Reflecting on this mad weird life I’ve lived

Reflecting on my life

I have won it all. I have lost most everything (including my mind). I have bought friendship, love, affection, but probably not won the admiration of any. What I have gained through experience has only furthered my resolve towards what others would, should and/or shall ever care about. I have found it always difficult being surrounded by people that I have no capability to reason for why they enrapture their lives around trivialities. Forever a follower, a rebel without a cause, an indignant heathen that would rather live in virtue (and sometimes become a libertine) than surrender under God’s will. Here is the of the end of online poker story.

The day is April 15, 2011. Encumbered and embattled in a relationship that still to this day I do not wish to tell, the US Department of Justice struck away the last piece of passion I had left for this world. Embroiled in her lust to see my monetary functions still being able to further her decaying decrepit soul, I followed her reasoning. The reason that I had to pay some bills no collector would ever consider before leaving off to Canada. She told me she loved me, yet love under what guise other than her own ambition to peculate me to death, I have yet to reason.

I told her I loved her. And maybe I did, and maybe I did not. At times I felt a yearning to be around her more. At other times I just wanted to be left alone to figure out what I really wanted. That last part never seemed to matter to her though. Hours upon hours of her telling the same stories ad nausea em. I loved her because she acted just like my bipolar mother. Birds from a feather flock together, at least that’s what my father told me.

It left me in a fragile state of mind (yet, she never forgot a word I said). Was this the lust for her body or love be stricken by the hatred at what could only be called the early signs of dementia? I still do not know. Somewhere in there I loved her being, but still years later I hate her for making me love her. Yet, I still masturbate to those tender moments we shared.

Near the end of the relationship, after another frivolous argument that to any rationale being (I believe) would only surmise I was in the right, I told her, “You love me in the bedroom, yet hate me everywhere else.” I remember her response of silence very vividly.

Yet, there I still remain in Manhattan for another few months. My bank account dwindling for she was incapable of making any money. A person that told me she loves me, yet all the while she was still not caring about my own well being every time, everyday, every meal we would order delivery to her small apartment. One time I misspoke in a manner befitting a male when I said, could you not order that entree? It was not that she could not order the entree that I cared about (like she would get fat), it was that she eats like a tortoise. In the end, I know her three course meal would only be left for the cold the next. Why a person orders delivery when they only want to eat it cold, I still have no reasoning ability to understand.

I, myself, was ready to depart to a land I had not lived in before. I ordered the new computer plus monitor I needed. That part I had done before. Pack up whatever belongings I sought to keep, forget all the responsibilities as I view them in my rear-view mirror and a start a new beginning.

And the most unlikely of culprits was the one that finally brought about the change. Shit. Literally, detritus of the human stomach shot out of my apartment that I spent so little time in. The construction crews screwed up some line somewhere, and when the monsoon of rain came pouring one day, that shit had no where to go but shoot out in my crappy 96^th and 2^nd apartment basement level. I also had many of my belongings down there, all but ruined. In reflection, it was probably the best thing that could have happened.

The road less traveled is perhaps a virtuous one, you know the antonym of karma. What comes around goes around is only what a fool thinks. What comes through means of being kind, one remains in benefit.