Poor Man’s Therapy. Page 04

You should be as tough as the rest of them, to watch out only for numero uno… your own god damned fucking ass.
But live life and try to enjoy and cherish every moment that you have with a loved one, because this very moment, what really counts, the bond and feelings that you may have for one another… will never be again.

The strange reality of it all is that you can never be the person everyone expects you to be, as well as the unprecedented individual that you long so much to be. You see, those that really love you would tell you to go be your success, and upon your arrival will love you even more.
You get one life.
Disregard all the reincarnation and next life next chance at redemption bullshit.
It’s this very moment that counts.
Live the dream as you see fit, uninfluenced by the whole media nonsensical baloney, and do not let others dictate your life, or tell you otherwise.


Poor Man’s Therapy. Page 03

We live in a world full of lies and liars.
We are not told from the very beginning about the inequalities and judgmental unfairness through which the world, and reality revolves. In this day and age, what happened to subtlety and humility?
Why is mankind prone to feeling superior, and to looking down on their stubbed, up-turned noses at those whom appear to be inferior? The bestselling book of all time, The Bible, seems to have been read, and then disregarded, if read at all.
The most hypocritical, and hateful judgmental liars among us feel redeemed, because they maybe attend church once in a blue moon, and feeling refreshed and forgiven of their sins, turn once more again to ridiculing their fellow man.

I am not two different people.
I do not portray an image and frankly do not give a shit what you think of me.
But then there are those that always presume to know you, drawing on stereotypes of some sort, or drawing conclusions based on the company you keep and the way you live your life.

The truth, as I have come to realize, is that people are flakes.
They go about their businesses like a bunch of righteous ‘do-gooders’.
Yet their true nature depicts that it’s a man eat man world, each for his own, and they will drop the so called friends they may have known for a lifetime in order to succeed.
These are the hypocritical insomniacs that roam our world with half fake grins.
They possess the ability to stare right into your eyes, and lie as though it’s no big deal, expecting a lot… but never giving.

And the not so cold at heart individuals among us view the world in the only way known to them, through naïve eyes, all the while surrounded by enemies that treat them with false kind gestures and phony respect, only to find that at the least unexpected moments… I won’t go into detail…

Poor Man’s Therapy. Page 02

Hold on a second. Maybe I should rewind a little, possibly give you a little insight to me and paint you a masterpiece; I’m hoping, a work of art, based on my reflections from a time when naivety and simplicity were a part of me.


My name is not important. Besides which, I would very much like to remain anonymous. Not that there’s any particular reason, simply just that I like it this way. My origin or age is also of no importance or concern to you. I mean seriously, what could you possibly gain from knowing?

So anyway, moving on, I will be your narrator. What I’m about to tell you, I’m hoping you’ll keep in the strictest of confidence. I’m also gonna need you to adhere to the whole confidentiality and non-disclosure thing because, well; never mind- tell whoever the fuck you want.

But before we continue, I’m gonna take a wild guess here; it’s purely based on assumptions, but you most probably live in what I refer to as the “societal norm”. A world whereby what people think of you is very important. You take your job or your education or whatever you do very seriously because it’s important to you. It’s a means to survival. You are somewhat influenced by the media although you won’t admit to it, and it doesn’t matter that you’re successful or close to success, heck you want more- the penthouse suite, salary increase, expensive suits, flash cars, latest technologies…etc. Don’t we all? Yet you are never satisfied with each new purchase or advancement in life. I bet that you are two different people – the real you, and then the image of you that you portray. But do you honestly believe that nobody can see you, the real you, who you really are? But then there’s the possibility that maybe I’m wrong about you.

Anyway, the thing with this whole ‘life’ thing and reality is that it hits each and every one of us in different ways. Some people, it hits real hard and at the most unexpected of times, leaving scars that sometimes just can’t be healed. Some people get hit, but with a little luck on their side, come out on top. It’s not in my nature to appear as though discordant or cynical, but among the latter are those known to assert that “man makes his own luck”. Well I stand on the emphasis – some call it ‘notion’ – that “luck is simply when preparation meets opportunity”. Obviously it’s clear that these fucks do not realize that having been prepared, they would be in the shit-hole had opportunity not presented itself. Because hunt as you may, it’s just not that easily found. Then of course there are those who just seem to have been carried, drifting along, literally, having been given a road map highlighting the road bumps…

Poor Man’s Therapy: Page 01

The morning light cuts through the room. I’m not ready to get up just yet. I turn my back towards the window, bury my head into the pillow and try to continue the dream. I’m pretty sure it was a nice dream. Notice I said ‘try’, because after several attempts I give up. You don’t always get an ending to stories.
I sit up on the edge of the bed and look around the room. I guess what you’re expecting here is at least one paragraph describing the room I’m in right now. I remember back at school, the teachers were always disappointed with my use of adjectives. Some felt that I would never grasp the ability to describe, purely through words, the surroundings and places I wanted to depict. Well, teachers apparently know best.
They gave up on me. And I accepted that maybe I’m just not cut out for that.
It was pretty obvious at the time that I did not possess that ability.

I push my arms out behind me, and pull up, gradually over my head.
My shoulders click and crack into place, I arch my back and stretch.
I seem to be sitting on something. I stand up, it’s the remote control.
I pick it up, press play, and slowly limp my way to the bathroom.

The face starring back at me portrays no expression; I look deep into the eyes, trying so desperately to find something, anything, some kind of a sign to somehow convince me otherwise, that one way or another there’s still hope, a chance at emancipation, to make right, certain wrongs.

Time passes, I don’t know exactly how long. Then a smile, forced. The kind of smile that offers you no hope, the kind of smile that is followed instantly or maybe even at that very moment you smile by a soft sigh and yet does not advertize despair. You know you’re beat. It’s the very moment it dawns on you that maybe there’s no way out, that maybe there’s no possible escape from this proverbial shit-hole, that no matter how hard you try, maybe there just ain’t no getting out.

Time passes. I can’t see me anymore. The mirror has steamed up. With a trembling hand, I turn off the hot tap and turn on the cold. I splash cold water onto my face and wipe my hand across the mirror.

I seem to be stuck inside a timeless warp… No, I know it’s not literally a timeless warp because with the end of each new day comes the realization that I’m maybe running out of time. That maybe I missed something. Or that I was never actually ever in the right place. You start to harbor feelings of hatred, not only towards yourself, but others, and in the midst of it all, your life up till this very moment flashes before your eyes. You start to wonder what the fuck you’re doing here, what you missed, and where it all went wrong…

Destination unknown.

I purchased a small suitcase.
I will not re-new the lease contract on my apartment.
The contents of the suitcase will be the bare minimum essentials for survival. 
Everything else, I’ma give to charity, well; I’ma dump it on their doorstep.
It’s not healthy, being in this shit-hole.
Seeing the same god-damn faces and experiencing the same god-damn drama day in and day out is a health hazard and a negativity that I cannot and will not adhere to any fucking longer!
I don’t have a destination in mind.
I’ma just put this fucking place in my rear view.
I’m taking a chance. I’m setting out on a journey, of which there is no specific destination. I’m looking for something, of which I have no idea what or where it is or even if it can be found.
It’s not healthy that the first thing I do every damn morning is reach over and pour myself some JD or Vodka to wash down the prescription pain killers with, and light a cigarette.
Current location is south-east. So I figure I’ma head north.

To whom it may concern

As a child, you’re not given choices or an option.
You just do as you’re told.
You reach adulthood and then you begin to draw on your own experiences.
You make assumptions relating to the religion and/or way of life or whatever.
Influences in relation to the environment and the company you keep all play an important part in the decisions you make, not just regarding your choices, reference religion; but shapes the outcome and play by play of your life.

I stopped going to church upon the realization of the contradicting and hypocritical embellishments of the so called religious sect. I didn’t renounce my faith.
I figured that all that was required was to be good in the sense of ‘being good.’
I won’t go into detail regarding the reasons for my choices in relation to my understanding etc etc blah blah.
Bottom line is, I haven’t been to church in what seems like eons ago.
I haven’t prayed, ever; outside of the church service, whereby it was a requirement for the congregation to bow their heads and offer a moment of prayer. Even then, with my head bowed and the church filled with utmost silence, my train of thought was along the lines of just how silly it all seemed.

I have for a very long time been a realist and not much else.
I refuse to believe in fate.
The thought that it’s all mapped out, that it’s out of our control literally angers me.
If that be the case, then why even offer the option of choice.
If that be the case, isn’t the assumption on the existence of free will and freedom all but a silly joke?
I post this today because, for the first time in my life, I really prayed.
I need what I prayed for to happen.
It’s my only lifeline.
Prayer, long neglected and bemused upon…
Is now my only hope.

An Age Old Debate

Once upon a time, not so long ago…
I happened across a passionate debate .
I most certainly should have kept my mouth shut when asked my opinion,
or simply taken the side of my crush at the time.
But silly me, and due to practice of Radical Honesty;
commented along the lines of:-
“Money not being of any real significance in relation to Happiness.”

My crush at the time, well;
her rebuttle was somewhat sarcastic along the lines of:-
“…spoken as someone with the means and not the worry of…”

The truth is I only but have the shirt on my back and am without a cent to my name.
Yet I consider myself ‘Happy,’ although I admit:
I am without the knowledge of it’s true definition.
Could I relate to the same definition of ‘Happiness’ as known to me regarding to or in relation to a newly purchased leather interior of a brand new sports car etc…?

Happiness to me has always been in its’ simplest form,
Be it the joyous smiles upon the faces of family members and friends,
or the carefree laughter of children simply playing.

I believe that one needs only to pause a while,
inhale deeply… exhale… and open their eyes, heart and mind;
to see the world in its’ true beauty, pride and glory.

Envision gently running your hands through blades of grass,
the gentle spring drizzle and wind upon your face as you gaze up at the sky.

Envision the warmth of the soft sand beneath your feet at the beach,
the breeze of the wind gently caressing you as you slowly approach the waves.
Surely but slowly, as the waves retreat beneath your feet,
spread your arms to feel the sensation of gliding backwards upon the sands to soar adrift the breeze.

Simple moments like these…
True Happiness.