different, the steps are fundamentally the same. There is a start, the moment when you deal with the issue and the aftermath as I’ve said before. Instead of telling you all the times life has decided to play puppet with me, I will just let out a few of my thoughts on everything that has happened until this day.
A good starting point would be to tell you ‘blood is thicker than water.' Although that is bullshit, – and I was about to say complete bullshit, – it isn’t wrong in its entirety. Your family owes you nothing, and they sure aren’t going to help you in any way most of the times, but from my experiences I have to say the family is your most important good.
Unless you were born to the most fucked up parents in the world, your family is going to be by your side since your first breathe, not to say since you develop your first organ. They can be the most annoying self-entitled sons of bitches you know, but if you fall down the rabbit hole, they are the ones you can count on to rescue you.
The reason I say that this proverb is nothing but untrue is because I know family bonds are broken and shred easier than a piece of paper – which was once a tree, unbreakable just like your relationship with Auntie might have been.
Sometimes you actually need to break that rotten bond you had. Sometimes the best to do is to say ‘goodbye’ – or in reality say nothing, just pack your bags and go. Family are your first friends, but it doesn’t mean what comes first is gold. Sometimes the shit reaches us before the sun can shine in the sky.
That stingy cut leads you to seek affection elsewhere. That is when friends come in. For me, that isn’t much of an option, as I find human interaction nothing more than a boring, meaningless act which people use to veil their true lack of self-interest and pointless lives.
The social need for acceptance and approval that human beings praise is for me something truly fascinating. I wonder why someone would go through so much exposure for a hundred thousand – or even less – likes on their photograph. Are humans that hollow that they need to fill their lives with fake devotion? Is there a way for one to be happy on his own or simply by his own achievements? If there isn’t, I shall be sad until the day my soul leaves this rotting carcass.
The few true friends whom I do trust and speak on a regular basis have with me a much deeper connection than I’ll ever have with anyone blood related. I can tell this person anything, and I know my secrets will be safe with no judgement on their part. I imagine for most people this simple, affectionate interaction with a single person is not enough, for them the thing that counts must be the numbers – pun unintended… – instead of the actual depth of such interactions.
With all that being said, I think it’s safe for me to follow to my next topic without any of the ten readers of this essay to say I have no structure whatsoever – which is in part true, as I write what comes to mind.
The next bit shall be about emptiness. I’m not talking about a hole where you throw stuff, and it simply disappears, I’m talking about the quite similar situation known as your life. People think that their drive for power or their hunger for money will suddenly make them invincible or happy, but the truth is the only thing that keeps them happy is everyone’s stupidity. Their lack of questioning on the world’s ways of life is what keeps everyone’s simple minds busy with menial labours, such as child bearing.
Once you go down the rabbit hole and find yourself contemplating the thought that ultimately all the paths lead to death, you shall realise that nothing matters anymore. Education, ‘Success’ – or what society approves for your life, which is basically what everyone calls success, – Relationships, Love, Hate, Religion, all become useless and unimportant. When you do realise that your entire life was always something useless is when things get tricky – or interesting, depending on your view on your own emotions.
Lately, I have been having trouble to leave my bed. You can call me a lazy bum, and it’s alright… I do the same. One of the reasons for this would be my realisation that doesn’t matter what I do; it will all be useless. All that has happened, everyone I’ve met, all that I’ve done to this day, it was all pointless and all that I do from this day on will also be pointless. It is difficult to try and be a big shot executive – or any shit like that – and smile all day long when you know that at the end of the day Earth remains the same shithole going to hell as it was in the morning.
I guess all you can do is find something – or someone, if you feel like it, - that really makes you happy and drives you to be better and hold on to that – hold tight, with all your forces, you will need to.
For me, that something is music. It is the only thing that makes me happy; it is what makes me keep going. Getting better, knowing more about it, being happy for doing what I do. I don’t think I would even be alive anymore if it weren’t for myself picking up a guitar a few years back. Still, even with that burning passion I have for music, I feel that there is something missing, maybe someone, I can’t be sure. My point at this moment is that I’m empty, I haven’t found any reasons to be alive, but still, I might be too much of a coward to change that, or maybe I still have a little hope I will find a reason.
What I’ve found in music is what many search and search, with no luck in finding it. Some people try to find meaning in money, and others try to find meaning in ‘the beauty of our planet’ and most try to make their lives useful through procreation.
Parents think that by having children, their lives are finally going to make sense, now that they have another life to take care of! Now they finally have responsibilities, and they have to find ways to take care of that little guy crying in his crib and that sets them goals. The truth is much different, even though you are using another creature to ease your own existence, you are just being selfish enough to lead someone into the suffering this world inflicts. Never has the thought that you are making someone else miserable gone through your mind? I do understand that humans are not in any way different from other animals, being driven by their own carnal needs and fucking anything that has a pulse but the act of birthing another soul is just plain cringe worthy.
I believe this will relief me for a while and is more than enough to entertain your mind for two minutes so I might end it here. Do not be alarmed by what you have just read; this is no suicide letter as many have done, this is no cry for help. This is simply me trying to understand why people are so desperately in need to feel useful, to feel loved and to be less horrible than they really are. In this attempt to be somewhat intellectual, I have told you more about me than anyone to someone that actually knows me. Good on you – I guess.
Adrian Gabardo.
