=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The jaws that bite, the claws that catch ---------------------------------------- We have to, in some way, admire those elusive parts of ourselves. Those certain qualities be they thoughts, emotions, idiosyncrasies, what have you that we have either never reigned under control or have only in the best of times wrestled to the top of. There is something to respect about having piece of your own being that seemingly roams free of its own accord. While I, like most I'll assume, better appreciate the parts of ourselves that we have squarely under control, have a special place for the parts that inhabit us almost with a life of their own. Insecurity is one of those characteristics I caught slew almost entirely in the wild years ago, and have since mounted upon the wall of conquests within my head. It's form has been gutted of flesh and eyes replaced with pupils of glass that seem to follow wherever you go, as if from beyond the grave. That was a beast that appeared upon the near-unpopulated plains of within during the Great Self-Awareness that took place around 10 years of age. How it ravaged the Confidence that had just started roaming those vast, open areas at that age. Confidence didn't know to travel in packs at that time, and would attempt to stake out an area of territory by itself more often than not. This thinking made it easy prey. Insecurity wouldn't just kill it outright, it would play first. It would kill via wounding. Slowly carved, open, uncoagulating wounds that bled and weakened Confidence until it could do little more than lay down in surrender. How I despised both beasts back then. Insecurity for being so strong, so stealthy, and so completely through in its hunt; and Confidence for being so weak, so soft, and so susceptible - the perfect victim. I don't think there has been a battle since that left me so tired and depleted that I could barely marshal the forces to hunt and thus end the slaughter. It wasn't until 15 years had gone by before Insecurity in turn became the hunted, and pushed back into virtual extinction. It of course still exists, as it should. It must remain on the plains, balancing the chain of life within ourselves. It must be allowed to hunt off excess Confidence, lest Confidence blurs the land and overpopulates making us no smarter than population explosion of deer that have no room to move except in front of the passing cars. We let Insecurity continue to hunt to keep ourselves in check. That was one part of my own self that eventually fell under the gun of the Great White Psyche one of many rouge and unwanted parts of ourselves that we all learn to hunt. Be it from guidance, experience, wisdom, or tragedy, we all become keener hunters, and the prey easier to find in our sights. I don't claim to be particularly apt hunter, just a patient one. I also do not claim arrogantly that every part of myself hunted is easy prey. I am no better off in this regard than most. In fact, I have clearly come to face those parts that still live in the wilds of within that will take a great many years to come to terms with. The largest of which is loneliness. There is a great deal of difference between being alone and loneliness. I enjoy being alone. Being Alone was a beast that I domesticated rather that killed outright. It makes excellent companionship when broken properly. It can roam among the native parts of ourselves sleeping, eating, and co-existing without destabilizing the balance we strive so hard to achieve. While despondent and individual, it can still sit quietly at your feet like an old friend. Loneliness is a whole different beast. It is ambiguous, formless, and frightening when you feel it near you. It roams when and where is pleases. Into the Land of Happiness to foul and mark it, and down into the Valleys of Despair where it adds easily to hostile and inhospitable environment. It moves as it pleases, but not predictably nor in a planned manner. Sometimes it plays the myth: moving just out of sight, so that when you try to express it, it's hard to prove that it was there at all. Other times, it wears the clothing of other parts of ourselves. When we think the beast we see is anger, sadness, or loss, it is sometimes Loneliness wearing it's guise sometimes to the point we do not realize the ruse until it has past, or not at all. Then there are the times that in moves right into the center of ourselves, with no announcement and bold disregard for what it treads upon. It sits, stubborn and fearsome, so that any attempt to move it meets with failure, provided you can even summon the courage to make the attempt. It seems to sit perfectly still, but in fact it moves with terrifying speed almost beyond our perception. When Hope or Happiness try to make their rounds, it gobbles them up with the ferocity like that of the Jabberwock and absolutely like Jormungand. While it moves as if it does not want to be seen or caught in the act, it is in fact neither subtle nor ashamed of the act itself, smacking its lips and picking its teeth in plain view. It is a proud beast, and made so in its pride about what it does, and more importantly, by what it is. For all its much-flaunted might and power in can have over me, I do not fear it as I used to. Not because of what it is or what it represents, but because it is not a common beast. It is rare within me, only coming to feed once in the greatest of whiles. It exists more like a shark or lion in our lives: unlikely we will encounter one, but not a mythical creature, nor one to be trifled with. It has my respect because of what it is, and what it can do. I have come to realize that respect is sometimes misappointed given to things we are afraid of or less than, if only to curb the fear of the hold it can have over us Regardless, it nonetheless exists, and be it fear or respect it, I am painfully aware of its uncontrolled presence within myself and my life. I do not wish to hunt it outright, as I am unwilling most days to consciously face it. Yet, I must or at least begin to in some way. I see Loneliness in a possible future as if foretold in prophecy or in vision. I have come to contemplate or consider the possibility that I may come to a point in my life that I will be completely alone. Not that those I know and care about will cease to exist in some way, but they will continue on their way: making new friends and taking lovers so that they themselves will be enabled and prepared to fight of their own Loneliness when it comes. They will seek companionship be it lovers or husbands/wives as if they were arms, and perhaps the best for such a battle. I, as it is beginning to look, may not have availability of such arms at my disposal. As I said, I can content with the pet I have made of Being Alone, and enjoy my time with it considerably. As a result, I am not prone to the situations that would make companionship a possibility. I do not venture into the world often, and when I do, it is not with trepidation and reluctance. I am not impersonal, but I am not quick to new company, nor I am easy to making instant conversation from the spark of an introduction. My existence does not propagate company, let alone companionship. This is not meant to be a declaration, nor is it to be cast in stone. Claims and predictions are what we make, and life is what happens regardless. Anything can happen, and it can happen within the hour, for all intents and purposes. What this all adds up to being is preparation, not prophecy. I will not associate myself with those that wail and lament, "Oh woe as me; no one loves me. I might as well don my blackest garb, play my most somber Pink Floyd, and cry into my wine that no one will live as unloved as I!" Hardly. I face this prospect, so that should it come to pass, it's not some horrible surprise. I'm sure the majority of the families in '62 found little comfort pricing shelters as Russian ships unwilling sat paused off of the Cuban coast, in what was perhaps the coldest October of them all. We do not install smoke alarms to warn about a fire we will have, but as protection against the horrible possibility of one. I think about friendships lapsed, a marriage failed, and relationships lost. I think of the possibility of children that I will never have, and will never be. I think of it all, and realize that indeed Loneliness wears other guises - in this case, those of regret and loss. I realize more as I write that perhaps, at times, it lurks less in woods than it does in the camp. That perhaps, without knowing it, the battle is already upon me. It will not win, and I can say that with almost arrogant confidence, in spite of the doom such claims can bring. Even if the future I call unwelcome does come to pass, it will not be one wrought with pain, living under the shadow of fear of Loneliness. While I may not be able to make obedient beast of Loneliness as I did Being Alone, I will learn to coexist with it. I will be able to walk with yards of it, without flinching or being afraid of it lunging. Life is too singular and invaluable that it cannot be squandered by the fear of it continuing. I write this to vindicate myself, and perhaps vindicate the reader. We are all equally mortal, and both strong and vulnerable at the same time. We often spend far to much time trying to overcome and defeat the parts of ourselves that are so ingrained and integral to our character that we could ever neither succeed in extinguishing, or live without. We try so hard to remove fear and doubt instead of realizing how important they are, and how they act as part of the survival mechanism that keeps us out of harm and danger. Coexistence with the predators that live within is perhaps the best tribute we can build to our own perceived character. While we can lay to waste the bastard offspring like Hate and Insecurity, our own emotional food chain is dependent on their parent feelings and emotions. We must make peace with ourselves. Otherwise, it makes no more sense than trying to smite the ground you stand upon. - Capone =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = = Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = = "subscribe fuck". 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