Insight Into the Human Psyche

Writing

ugh

writing

im writing now

are you happy?

Does this please you?

Fuck you

and fuck you too autocorrect dont capitalize new sentences just cause they’re no sentences

FUCKING NO I DONT WANT TO UPDATE MY COMPUTER NOW will you stop asking please??

where am I?

Im on a bus right now

is this free form

is this art

just pass the time, pass the time with your fingers

dont stop

thats the game, odnt stop and dont let yor fingers top moving

dont go back and delete that sentence and edit

you cant

illegal

sorry

but keeep writing now distract the mind

your phone died so youu cant listen to music so this is the game now

how do you feel jake

to be honest not that well jake

thanks for asking

I feel like a crazy person but this is so much fun to do

not really

I guess it is

see theres your fucking problem jake you keep flip flopping

you have no real strong feelings on it

you cant even tell if youre having fun or not

you should know

thats like, super basic

thats a very necessary human emotion

why do you question so much

why do

oh fuck there you are questioning again

life isnt fucking poetyr jake

uts not art weither

im not even drunk

just committed to the game

where am I?

Im at a crossroads

not metaphorically you fool

im literally in a bus sitting at a cross roads now

theres a verizon and a bank pf america

and a neat place that had a dog on the cover but I could nt read what the sign says

at least I feel productive

this is kind of like pretending to do work

jesus

I mean, thats the worst

knowing that everything is my own faulkt

knowing I could be doing so much better

hey where are you working this summer?

Oh sorry I never turnd in my application

hey where are you living this summer

oh sorry I never turned in my application

hey what happened to your finger

oh sorry I never started my physical therapy so it got damaged permenantly

hey why are you alone right now

oh sorry I stopped talking to a bunch of my friends and now I think they dont like me anymore

why did you stop talking to them

I dont know

they stopped talking to me too

but I allowed the candle to die

ive been given second chance after second chance

and I cointinue to fuck uo

and I continue to write bullshit poetry and complain and talk to discuss it

thats the problem

everything is discussion

I talk I complain I handle everything logically at a distant

I know what my problem is

I’ve known what my problem has been for years

and I continue not to act or to solve it

and thats the fucking problem

oh goodness now im spiraling

you see where this goes

you see what happens when I free my ego

let the ouji board of the keyboard take over

that dumb fucking ghost of the subconcious

where does this come from

are you angry

its not even anger

its not eeven sadness

I think its just being

I think its being a human

I think everyone is this and evetyone has these moments

its not permenant

they never are

I just feel so bad right now

I hate the way I treat people

I hate the way I act in public

I hate the way I treat my family

im ashamed of things I shouldnt even be ashamed abputt

im gay but I dont even know if im capable of love

the only love that I feel is rational

have I ever fwlt it before?

Maybe

definitlye

I doubt it

stop fucking changing your mind, hands

stop typing all this buklshit stream of concious

but its better than being alone with my thoughts

staring out the window in silent selfloathing like I was before

fucking plays, man

thats the onus of all this

I saw a play

and it was so fucking good but now I feel so shitty

it tPped so true into the human condition

it was like watching myself on stage

and I realized that I hate myself

I sqaw so clearly the motivation of eveyr character and still kept my judgments for them

and I was judging myself

and every way I felt about those characters people feel about me

if they even do feel about me

I doubt it

I dont feel about people

im selfish and self involved

those are the same concepts byut I already typed them so I cant delete it

this is getting really depressing

but its cool to see how thought evolves like this

I literally ahvent stopped pressing keys

its been

I dont know how long its been

but its been loike 4 stops on this bus

lyons should be coming up soon

I like lyons

its a good train station

my parents always leave me the car when I come home

and they leave me the good car

so I can charge my phone and play my music

I love to play my music through the car speakers

and sing along

and dance in my seat

its like my own personal concert

and when im alone

truly alone, not like being alone in public like I am now

and im able to love myself

and have fun

its a kind of feeling that I just wish so desperatelky I could emulate with another human being

someone I could truly feel alone with

but I feel their eyes

piercing, judging, predatory

even the people who love me

and the people who I love

fill me with terror

I feel like a meal

like porey, waiting to be devoured by the uncaring hyuman populace

I see it in their eyes

even when its not their

I feel them listening to me

criticizing me

I feel them watching me

hating me

all nthe while never having a thought about me

just living their own lives

not that anyone should have a thought about me

but it drives me crZY

sometimes I cant take it

and I want to crawl into a ball and disappear within the confines of my own self

noises noises noises

even the air is hard to breathe sometimes

it chokes me

and I feel like I cant be me

and I feel like I cant be

and thats also super depressing

I dont know why I keep spiraling

its pathetic

because it seems so obvious that any self loatinhg is a cryu for help

like im some idiot high schooler ouring his irrelevant heart into his journal

and now im different

im grown

and now im some idiot college student pouring his irrelevant into this computer

as if I was better now

as if I could ever ve better

if anything im only getting worse

remember being 6

everyone loved me when I was 6

even if they hated me they had to reconcile that with the fact that I was 6

now I have no excuses

thats the thing

no excuses

the only difference between childhood and adulthood is responsibility

and for some people that difference changes everything about them

and for others they stay exactly the same

and its been raining like crazy, and I think that compounds the current mood

but its really cathartic to type get this out

maybe I should send this to someone

it would be cool for someonw to have this glimpse into me

but to know that this is no indication of my fuller person

and I know that this is just a random branch off of my subconcious that I chose to leap onto

none of this is real

ill wake up tomorrow, read this, be disgusted, be happy, move on

then ill feel shitty

and ill do something loike this again

then ill hate and feel happy

and feel guilt for ever even not being happy

and maybe ill spiral again

but that sounds bad

but its not bad

its pretty good, I think

some people have it way worse

some people think their depression is forever

but just because im always going to be sad doesnt mean im never going to be happy

im happy and sad in equal measures

I think everyone is

come to think about it I think everyone has to be

if when youre ont sad youre happy and when youre not happy youre sad then it kind of balances out

just by concept

that was one sentence

but it took up two lines

thats interesing.

Not really

but im losing it

and im just tapping keys to pass the time

I wish my phone didnt die

I wish a lot of things

this town is cute

im in millingont!

That means lyons is coming up and I can leave you alone

and listen to my music

and party

I have a had ache

I never used to get head aches

but now it seems like I always have a headache

like not a bad one

but constant

and I always feel like im just a couple of inches off from myself

and a dull pain ringing slowly, bothering me only slightly throughout the day

maybe its a cafeine thing

maybe its a sleep thing

maybe its a result of living the lifestlye that I live

but I always come up eith one excuse

and I spend the rest of that day following it

oh its just a caffeine thing, let me get some coffee

let me just go to bed

itll be gone in the morning

it usually isnt

but its nice to hope

and evey day I feel closer

even if im not

I feel like im builidng myself

like im imcomplete

but I feel like one of those shapes on the graph from high school math that approaches the axis but

never reaches it

it had something to do with the word Asymptote

I dont know what that word means any more

holy shit I forgot all my math

thats weird

thats so weird to me

I used to be like, the smart guy

that was my thing, being smart

I knew math and science and all that shit

and I based my personality around being nerdy and “intelligent”

and now im not

im kind of an idiot

what have I done with my life?

Its a pretty good life though

if I do say so myself

ive done a lot of cool shit

but life is more than a connect the dots of cool shit youve done

and I think thats a lesson everyone needs to learn

and I feel lucky for having learned it now

im here now

im at the station

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Gate E34

The time is 9:47am. Gate E34. There is a young man wearing red headphones and an elderly lady hugging her legs to her chest. My head is throbbing and my eyelids are getting increasingly heavy. I am wearing my collared khaki blouse with my mother’s black cardigan. A man in a white shirt and black tie looks out the window as if looking into another world. A door shuts, a phone rings. The airport is filled with endless chatter. We’re all here for the same thing. To go somewhere else. Somewhere far away. We wear our own shoes, but put on a stranger’s face. No one can see you here. We already passed security. They took our faces away to protect the american way of life. To ensure that we are each our own threats to tall buildings and low skies. Sometimes they even fear themselves. Wondering how anyone could trust them with their identities. Identities and faces floating in the clouds. An invisible man takes us away from whatever it is we’re running from. I woke up far too early to maintain an open mind. But I keep it open anyhow. To put myself on a jet plane. To fly away with everyone else. All the other faces. Some closed, some empty, broken, cold. There’s a tunnel for people like us. It wont take us into our mechanical bird, but an eternal sky.

Sitting on a Night Bus From Summit to Lyons

Night unfurls its silent shroud
Nearer now to journey’s terminus
To sit, reflect and contemplate our quiet lives
Tossed aimlessly, tumbling through
A moment
Minute, infinitesimal
Pressed against an ever-widening canvas
Boisterous and bold
Bellowing outwards to the void
Light struggles listlessly to be seen
Pooling
Islands in a sea of black
Barren, crying out for contact
But gentle soft and sweet
Quiet and lonely yet beautiful
Hidden away
Waiting
They belong to you and you alone
Unseen and unheard by those too busy or too fast to wait
Night lives with you together
Alone but always sympathetic
Your dreams
Your life
Your quiet desperations
Drift further through the night
Carried on silent winds

A Piece in June

“its about chances. changes. its about screwing up and doing the same thing a thousand times until it kills us. its about finding something that is so undoubtedly a terrible idea, and doing it just to figure out if it was a terrible idea. its miserable and twisted but its ours. and its all we have to share.”

i want there to be flowers

i want there to be flowers in my hair and grass between my toes. i want trees to encompass everything i am, and embrace me. i want the first frost of winter to come towards me as a whisper, as a song. i want it to touch me. i want the words in books to leap off their pages. i want the ideas in my head to come out of hiding. i want to be seen. i want peach colored roses on my doorstep. i want my name written in a text book. i want the sunset and the sunrise to meet eachother and find the end of the earth with their lips. i want little eyes to look up to me and wonder. wonder about all the wonders of the world. i want to be a mother, to braid her hair and sing her to sleep. i want to put her artwork up on the fridge like her own personal gallery. she’ll be famous, i’ll say. i’ll teach her to dream. to always hope for the flowers. to always swim to the shoreline. to always gasp for breath at the sight of everywhere. i want there to be roses. roses in the place of tears when i die. i want her to smile. i want the world to look at her and wonder, wonder what her mother was like. i want a place among the trees. to be a voice among the leaves. i want to be heard. to be felt between your toes, to grow against your legs, to wrap you in my song. i want to live among the wildflowers. i want you to pick me up and take me home. i want to be the wind in your hair. the breath in your lungs. the love on your lips when you kiss your baby girl goodnight. i want there to be flowers. 

“…an empty soul”

i’m terribly hot, alone, i have eaten way too much fast food, i read the 543 paged book i never read for my english class in about an hour, i still have yet to write the essay upon which my salvation depends, i feel the desire to write and sleep and complain, contemplate the meaning of life as we know it, recall the recent memory of deceased strangers and analyze it until i have figured out where we go when we die. My priorities in life are severely out of order as i sit here alone in my bed with a pretty face and an empty soul.

Ten Dozen Chances

Sometimes I wish I would get struck by lightening. To leave myself behind. Sending me spiraling, drowning in electricity. A timeless misery. Power in my viens, a story to feed my soul. Giving me a reason to stay awake. I wont go outside tonight. Invincible intuition creeping out the separation. We’ll all be in shock. Locks on our mouths to prevent a person proud. Ten dozen chances, lining up at the door, by the long metal pole at the end of the hall. Waiting for you to carry yourself away and fall. A rainstorm and a rally, a risky rancid reprise. hiding in your left mind. See, I saved you this time.

not enough

I don’t have enough money in my pockets, I don’t say enough, preach enough, I don’t work hard enough, I’m barely tall enough, barely strong enough. I don’t pray enough, eat enough. I don’t do enough homework, try enough. I don’t laugh enough, sleep enough. I’m not courageous enough, I don’t care enough. NOT important enough. I’m not emotional enough, social enough. And even though I try, nothing will ever be

good enough.

A Tumultuous Mind

Most days are rainy. the city lights are infinite, revealing the stains on your clothes, the dirt on your hands, and the smoke in your breath. The fog doesn’t help much, forming whirlpools of regret like an ominous cloud. You’re taking a walk through central park like you do everyday. You’re searching for who you’re supposed to be. You think you might be miserable. So you take in the fresh air and exhale slowly, just to be sure. Remind yourself you’re still there. It’s merciless and cold. You feel like screaming at nothing, because nothing’s there. Or rather no one. You keep walking, your steps in perfect rhythem with your turmultuous mind.