A Story About A Book Called My Life

My life is unraveled to me, like a page in a book. Sometimes I try and skip paragraphs, peek at the next chapter, “call out” the next phase. This is the type of book with multiple and alternative endings. If I try and skip ahead, curious to see what will happen, I find options as to where I can and/or must go to next. I am unable to simply flip the pages back. However I read the book, even though I may find myself at my original page, or sometimes further back than I was, I am unable to turn back the pages.

I have a habit of being impatient, literally jumping like a little child who sees the parent hold his/her favorite candy from afar. It is a bad habit in my world, because I make hasty and final decisions, not to mention believe in plunging head on and attempting to swim after. I read the pages and try to be attentive, but I also have a humongous and colorful imagination. My brain likes to process fifteen things and nothing at all at the same time, while playing a home made movie complete with a soundtrack to keep me company all day long.

This all takes place while I am doing what I am supposed to do in my daily life, including carrying out active conversations with others. I read people well, and mentally summarize them in a few short minutes, allocating active listening space to them based on initial and progressive understanding of the people and situations I meet. You would think I would be highly successful by now, I do have an amazing brain, I guess my impatience has gotten in my way.

Unbeknownst to me, my bad habit Impatience went off and married another one of my lonesome habits residing in my brain, NegativeCommitment. I guess NegativeCommitment was lonely because s/he refused to commit to a person or thing on my behalf, preferring to be “wild and free like a bird”, as though I know how birds feel. Well, wild and free is my motto and yet I find myself highly frustrated by these alternatives being offered when I skip parts of this book, as I search for the Next Best Thing.

It needs to be Next and the Best, for each thing I have sought and conquered was supreme. In my colorful world, I have done many strange things. I have always thought I should have lived with insane superstars. In moments of self-pity and martyr, I find myself grateful in the knowledge that with each ridiculous roller coaster ride I embark on, that there is one if not two close family members or friends aware of what I am doing. Each witness is apart and estranged from the Next and each roller coaster dip unrelated from the Last so an exchange of notes will not exist.

S/he may be questioning my mental frame of mind at all times, but I figure it should make for an interesting funeral if nothing else. Everyone and No one knows all my sides. I am good at being a walking contradiction, most visible to myself. My words have always been my armor, I elicit exact responses. If it is goose bumps I seek, I get them, if it is an audience, I command it, if it is silence, there we go.

So I am reading this book that by and large Makes sense and is Nonsense, while trying to peek at the next pages or altogether skip large chunks of paragraphs. Much like the people and situations I have made a life long habit of studying, I have summarized my existence and purpose in less than 500 words. It is a great two paragraphs and a very bleak one. I see stars and heaven in my visual, as well as a never ending dry desert.

I know that it is much more than my ego, this thought that my first and last name is a great one, that I am a great one, and can do all things. I also know I am working on my Last eighth life, I am the cat that fell from the roof of the building and into the pool. There is no ninth life for that one. I see myself drown and I flip the pages in an effort to get to a part where I come up for air, where I can breath.

My world is very colorful. I roam an endless desert on tired worn feet, but I am also drowning and the sea is an endless dark and angry vortex. I am enjoying and not, this book my fingers are destined to thumb through, though I now desire to borrow my neighbor’s, or ask for a quick trade for a few minutes.

I am running out of nails and cheeks that belong to me to bite into. Vices are becoming a little too expensive for me not to notice that they have moved in. Its funny and not that the characters in my world are causing a riot with their fun, when all I see is the riot.

My chief regulator, Ms Seriousness tells me to chalk down my great visions to a pleasant dream. It says I need to keep flipping the pages and get to the end already, what again did I think of me? I keep thinking as I flip through the pages of this book my fingers are stuck to, that that part of me must be right, for I am not liking what I see. What I can’t shake, is what I Believe.

My fingers are getting tired, and I am giving in to the bi-product aka seed of my two companions Impatience & NegativeCommitment, Despair. I am Despairing of my dreams, they are becoming tiring to me. Things I want and the opposite I receive as though prayers that the devil answered. I keep thinking while looking for reprieve that the world must seriously be bored to pick me as its comic strip. I am the cartoon character in a show that is televised at times when I am asleep, the joke’s on me. My Greatness is now taunting me as I turn the pages, not caring how I drag the pages, which I tear, which are dog ear. You ready to be real? I keep hearing, to a tune I can’t get out of my head.

Yes, I am ready to be real I say, I give up, it was foolish of me to dream this hard and long. You don’t know any better, Ms Seriousness says, turning my page to a chapter I care not to read the heading of. You have always been strange, thought and felt strange. You have always been a dreamer, always thought people could dream their lives alive. I remember many times when you were young, I had to take that pen and paper away. I remember you staring at people needing help as though you were the saint that was sent. Well, from now on, and to ensure no more pain from this foolishness, I will lead the way. It will not be fun, but at least we will be going straight.

Well, this is definitely not fun no more, Ms Yei! says as we flip through each page. I know what I am doing and why, yet it still doesn’t make sense. I know I signed a pact to stop being a dreamer, make my book count toward something in the end, but why am I now haunted with ghosts of PastSense. I used to control my powerful mind, the images and colors my entertainment, when did I lose that. Why is it that the stars and my heavens disappeared, the scorching sun in my desert all I see. The pages I turn are uniform, long, heavy like lead.

Despair went off to a high school called Auto-pilot, I fear s/he has no plans to graduate. Ms Seriousness checks in once in a while to make sure I’m keeping to my part, reminding me as though I easily forget, what hopes and dreams have done for me so far. Very little makes me cry, but every time Ms Seriousness leaves my head space and Ms Yei! whispers, “I believe in you, I know you are meant to be exactly who you think you are supposed to be. I know it because I see it”, I cry.

I am flipping through these pages, but I am not reading them. I have actively turned to my neighbors now, I help them read their books. Turns out the time I’ve spent reading and studying people plus my intuition, helps solve a few hundred problems and none. I wish I could do this all day, my book is suffocating me. I am really hoping that in fact one good turn deserves another, and that someone who can handle me and not go into instant delirium, will come fix my problems, for they are many.

What are they? Well, this book I am forced to flip isn’t mine to begin with, I know it has my name at the front but I swear someone got something wrong somewhere. I need my requests re-routed, I can’t be getting the exact opposite of what I ask, or what I ask for in a seriously demented way. I am not feeling the characters in the book, everyone has a problem, I need a better and much more clearer outline at the beginning please. Oh, and finally, take away this beautiful brain and power of words I thought was a blessing. I am not interested in carrying around this ceaseless curse any more.

What is ceaseless about it? Is that Ms Yei! never ceases questioning Ms Seriousness, Ms Seriousness never ceases writing and commanding more decrees for me to follow as punishment, and that I have to accept that my heart and the very essence of me is now slowly, seriously dying. I have never felt so alone, so thirsty and so tired in this desert called my life.

My book is not fun, and my beautiful mind knows that no vice will ever make it better past today. I see scorching sun, sand and grit all day, and a dark cold, bitter wind all night. Ms Yei! moves around in my head, shuffling feet, but for the most part, all stage lights are off, crew has cleared, the show is permanently off.

We are now in October of 2010. I am slowly turning the first page of the next chapter. Since my theatrical companions were forcibly evicted from my beautiful brain and replaced with schedules and vices, I am streaming a radio station. I did not choose this station, all previous stations refuse to play for whatever strange reason.

I am trying not to get livid. It seems that very little starts up my monsters these days. I think while I start to read the first uniform, heavy and untrue sentence in my book, well, what else did we expect. The sentences read untrue because I am stuck reading this book that my fingers are attached to, but it is not my book! I feel like I have been branded and dressed to play a part I never signed up for, and are getting punished for not acting or pretending to like it any more.

Ms Yei! is gone, Ms Yei! made me smile and believe through anything, now I am just alone, thirsty and tired in this desert that has filled my beautiful brain. I had no idea how expansive my imagination was, just how great I had it, until the sand filled it up, blinding me with the scorching sun’s reflection.

Alone, because this is me. I am known for good times and problem solving. I also appear invincible, are unapproachable and produce the best PR with my inward appearance. I do not talk if I don’t want to, my walls are high and heavily guarded. Ms Seriousness told me that I couldn’t talk, that that and filling peoples’ heads with how great they could be was the foolishness we were trying to avoid.

I could not turn to my neighbor and say: I am drowning fast, I am also dying of thirst (should I swallow the water?), and my joy was taken from me, because I could never make any of my dreams come true, so I chose not to believe, so my joy was taken from me, because I gave it up in order not to bleed. I can’t take any more of my heart’s bleed. It is killing me, for the first time in this book called my life, I fear it is going to win.

So I turn on the radio station that is not my first choice, and wait for the next page as I finish off the last sentence on the first. The music in the station has stopped, there is silence, and a clip is played. The voice repeats this over and over again, “God did not give up on You, You gave up on You. You gave up on yourself and your dreams, You did that. God did not give up on you.”

The pages on the book called my life hastily flip back as though blown by the wind, and the PagesPast start to tear and float up and around me, carried in a circular wind. My incredible imagination is filled with photo albums, words, songs, phrases, home made movies, faces…I start to see it, I look up at the heavens that have replaced my scorching sun with all these things laid out, and I start to see it. I start to see how many times and ways Ms Yei! tried to nudge me in my night dreams and day “coincidences”, how many fresh starts I was given that I bitterly misunderstood and cursed at.

I see all the pages, paragraphs and sections I missed, lessons I should have learned. I see the truth of what I thought were my friends, which were the values residing in my beautiful brain, that I allowed to control my Regulating machine, hence accepted when they said they were for me, that they were.  NegativeCommitment is the reason I lost my loves and opportunities, the reason I judged and abandoned so many worthy people, the reason I allowed Stubborn to come in and reside.

Impatience helped push Ms Yei! to the back of my beautiful brain, for I was too impatient, self-centered yet practiced egotistical pitying, to read her nudges, decipher her codes, heed her recurring thoughts and dreams. Despair fed Ms Seriousness, born of Ego, and chief childhood defender, so that she took her role to prevent me from further hurt a little too seriously. She grew in monstrosity but not wisdom, for childhood fears do not grow alongside us, they are born and kept in ignorance, hence Darkness.

I allowed an immature part of my beautiful imagination to take control of me, and define me. Well, why wouldn’t that happen? I have an army of “me’s” working for me, a self regulatory body that is geared to the fulfillment of me and me things. I gave up my colorful world, my God given talents, my possible Great Imagination and Power of Words for that!!!!???????

My life is unraveled to me, like a page in a book. My desert dried up, I only noticed it was gone. My heart found its home, it sits happily nestled and held in trust. I feel like the cat that fell off the roof of a building and into a pool, sitting and purring on my owner’s window ledge, all lives intact. My imagination is running, I am having the time of my life trying to catch up with it.

My beautiful brain sees more colors and things than it ever did before, and my words move people I will never meet. Every word in this book called my life is important. I have been given a fresh new pair of eyes. I am reading the best book I have ever written in my life, and all because He never once gave up on me, not even when I made the conscious decision to give up what was freely given to me, for what I thought I alone could achieve, and when that failed, begun to believe less of me.


A Story About A Book Called My Life

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