"We don't see the world with our eyes. Our eyes merely let us look at the world. We see the world with our hearts."
Time. Time has always had the burden of being blamed, with being the single reason we grow old and die. “He died because time caught up with him.”. It’s not time though. Time is a man made invention, to make sense of the changing seasons, the cycles of the sun and moon, and the moments between the creation of memories, good and bad. We grow old, grow feeble, and we die, because of our innate ability to collect demons, as we live.
As children we have no demons, we haven’t lived. We have boundless energy. We have blind hope, and faith. Then we collect our very first demon. It is small, and seemingly nothing. A demon with the name mistake, or regret, or shame. It may be small. It may be meaningless. It may not even be remembered. That first demon though, he is the herald of all future demons, he is the builder of the foundation that all future demons will build upon.
Then we grow up more, that first demon edging us towards our teenage years, trailing us through our twenties. That is when that first demon, is no longer alone. He is joined by many more demons. Some are as small as he is. While others, are larger, are unforgettable, are even sometimes ones that have the power to shift our lives in a whole new direction, a direction we may never have wanted to travel. Each new demon, a new burden, one that we carry with us always, even when the act that spawned the demon is no longer a memory we think of, the demon is still there.
Some of these demons come in to existence through an inadvertent action, something that to those outside the situation, might not seem like anything of any importance. Other demons are born through an act of improper defiance, fed by a feeling of a need to do something, when our minds and hearts scream at us not to. However they come in to being, they are there forever now. However they come in to our lives, their mission has begun as soon as they are with us. However small or large they are, they have the same effect on us.
They drain us, of hope, of dreams, of energy, of life. Of that spark that ignites our will to take a chance on something new, something exciting, something that may just end badly for us, but will be worth trying just once. With all they drain from us, they leave us with nothing. Our bodies shrivel, our minds fracture, our hearts weaken, our souls become stained. While we become what is known as old. More and more demons descending upon us. Joining their brothers and sisters who are already with us. With each new demon, the draining speeds up, becoming more and more intense.
The fraility of our bodies slowing us down, so even if we could outrun them, and wanted to, it’s too late. The damage to our minds stopping us seeing as much of the good as we used to, leaving our world grey. The strain to our hearts, no longer allowing us the ability to love as we did when we were younger, with carefree abandonment, and a devil-may-care attitude to the consequences. With our souls now stained, we are no longer beings of good and innocence, we’ve all down some bad, on purpose or by accident, and deep down we all know we are not good people.
That is when it all drains beyond the point-of-no-return, and our bodies, our minds, our hearts, and our souls give up. We die. While our demons, finally leave us, and move on. To once again feed.
It’s started to annoy me, when people exclaim things along the lines of “the world would be a better place if everyone told the truth.”. Really? You think the world would be in a better state, if instead of answering “I don’t know.”, or recycling something you overheard about a topic similar, when asked by a friend what you thought about the current discussion, we instead told the truth? Do you really think your friends want you to look up at them, and say: “I genuinely don’t care. I am just sitting here smilling, not because of this conversation, but because I’m thinking about something I read in an article this morning, that amused me. What you’re talking about is dumb, and boring, and I am drinking this drink faster than I normally would, just so I can excuse myself to go to the bar, so I can escape.”.Yeah, that’d be a better world for everyone, wouldn’t it?
With a crowd, always seperate, even when with friends,
feeling like a third, a fifth, a seventh wheel,
a fake smile, and the occasional glance, just to hide it,
they all don’t notice, why would they at all?
May as well be a shadow, a ghost, an observing spectre,
their happiness drains all potential, for a real smile, to grace my lips,
seeing their love, their contented look, their relaxed stance,
while I sit, loneliness, and depression, my only companions.
Gaining, each day, a masterful skill in deception,
masking true emotions, with plastered on falsehoods,
learning to lie as an automated response to the loaded question,
"Are you okay?"
Being alone, unloved, a curse that is shared by so many,
a curse of mass depression, socially triggered daily,
something almost everyone has first hand experience with,
then why, when so common, does it create feelings of such loneliness?
Everyone has to take a turn as an echo,
a silhouette of the person they could be, that they truly are,
the person hidden, till found by anothers embrace,
the one who forgets that Watching Hurts.
Here’s a raised glass.
I truly pray for you all.
Learn from all my mistakes, and help them guide you to a modicum of peace.
Don’t fake a smile when you’re sad, don’t pretend you still love someone long after the love has gone, and don’t be anyone other than who you are just to be liked.
The best memories come from the good times, the most unfaltering strength comes from the bad, and life experience comes from everything else that is in between.
Denial does nothing, but leave you in a shadowed world, filled with the echoes of past mistakes and failures. Acceptance is the hand reaching out from above the ledge, to lift you back up in to the world, and give you something to lean on, to take the first few steps again.
The past cannot be changed, not for love, or money, it is steady and stalwart, unshaking, unbending, while the future, your future, is clay not yet molded, waiting for the guiding hands.
Okay, should probably explain. Someone once told me it’s cathartic to write your own eulogy, a way too get across possible feelings that you have no other way of expressing, or you feel you have no other ways of expressing. Also it’s a good window to how you think the world sees you, and what sort of effect you have had on the world around you. Also, just watched “Serendipity”, which reminded me of what I had been told once about Eulogies. So, figured I had nothing to lose, and recently I have had a lot of stuff, about myself, that I’ve wanted to get off my chest. So here goes.
Eulogy for Cameron Michael Smith
Written by Cameron Michael Smith
"Cameron Michael Smith, a man forever searching for a job, however, sadly almost constantly unemployed, died early this morning, mere days before his 25th birthday, from a severe case of loneliness. Contemplative, rarely truly understood by family and friends, still waiting, as he had all his life, for something he couldn’t explain, or even understood what that ‘something’ was going to be. Always filled with a fear at the back of his mind, that perhaps it had come and gone, and he had missed it, distracted by any number of the meaningless things he filled his days with. His last days on this earth were pretty uneventful, by almost anyone’s standards, but for him it was just more days melding together, to culminate in to nothing, as all the ones before had done. Ever the optimist when it came to matters of the heart, it had been said before about Cameron, by someone who knew him better than most, that he wore his heart on his sleeve, and fell in love quicker than most people could take a breath. Perhaps that was true, perhaps it just seemed that way, as he was a very affectionate person. Whichever the case, Cameron had never had a proper relationship before he died, whether it was because the situation never presented itself, or because he was afraid of the darker side of his psyche hurting someone he was truly close with, we will never know now. Constantly feeling like he was an unstoppable force, surrounded by a world filled with immovable objects, Cameron was always filled with an unexplainable energy, and twisted intelligence, that he had no real release for himself. Always the face in the background of photos, and never the focus of the one with the camera. When asked about his death, most of the people in Cameron’s life responded with a variant of: “Oh he’s dead? I didn’t notice.”. In the end of it all, Cameron was still true to himself, even if he himself didn’t understand the entirety of his own mind, soul, or psyche. A shadow in a world full of light. Cameron had no impact on the world around him. Not so much missed, as he will be forgotten.”