Things I don't say on Facebook.

sometimes I feel like I'm a old grumpy man stuck on this younger body

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

I believe that the earlier we understand that people don’t care, the freer one gets from the implications of overthinking the opposite.

Nobody cares so do what you gotta.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

the older I get the lonelier I am.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

Sometimes we love more the time we spend in a certain place than the place itself.

So when we eventually visit that place again, we find ourselves in a different time and it’s weird, often, a bad experience. 

“Why if I loved it so much the first time around?”

It doesn’t make sense.

Well, sometimes a place is not just a place, it’s the time we spent on it and whilst we can go back to a place, we have yet to invent time travel. 

So like the old man on a bench said : “don’t go back to that place you loved, you will try to find that time, but the time is gone and you are going to find it. You don’t belong to this place.”

We don’t belong to a certain place just as we don’t belong to a certain time. One is easier to get out of, the other is harder to disconnect from. 

I could say that we, even you, but I get stuck on a time that is not mine anymore.

Talking and living like I’m 28, the age I feel I am. Well, I’m 34 and it’s perhaps a bit late for me to continue to lie to myself about the time where I belong, or the land I belong. 

Christians will tell me my land is not here and yeah, when we talk about our final destination, sure, you are right. What if until then, can I not afford to belong? 

Surely I can’t not belong to a place or a time forever? No? 

Is it to feel alienated, the reason why I was created? 

Or is in this isolation that I find myself, the time and place I meant to be and fighting is to be a foreigner in my own home? 

Oh man… I don’t smoke but sometimes it feels like I just did. 

In England, like I don’t belong. 

In church, like I don’t fit in.

At work, like I don’t matter.

At home, trying to fiddle with all these parts and make it make sense.

In my head, failing at it all.

Place or time, where do I belong?

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

I now understand that the generation before me wanted to do certain things that they simply couldn’t. No time, no training, no chance for it. Now, they have this tool on their hands for it and it feels like freedom. They can finally put their ideas onto something “real”

Now, let’s forget the first environmental impact that AI has.

The issue is that to draw something, you should struggle. To make a song, you learn instruments or rely on people to create something. To make a video, you gotta press record, you gotta edit and re-record.

To make all these things, you gotta suck at all these things to begin with. People don’t want to suck, especially older people. They think their time to “suck at something” is over.

Damn, give me imperfection, give me bad drafts, like K says “give me stretch marks”.

I want the real thing.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

When a person moves away, they stops existing.

“Don’t be a stranger” they say, but that’s exactly what one becomes. 

All of it, normal. Does it help dealing with the fact of what I became? Nope. 

I moved away from people.

Changed country. 

Changed job.

Both of those took a toll on me, the country a bigger fee on my heart. The job? A bigger hit on the pride. 

For awhile, I kept talking and things seemed to be weirdly normal. 

People grow apart when they are apart. Nature. Natural.

So, naturally, the conversations became sparse, in frequency and then in words. 

Then it stopped.

I also stopped.

For me the biggest difference is this: if you didn’t move, for you, nothing changes. One person left, big deal, life goes on. Nature. Natural. 

I was the one that moved away. 

I was the one that took my grassy roots and planted myself on cold and wet terrain. And perhaps, 

I should be the one making a bigger effort. Yet, 

I’m tired to try to be where I am, so I don’t try to be where I’m not. 

I become disconnected. Nature. Natural.

*intermission* Should’ve also prefaced all of it by saying that I’m a hard guy to deal with. Wife knows, mom and dad knows and I believe about 5 more people know this. They are not fooled by the instagram posts. *end of intermission*

Working on a company that gave up on you, makes things harder. Being a father of 3 on a foreign country, even more.

Are those excuses? Well, sometimes I use them as a cloak, however, it’s a fact they exist and impact my life in a big way, especially being a father. 

I suck at being a good father. I am trying, but man, this is hard. Maybe it’s because I refuse to hand a phone to my kid so I can have a moment of peace. I prefer to be there. But

I’m not here for me. How can I be there for them? And

If I’m not there for them, how can I be there for the ones I left beforehand? 

If I’m not there for the ones I love, how can I be there for the ones I once liked? 

So I slowly stop existing for the ones I don’t see. 

Being honest? At work, I stopped existing even for the ones I do see. 

I moved away. 

I moved from the country it was once mine. 

I moved from the job I worked hard to get to.

I stopped existing for those I left behind. Nature. Natural. 

If it wasn’t for social network, I believe I would’ve seized to exist a long time ago.

I left some footprints in the cybernetic world that attracted the people that used to be with me. They saw residues of what I was when I was with them and that’s what brings us together. 

Once I started posting less, you see less of what you liked about me.

Once I started checking it, I see less of what I liked about you. Then we grow apart. Nature. Natural. 

All of this is very logical, right? All of it makes sense to most. Maybe not the part of seizing to exist, that’s how I see it. In my own loneliness, I feel that I slowly become a good memory in the mind of those who once knew me. Somebody they used to know. 

When I moved away, I stopped existing.

So I write. 

Words tend to live longer than expected. For good and for bad. 

I may be fading. 

Your memory of me may fade. Yet

These words will carry some of me and, once read, these will show you who Wes once was. 

Right now, this is who I am. Tomorrow, I believe I’ll be the same. 

This loneliness won’t go away overnight and no matter how many words I write, they will never keep me company, that privilege is reserved for the poet. 

I moved away. 

I moved away from the country I once loved and the job I once liked. 

I forgot and was forgotten. Normal. Nature. Natural. So,

I wrote these words for me to remember how I felt today, how I’ve been feeling for the last few years.

I hope in the future I'm write different words, better words, easier to read words. Easier to write words.

Right now, this is who I am. 

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

Being a dad is hard. Being a good dad is extremely hard.

I’m tired and will be tired for a long time.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

I don’t want to go back to the UK.

Nothing to do with the country. I’ll miss people or the food.

It’s the job that I don’t want to go back to.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

I know this will pass, but I feel like just writing it anyway.

A few days ago it was my birthday and it felt underwhelming. My heart is heavy and sad. Many forgot or just didn’t say anything, my best friend forgot about it and no gifts.

I’m trying to be ok with since that’s life growing older, but it feels heavy inside, like I’m don’t actually matter, invisible to people, meaningless.

I hope I look in a few years and feel different about it. I don’t think the approach on this day will change, so I have to be different.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

From the moment I step foot in my workplace, I feel deflated. Trying to fight this since work is a good thing, but my workplace seems to be an addition of bad planning with incompetence and I’m part of it now.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

It’s hard to edit without a good computer. Takes the fun out of it.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

Everyday feels the same.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

I don’t feel better, I’m just distracted.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

Nobody actually cares about you.

I wrote this a few weeks ago and I still feel this same way.

You feel what you feel, act the way you act and you are whatever you are. You are locked to you.

It’s all inside. It may hurt a lot but it hurts only on you. It hurts everyday, but it only hurts everyday for you.

It’s all in your mind. It’s in my mind all the time and doesn’t let me rest, but it’s in my mind and there it will stay, locked away from the eyes of the ones around me.

Is that normal? I think it may be happening more and more to other people nowadays, result of the world we live in, but I’m not sure it’s normal. Unless people fake it very well and it’s not about faking perfection since that’s easy to spot. It’s in the make up, in the lips, in the ass, in the clothes, that’s easy to spot.

It’s about the faking being just ok. Fake having their shinnzes together. Fake just doing ok. But I don’t know. You tell me.

I feel what I feel. It’s not that I want to be a slave to what I feel and I have been trying not to and yet I keep being dragged into this heavy chain attached to my neck.

“Smile, you be alright”, “look on the brightside”, “things will get better”, “come to work, it may help”, “leave, it may help”, “just act different and that may help” are things that I hear frequently when sharing a bit, only a bit, of the turmoil that goes inside.

I can agree with “act different” and I tried and still am trying, but smiling doesn’t help, doesn’t it make worst either. I can’t look at brightsides, I can’t see it. Things get different, not necessarily better. Work doesn’t help. Leaving work doesn’t help.

I, however, appreciate some of those words in the sense that it shows that some people at least try to care, I doubt it’s deeply sincere since their attitudes speak louder than their words.

We live in a world where time is money so I either make money or I leave so I can make space for some other person to make money. That idea applies to everything. Do I entertain you? Yeah? So it’s worth the read. From the moment I stop entertaining you, writing something you want to read, the size you want it to be, you stop reading. TL;DR

Do I bring something to the relationship? Work, love, friend? If I do, it’s worth having me around, but if I don’t, then it has been a pleasure and thank you, but no, thank you.

Why did I write that?

It’s in my mind. Locked up, so I freed those thoughts and opinions and idiocies.

I can’t focus. Too much inside. Too much that I have to let it out. Too much for anybody to hear. Too much for me to handle.

I guess it’s ok for people not to understand what’s inside if the inside it’s different and different is hard to understand. I’m hard to understand.

This started to be something fairly organised, but it’s not what it is anymore. It’s what’s inside coming out like a tap that someone forgot to close properly and I’m leaking. Maybe I can dent some rocks with it.

I’m also afraid that I won’t feel different. I don’t want to feel like this forever. It frequently goes away and it comes back like a yo-yo, a painful yo-yo that brings frustration every time it get closes to my hand, to my head and it hits harder and darker the more I am.

I’m locked in my head leading me to believe everything I said above is more or less true. I know there’s different, but I just want better.

I just want to have a sweet lemonade.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

I get sad randomly. Sad and frustrated. Hard to hide it.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

I think more and more about suicide.

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

Be selfish or don’t?

Forget or don’t?

Live with it or kill myself?

Learn from it?

[thingsidontsayonfacebook]

I feel lonely. Maybe it’s normal to feel this way. Lonely in the middle of a crowd, in a department, in a family, in a church, on the streets, in my garage.