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Sometimes I want to toot my own horn.Ā Toot toot toot.Ā Fireworks go off. Blue eagles dip in at Mach 3 like itās the Fourth of July. For a moment, I feel like the main character in a movie only I can see.
But then I rememberāIām human. And it all settles down.
These shifts in energy? They could be signs of ADHD. Or maybe Iām just losing my mind in a Carl Jungian fashion, spiraling into the shadow self, dancing with archetypes and ghosts of who I used to be. Memories creep in like smoke under a door, reminding me why I am the way I am.
An old, stubborn rat bastard who somehow survived years of constant ass-whoopings from life.
I assume most of us go through it. The beatdowns. The heartbreaks. The moments where you stare at the ceiling and wonder if youāre still real. It either breaks you or makes you. For me? I took the self-punishment route. I didnāt cry outāI hid in the shadows and let the pain linger. Just long enough to hear the sizzling of my conscious being burnt to a crisp.
But now that Iām older, something strange happens.
I get these sudden energy spikes. My mind goes 10,000 thoughts per second. I live lifetimes that donāt existāparallel to this real one. Iām a warrior, a poet, a madman, a rat bastard, a ghost, a god, a loser, a legendāall in the span of a few seconds. And then Iām back. Sitting in my chair. Typing this out. Wondering if anyone else feels this way.
Maybe you do. Maybe you donāt. But if youāve ever felt like your brain is a fireworks show with no off switch, just knowāyouāre not alone.
Weāre all just trying to make sense of the noise.
Iāve learned to let some ideas and possibilities lay waste. Not because they werenāt good. Not because they didnāt deserve a shot. But because I just donāt have the time or energy to visit all of them.
Different jobs. Different changes. Lifestyles. Choices. Everything and anything. But most of them? Shut down. Not out of fearāout of exhaustion.
Sometimes Iām tired of being tired. So tired that I want to be tired of the bullshit. But then I get tired from that too.
Whereās the emotional release from living a life that only gives you little snippets of happiness here and there, while a whole lot ofĀ shitĀ trickles down every time you look up at the rain clouds? You choke on self-doubt. You wonder if it started at the beginning. Maybe it did.
But do I really want to go back and relive it all just to figure it out?
Maybe it all started because I wanted something from life and never got it. Something simple. A basketball. A Nintendo set. I can buy a few nowābut back then, I couldnāt.
And maybe thatās the real tragedy of youth. Not innocence. Not naivety. ButĀ incapability. Being young means being unable to reach your potential or your path to happiness because youāre forced to rely on somethingāor someoneāelse.
And when that something fails you, it leaves a mark.
Or maybe I should revisit that haunted houseāthe one inside my headāand go out in living colors like Jung did. Write about it here. Let the world see it. I already broke the barrier of being shy. Iāve released my truths into the ether. I canāt be shy now. I canāt be afraid.
And the truth isāIĀ didĀ revisit it.
I went full shadow work. And it was shitty as hell. Ugly. Brutal. Honest.
Yet here I am. Still making the same mistakes. Running the same patterns. Stuck with the same blueprint.
Maybe itās time to sayĀ fuck thatĀ and move on without looking back. Let the inner child drown in the flood of reality. Let him go. Because I will survive.
