I am an artist of self-destruction, suicidal sometimes, yet I am also a lover of life.
A student of my life.
One who has learned from 50 + years of experiences, that, in the end, as in the beginning, win or lose, we are all cut from the same perishable cloth, and likewise, all destined to have the same meager possessions when we leave this world.
We all get a shiny slab of polished granite carefully placed above a manicured six foot hole in the ground.
A student of my life.
One who has learned from 50 + years of experiences, that, in the end, as in the beginning, win or lose, we are all cut from the same perishable cloth, and likewise, all destined to have the same meager possessions when we leave this world.
We all get a shiny slab of polished granite carefully placed above a manicured six foot hole in the ground.
This is the extent of what I know for certain, the rest is like an unread novel. One that I will read once and then pass along.
So, that being said, why do so many of us focus our entire day on goals and financial gain?
So, that being said, why do so many of us focus our entire day on goals and financial gain?
As the greatest writer who ever lived, William Shakespeare, once stated so eloquently, and I will paraphrase, what comes between the date of our birth and the hour of our demise is known to no-one. At least not until it has been played out upon the stage of life.
We think we have hope, but hope is a mistake, an illusion. Too smart for our own good, we go on kidding ourselves that we are living the good life, when in fact, we spend most days dreaming of an unattainable future.
I am a skeptic and a pessimist who dreams of one day writing pages and pages of terrific tales of war and peace, like Tolstoy, just not that famous.
In truth, I am an alcoholic and drug addict of the lowest form.
I have hurt hundreds of people with my words and my actions, and if I could indeed kill myself, I would do it in an instant.
Unfortunately however, at age 56, I am alive and well, and sentenced to live out the rest of my life on a tiny peninsula located on the Southern tip of an eastern Canadian province. A final breath of fresh-salt-air in what has been nothing more than a life of depression and despair .
I'm hoping that when the end does finally come, it will be swift and painless. Perhaps, in his famous ballad called 'The Gambler' the folk singer Kenny Rogers was right. The best that we can hope for is to die in our sleep.
Thanks for reading my weekly dark thoughts, My writing skills that were apparent to some, ten years ago, seem to be returning quickly. I may have once again found a voice and a desire to be real—and if my uneventful life is all I can muster to jot down at this moment, then so be it.
My drug and alcohol soaked brain is seeming to be finally repairing itself day by day.
I will write more soon. The choice to read this depressing garbage is entirely yours.
