Mr. Perfect

Mr. Perfect

What is it that makes things so hard, where does it come from, why is it tormenting me so? Why is Mr. Perfect so destructive?  Why do I expect to be beyond perfect in anything I do? And why is it that when I do not reach said unachievable goals I end up beating myself up about it?

Just as an example, I write, I love it, but anything less than perfect is… worthless. It seems to me that when I express myself on this silent medium I should be evocative, informative, imaginative and inspiring at the same time. That my words touch and educate, awaken lingering good in people and have them aspire greatness in themselves. All things I do not attribute to myself, because my words, to me, have not the same desired effect. I am not the way my Mr. Perfect wants me, nay demands me to be.

My history dictates a string of failures that I can recite without any thought, they replay in my mind, the examples of Mr. Perfect reminding me I am not. Happiness seemingly a fading whimper, drowned in the thundering silence of my loneliness. I am not good enough, thus I should not be, I should not infect or inflict my negative impact on the world. I feel pain, I deserve it, every ounce I can gather is one more I can take away with me and hide it from the world. In my own twisted way I try to improve the world, but this dark vortex also drags others down with me, so I do not want people to get close, as all I can give is pain and disappointment.

These are the things Mr. Perfect tells me every second of my waking life, and during the night, it tells me of my failings of the past, haunting memories and fading hopes, which should fade as I have no need for them, nor am I entitled to them. It stops me from actually doing what I should be doing, makes me passive, unsure.

I hate Mr. Perfect, even though I realise he’s only trying to help me and this hatred only makes him more profound, more aggressive and dominating. Yelling harder and harder the more I try to refuse to listen. Sometimes it spirals out of control, sometimes it ebbs away, but it is a strong voice, a strong trait I feel within. And it is my failure at life for not being able to cope with or control.

One of those

One of those

Today I woke up late, a dark lingering in my mind, my heart feeling heavy and numb and I have pangs of hunger and dehydration of the alcohol I consumed last night. In the distance I still hear my headset scream out music and I notice myself drifting back into the known void of my abyss. I eye around my room and take in the loneliness. I let my head fall back onto the pillows and I drift off in thoughts, worries and the urge to plunge a knife in my chest. I do not want to get up, but I had better. I have things to do, I need food, new lenses and I have some work related things to take care of, but it feels to me like I will unlikely be able to climb that hill of actually going outside again.

My phone blinks, it is low in battery and I see I have new messages. I skim read them without actually being online so I can get the gist of them and not display my presence. It seems mom is a bit worried about me, and the voicemail of the other day clearly made me hear the worry in my fathers voice as well. I am such a failure. With effort I manage to stumble out of bed, splash some water over my face and look at myself in the mirror, dark cold eyes look back at me. It is going to be one of these days again. And I sigh.

 

-Update-

After a short time I could not help myself and I set up a playlist of music, in a vein attempt to drown out the thoughts with sound. Sometimes it helps, just not very well today. I find myself surfing from one random page to another and I force myself to forget to eat, there is little in terms of food anyway and I am in no condition to go outside. A deep dark mood hovers around me, poisoning everything I touch or observe. I am still thirsty though, so I make some coffee, which also stops me from feeling very hungry as I have something to digest. I am back at being a hermit, back at where I did not want to start from. Smiling seems like a distant past, one I can but vaguely recall.

I jolt awake from a slumber I did not know I entered and am confused for a few moments, nightmares… Oh well, at least it is a good preparation for my upcoming night shifts.I needed more sleep anyway. I boot up a game and start trying to numb my thoughts by keeping them preoccupied with other things, giving my brain a simple task, keeping it from overflowing my system with the venomous words and ideas I have so little defence against. Then all of a sudden my heart drops, the doorbell. NO! Not now, not like this, why… no, I am such a waste, I cannot even get myself up from my chair to see who it is. Another ring, No no, please, go away. I am not worthy of your attention, nor your love or care. I stare blankly at the screen and let the game and music pass through me completely, I must have sat there stunned for a good half an hour…

I was right, I was unable to go out today, I was unable to even connect with anyone or anything. I was even not able to eat anything substantial, or get myself to look for anything at all. Around midnight, however, I reply to my brother and my mom, stating I am doing okayish, considering, but I know this to be a cold hard lie. I am not doing well, I am lost, I am numb. I make an excuse for not answering the door, that it was due to me being asleep in preparation for the night shifts. I spent most of the night drowning myself in another game, talked actually to people, but from behind a mask. One slim part of me I want to propagate, probably the only thing I want to share with the world. It is my kind and patient me. Feeling a bit better because of it and very tired I go to sleep. Today was not a good day, but at least it ended on somewhat of a positive note.

Do you see me?

Do you see me?
When we play a game,
when you talk.
As the weather changes
and when we walk.

Do you see me,
or merely what I represent to you?
Will it even matter,
whatever I choose to do?

When we share,
when I hold your hand.
Give you a shoulder,
help you to stand.

Do you see me,
or merely what I represent to you?
Is anything ever good enough,
will you remember who?

When I give my heart,
when I open up about me.
Talk for the first time,
will you then finally see?

A day in the past

A day in the past

It was a rather sunny morning, I got up early as I normally did, having had a great dream about playing football and winning a cup of some sorts. The red bright numbers on my alarm clock said a welcoming 7:45. It was Saturday, and I was going to go and have an adventure today. We were going to the beach with a few friends, so I had packed a bag with a large towel, my walk-man and some tapes of my favourite music, some money and snacks. I remember smiling at the cat playing with the handles of my bag while I at my breakfast and told my parents about all the things I was going to do. Their eyes kind, but thinking about something else clearly. I cared little for it at the time as this was going to be a great day.

The sand was warm after a small trek by bike of about half an hour. We were with the four of us and one of my friends brought a ball, it wasn’t long before we were chasing it, and each other, up and down the beach, often also venturing into the water. It was a great day, the water was cool, but not too cold, we laughed and had fun and we bought ice-cream. There were but a few small clouds dotted along the otherwise blue sky and boats were slowly moving along the river, there was hardly any wind and the smell of sun lotion was lingering everywhere we went. I remember it well.

We then decided that we should head out into the local camp site as there was an entertainment hall, the so called ‘fun house’. There were arcades there and we all had some money saved up by sharing our money on the ice and snacks we all brought. We played airhockey and some mortal kombat, when I was addressed by a girl I knew to be several years my senior, but she did not seem to notice. We talked a bit, but because there was a bit of a language barrier it was a bit hard to really talk, so we kept it to the ‘Hi, how are you and where are you from?

I remember her eyes quickly glancing at mine as she thought I was not looking and turning a bit red when I looked back, I knew not what this meant or what it was, but there was some sort of a connection I could feel. She smiled a lot as well and nodded a lot as she tried to understand what I said. My friends were busy playing some more mortal kombat and I was asked to join her as she had another game she wanted to play, just with me. I nodded and looked back at the three friends still engulfed in their match-up. They never saw me leave.

We walked for a while and about halfway she gently took my hand, her palms were a bit sweaty and her pupils were larger than before. This I found odd at the time, but knew not what to say or ask about it. When we arrived at their holiday home she pulled me with her into the back, as if she did not want to be seen. She muttered a few words that I could not understand at the time, but now still echo in my memories. ‘I like you, I care not what my parents think, want to do something special with me?‘ She then quickly planted her lips on mine without waiting for an answer and pushed me slowly backwards onto the bed, which I can only assume was hers as it was a single. Clumsily I fell backwards and made her giggle, but I felt dazed, not sure what to do or what to expect. In an instant she pulled her shirt over her head and her half long auburn hair playfully bounced around her beaming face, her grin was intoxicating. She cuddled up to me again and kept kissing, not giving me a moment to really understand what was going on. I have had some girlfriends before and had kissed them as well, but this felt different… This was more intense, more aggressive in a way.

The next hour and a half felt like an eternity, she undressed herself and me. I was touched in a way I never experienced before and my body reacted like it was supposed to, biologically speaking. Her breathing got heavier and she was obviously a bit nervous as she pushed me back onto the bed and started to straddle me. A small yelp escaped her as we interlinked and she had her way with me… I had no idea what was going on, no idea what to do or expect… I was twelve, I could not know. Slowly I began to feel this was not right and asked her to stop, asked her to let me go, but she either did not understand me or did not want to, so I tried to move away. She smiled at this and probably thought I was playing with her and she playfully put a finger to my lips in order to calm me down a bit. She grabbed my wrists and softly laid em over my head on the pillow near the headboard. She then swiftly grabbed a belt and wrapped it around my wrists and the steel bar of the bed and held it in one hand keeping in tight enough for me not to be able to wriggle loose.

She then continued to grind, enjoying herself and I felt more and more helpless, more and more a feeling of dread overcame me, even though my body acted on it’s own behalf. By the time she was nearly done with me I felt a tear running down my face, grazing my ear and I started shuddering, feeling cold and wrong. She did not relent, however, and began to get a bit angry at me. She did smile as I convulsed as I came, clearly happy with her efforts and she dismounted me while grabbing a towel from the drawers next to the bed. ‘Your first time?‘ She asked, but I did not know what or how to respond. ‘Don’t worry, it was good.‘ she called out from the bathroom as the shower started to pour warm water onto her sweaty body and steam filled the small bathroom. I was thrown a hand towel as well and ordered to clean myself up. After the short shower I quickly got dressed and felt my heart tense up every time I made eye contact with her. I could not really utter a word any more and nodded as she told me that her parents could get home any time soon and they were going to have dinner. I did not get much of it at the time, but I recalled this afternoon many times since then. I walked out with her behind me, she turned me around gave me a kiss and a wink while she held a finger to her lips making sure I kept this quiet. I nodded weakly and she turned back inside and closed the door behind her.

What just happened? How… I… No, this is not real. What?!?‘ I asked myself as I walked in a daze back to my bike, hoping to see my friends still at the arcade machine. Sadly they were gone already, or maybe it was better this way… I rode home and felt an overwhelming need to cry like I had never felt before. I drove to a quiet wooded area and sat down and cried until my head hurt, my hands and knees stopped trembling and I physically could not produce any more tears. Emotions flushed through my system, left and right, sadness, confusion, fear, anger, and I am very ashamed to say I also felt somewhat pride, I also felt happiness. A thought that chills me to the bone even now.

As I tried to make myself a bit more presentable and went home the thought of the girl ushering me to keep quiet gained ground, the pressure my parents had at home was straining enough on them as it was. And I would probably be in a lot of trouble for what I did. I decided to keep it to myself, not wanting to burden my family with something that was rather natural, even if it made me feel incredibly dirty and violated. These statements were not the ones I would have used back then, this is me reflecting on my feelings then. When I came home I was not hungry and said I was rather tired, so I went to bed and I faked being sick for the next three days. But there was this feeling I could not shake, it replayed over and over in my dreams, sometimes it still does. It made me fearful and angry, made me feel outside of the norm. Even more than I already did.

A first step

A first step

Every step that I take is another mistake to me

It is hard waking up after another short night. Dark thoughts fill my heart and soul and I have the urge to lunge at them, claw at them, trying to get them out of me. It makes me angry, it makes me sad, it makes me quiet and wanting to stay alone, forgotten and abandoned. This is what I feel I deserve, this is what I feel is right for me as I have failed in every aspect of my life, save the growing older part. The longing for eternal peace claws always at my thoughts, lingering in the back of my mind, waiting for a sign of weakness, ready to take control once again.

But then I have to stop and think who I really am. I am a man halfway through his 30’s, have somewhat steady work now which should pick up soon and I have a loving family in my brother and my parents. My childhood had some darker moments, but we all have those, but aside from that, I have had a happy childhood for the most part.

Somehow somewhere along the line I have begun building walls, burning bridges and all the other cliché statements you can think of. I have started to twist the truth, bend the perception of others away from my growing unease about myself and my self image. There are things that have made it a survival tool for those years and I may not have gotten through if I had not found these skills of deflecting and misleading. In short, I am a very capable liar, so much so that it is hard to determine when I actually speak the truth. Heck you may even think that everything here is a work of fiction, which in a way it is as I have a hard time not shifting the events away from me, or rather sometimes strongly towards me.

In parties and large gatherings I am usually the quiet one, standing around the edges of the circles, listening, nodding, sometimes brave enough to make a few statements, or small bits of input. I do not get into fights, as I actively try to avoid those, not because I do not want to be hurt, rather not wanting to hurt others. I fear nothing, well that is not true, as I am deathly afraid of what I can do to others, I fear myself. Sometimes I fear getting hurt as it would make me a burden to those around me. If I am more comfortable I tend to speak up more and be generally pleasant to be around, or so I have been told. And it is easier to put up a show for people I do not know so very well, nor who know me.

My standards for my own achievements and actions are sky high and I will never be able to reach anything even remotely close to them, so I curse and lash out at myself internally at everything I do. I am depressed, sad, lonely and I feel misunderstood in almost everything. I sadly am smart enough to know all these things, to learn and adapt new and innovative ways of getting better at destroying myself from the inside out. I sometimes feel like a walking time bomb, waiting for it to go off, taking out all that which I hold dear. This means more walls, more hiding, more stage plays and avoiding detection.

I have become numb to some of the pain, I have stopped caring about my aches and made myself believe I am not worthy of any sort of effort from anyone. I never ask for help, not because it is beneath me, which in itself plays some part in it as well, but because I need to be able to walk and stand on my own, carry my own weight and help those around me. I need to carry the pain of everyone around me, so that they may go on unhindered. And what I hate most of all… is that it seems to me that this is just a cry of desperation ‘look at me being a sad sap

I kinda hate myself for what I do and do not do, to myself, to others, to everyone. Sometimes it is hard to describe what makes you hold on, what makes you cling. For me it is rather simple, ‘As long as I suffer in silence, I am not a burden to others, I do not cause them pain, I do not cause them grief. If I stay alone it is better, I only bring misery in the end.‘ Now I know I am capable of loving, I am capable of living for someone or something else, just not for myself it seems. And due to this I fear I will stay alone until the end, not realising my greatest dream of being a father, not holding new life in my arms and cherishing it more than the world, waking up next to the love of my life and falling asleep in a loving embrace, with a silent ‘I love you‘ lingering on my lips.

In short I think that sums me up at this point and time, I have not mentioned a fair few details, but I will likely want to remain rather anonymous. This, for me, will be a repository of my days, present and past. My thoughts, dreams and hopes and all the darkness that envelops them.