Skip to main content

Lonely

Yes, I feel lonely sometimes, nothing to be ashamed of. Ive been on my own for nearly 4 years, it's expected. To touch down in another state, or even in a foriegn country, a complete outlier, living on the fringes of their established society. You learn to adapt, to create companionship spontaneously, to make the best of your surroundings. You become a type of performance artist, living and dying by your wits, learning to connect with those you have nothing in common with, at least initially. Truth is, there's a common bond that connects us all beneath the surface if we just peer into the darkness hard enough. At the risk of sounding like a hippie, it shoes that God is on your side, that you're okay, no matter what ills befall you.


The first night I realized I was on my own was the first night of bootcamp. I listened attentively, horrified by the whimpering all around me. It seemed to fill the cavernous bay of our berthing, the low wailing reverberating off of the industrial grade steel bunks. I laid awake recanting my final memories before naval incarceration, my last few moments as a free man. My girlfriend fading into the distance as I drove away heavy hearted, my family collapsing in tears as my departure date drew nearer, and most painful, my parents walking away from me in tears, nearing collapse, as they dropped me off at my hotel, feeling they abandoned me to my fate. Oh, but I wasn't abandoned, I was freed, and through the alchemy of pain, sweat and struggle, I would become a Sailor. Ultimately, I would become a man.


I stared deep into the whiskey glass, searching for meaning in the murky brown liquid. The aroma emanating off of it was strong and vibrant, warning me of the danger it posed. Perhaps here I would find an answer to her mind games. Hot and cold, warm then icy, with bittersweet flirtation and torturous coyness, she pestered at my sanity, making me wonder if I could even trust myself. The auburn liquid was the same color as her beautiful eyes, peering at me from behind her librarian glasses. "$47 Sir.", the bartender said. Worst money Ive ever spent, because I still don't have my answer.

Popular posts from this blog

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years As my parole date looms and I prepare to muster out of the service that's cradled me the entirety of my adult life, I face the future with an uneasy trepidation coupled with my characteristic combative nature. I've heard every excuse, tempting me with bonuses and transparent promises regarding where I could live next, to tales of woe and agonizing regret, detailing the life of a miscreant that fleed from the Navy, expecting to flourish in the free world, no longer bound by the constraints of military life. Eager and cherry, they're invariably met with a crippling reality, sprinting head first into a shallow pool of filthy water barely concealing jagged, dangerous rocks and craters. I'll take my chances as I retake the reins of my life, though, even this far out, I know that my path will hardly be traditional, and will probably offend some traditionally and civically min

Outrunning The Reaper

Outrunning The Reaper The concept of aging intimidates me.  I wont say it scares me, because I feel that I've done the very best I can at retarding, delaying, and combatting it.  My training, which in the past prioritized hypertrophy and strength, misapplied in a hilariously misinformed fashion, has altered severely.  When I first got to Hawaii in 2017, I experimented with the idea of adopting EMOM (Every Minute On the Minute) training, a methodology I'd learned from studying Crossfit.  At that point I was doing 5 sets of Freestanding Handstand Pushups a day, with each set's repetitions decreasing incrimentally, following the Recon Ron Pullup Program.  It's available for free online, and a simple Google Image search will allow one to locate the entire workout.  I would sometimes do it twice a day, and before I stopped it, I was doing around 77 Handstand Pushups a session.  Back then I fancied myself a badass for completing such a "large" amount of volume in 1

Countertop

Haunting this countertop/ Wondering how could all/ This go bad and walk/ Away from us, the patterns caught/ On repetition in my life, absent thought/ A coward's plot/ To brandish false/ Hope and manage slots/ Left over from the branch that rots/ Away, the old adage copped/ As an excuse, wrath of God/ Plant your balk-/ -ing seeds and stand and walk/ Because you are my spectre/ And I'm stressing/ Out over the time left in/ Our dying ending/ The price mentioned/ Was too much, so I write, wept in/ Quiet, bet this/ Life's questions/ Won't answer why settling/ Down defied convention/ My best friend/ You'll soon fly, stretching/ Our hearts like vested/ Lives destined/ To find remnants/ Of each other in every girl or guy messed with/ And getting over you/ Is akin to choking booze/ Down and moping through/ My days, hopeless, nude/ Vulnerable, emotions bruised/ Soaked in blue/ Feelings, morose and gloom/ My heart poured into/ Every poem proof-/   -read at a bar, alone, enthus