I reflect on my life and all I am left with is a brutality of horrible visions and events. It feels like I’ve been living with the devil. It has been a struggle. A struggle to sleep, a struggle to eat, a struggle to live. Something has dealt so much pain over the years.
Everything is fine now but that can change in an instant. Every time I tell myself that it’s over, it just starts back up again. I wonder a lot. I wonder why it’s happening. I wonder if wondering is apathy, or perhaps worse. Life is unfair. Almost like I’m talking to God. Call it what you want. The problem is that there no reason for it. My suffering is an injustice, if anyone were to ever see it, they would pray to God. I wrote a poem while I was in the midst of a behemoth event. Here’s a small part of it.
A man his whole life has himself stuck on a string,
I feel a little spider crawl across my skin,
My little spider, this fear is not the same thing,
Do you feel enough pain to feel him
I think about all that I have suffered and how relentless the prior experiences have been, there is no rest or sympathy, these forces do not relent. They’ve been such a huge distraction in my life. They’re the one thing I’ve grown to fear over time. The gripe I have with the entire catastrophe is that there is no reason, no lesson.
I’ve spent so long trying to achieve something in music. I’m looking at it all realizing that it was probably the only thing that kept my head on my shoulders all those years, not the music itself but the up-and-coming just hold on mothers’ spaghetti rapper survival framework. There’s got to be a reason; why not have the reason be envy. A green alien on an intergalactic space station on the other side of the moon plotting the demise of my artwork.
Regardless, it’s a serious problem. I’m worried about the future. The main thing that keeps me going is it won’t be like this in the future; this is what keeps me moving forward. It ends.
