Skip to main content

From Savior To Servant

Originally posted in The Haven

Im very emphatic. Whether or not you believe in astrology, the theory of the Indigo Children, or some type of pseudo-scientific, heightened awareness of emotion, I have that ability, as Im sure many of us do. Depending on your perspective, this can be either a glorious blessing, allowing you to treat guile, deception and obfuscation as mere annoyances, transmuting them into transparent glass to peer deeply into the workings of a tortured heart, or a malevolent curse, burdening you with a poignant sensitivity to foriegn, impersonal problems and issues you're compelled by your own contradictory nature to solve, no matter how apathetic you may claim to be.

 Those of us who harbor this gift can be in impeccable physical shape and be indisputably intelligent, yet, when presented with a loved one's malady or even something as distant as a stranger's heartache, can be noticably and devastatingly affected. The alien emotions pour into us, seizing control of our sense of well being and commandeering our reason. You become the arbiter of conflicts, the martyr of consolation, and the catalyst for change. You do indeed save the lives of those afflicted drifters you shield and cure, but often at the expense of your own sanity. If you were freezing, caught in the inescapable throes of a violent snowstorm, you wouldnt burn your house down to stay warm. Sure you'd recieve temporary comfort, but with each aching second death would be creeping silently and despicably towards you. Eventually your shelter would be gone, and youd succumb to the elements. This allegory may seem erroneous, but it's lessons hold true for those of us who seek to save everyone. Im some cases you're slowly killing yourself.

On this island, things move with astonishing rapidity. The tropical, scenic locale coalesces with the primal freedoms one embraces when every beach is 5 minutes away, and the dance of male/female interaction is carried out in a natural, intuitive fashion that is normally inhibited on the mainland. What would normally take weeks is completed in days, and the primordial rhythms of sexual attraction and culmination pound effervescently through the sweet Hawaiian air, eternal background music guiding us all through eternity's oldest expression of humanity. And so here, as we all do, perpetual students of the Game we are, I met a girl.

Things started off well enough. Dating led to sex, sex carried on into companionship, and companionship fueled honesty. As we bore our souls to each other, this poor girl unloaded her entire voluminous history on my psyche. The endless list will remain hidden for respect of privacy, but the pertinent information is that she was plagued by thoughts of suicide. Immediately, I became the protector, the soldier, the hero all men long to be. I assured her that people loved her, cared about her, and longed only for her happiness. I weaved tales of bitter truth won from painful experience, informing her of the massive canyon that would be forcefully and excruciatingly dug from the hearts of her loved ones by the permanence of her death and the finality of her actions. She wept cascadingly as I held her, thanking me profusely for the wisdom I had bequeathed upon her. She swore never to give into those dreadful thoughts, and resolved to remain strong. It was all a horrible ruse.

Things degenerated rapidly from that moment onward. She began acting out perniciously, becoming aggressive and unkempt. Every argument was punctuated with the utterance of, "I guess Ill go kill myself then". I was a wreck, caught maliciously between Machivellian meticulousness and juvenile insanity. All disagreements and hostilities were met with the threat of her impending death, the foul promise spilling forth from her own revolting mouth. And this is where the purpose of this all culminates. If you are susceptible to the state of others in even the most minute degree, or possess a modicum of basic decency and compassion, you would be as I was in these dreadful moments. As morbid and disturbing as it sounds, however, with each repeated deathly barb, the sting faded and ebbed. The elegantly sharpened point of her verbal rapier degraded until it was a dull shadow, a pathetic husk of what it once was. In short, I left her. I told her that I'd always be there for her, and that if she ever needed to talk, Id guide her through it, but the tumultuous depravity of our regressed relationship was too much to bear. Last I checked, she had a new boyfriend, and is nowhere close to committing suicide.

The reason for this exposition was to shed some badly needed light on a relatively undiscussed issue. Everyone here is incredibly passionate, dedicated and extreme. We love women, we love game and we crave experience. Our collective lust for life could fuel repeated trips to the end of the known universe. This boundless zest is a blessing, a fountain of youth. But, like all energies, if it's focused in the wrong directions, it can be debilitating and nearly fatal.

I wanted to save that girl, to do everything in my power to ensure she wouldn't follow through on the unspeakable. I clung to her out of the sense of inborn decency we all have far past normal expectations, simply because I wanted to secure her safety. But she ultimately used this compassion against me until I was emotionally barren and ethically weakened.

Always seek to do good Brothers and Sisters. Always. The Haven was founded upon that premise, to be a place of boundless optimism and potential. But you must realize that there are those in the world that, like the incubi and succubi of lore and myth, will abuse your benevolent nature, and become parasitic in their hunger and need for drama in their interpersonal relationships. To seek to save other's is an admirable quality we should celebrate and never lose. For those of us with gargantuan hearts overflowing with an abundance of light, stifled as it may be in some cases, we have little choice in the matter. But when you cross the line from savior to servant, have the balls to say, "Fuck this", and tend to yourselves, first and foremost. Remember your worth.


Popular posts from this blog

Rosary

Rosary The time has come for honesty/ I admit I suck at boxing these/ Fighters, they're lunging, robbing me/ Of a dream that kept me up and walking free/ When my life wasn't mine, I'd thrust and pocket these/ Experiences, my trust was not the thing/ Reciprocated but my love was stalking me/ All around the world, but the lottery/ Came and went and I was stuck with all the beat/ Tickets, so I burned them and the rush it halted weak-/ Minded busted fallen dreams/ I clutched my balls and screamed/ I'm not done, don't walk on me/ As the exposure seeped/ In my bones as sleep/ Came over me/ It became my rosary/ I was quoting reams/ Of poetry/ When on the lowest brink/ I chose to keep/ Fighting and swinging, yet closure seemed/ So far away, but I rode the steep/ Waves of my internal roving needs/ The crones and leech-/   -es began to notice me/ So I'd throw a weak/ Punch and found a skull/ In my hand to hold/ Powerful/ Strength that wasn't there before, I was astoun

A Drunkard's Lament

              Alcohol/ Is a battle fought/ With madness wrought/ From the sadness caught/ Between a man that calms/ His hands and thoughts/ With poison that wraps its claws/ Around his watch/ Makes time pass and stop/ Whenever he slams a shot/ I have forgot-/ -ten the chasms walked/ Barefoot and half distraught/ When I've drowned in bot-/ -tles of the brownest rot-/ -gut liquor, that the damned can flaunt/ Prancing, dropped/ By the rancid vom-/ -it that crams and falls/ From the mouth of all/ The manic lost/ Ones that choose to pad their traum-/ -as with Jack and vod-/ -ka, Schnapps and all-/ -the traps of karma/ Let's get plastered, crawl the/ Line, disasters wobbling/ Pants are starting/ To tear, we're panting, heart is/ Racing, death a tragic pardon/ From the crimes of a master wrong one/ The fortune amassed is startling/ Fan your pockets/ For the change that's always last for varmints/ Alas, unvarnished/ Regrets are magic, popping/ Up wherever you're lashed and

Curtailed Dreams: Fuck The Coronavirus

Curtailed Dreams: Fuck The Coronavirus When I was in the Navy, particularly my last 2 years, all I dreamed about was boxing when I got out. At sea in 2014, out on a workup, in the process of getting ready to deploy, I was on the night shift.  When on the water, you endure what's termed Port and Starboard Watch, which is essentially a novelty nautical name for twin 12 hour shifts. One ran from 0800-2000, while the other, obviously, went from 2000-0800.  Since I'm nocturnal by nature, I quickly volunteered for the latter, and got it. I remember it had amused me because I'd done everything in my power to get San Diego, CA as my first duty station, only to end up exiled to Norfolk, VA, yet I'd secured my spot on the night shift in such short order.  When my happiness was involved, I was ignored, but when my labor was needed, I was prioritized.  It was around 3 in the morning and I had just finished my workout. Obviously I dont remember the exact contents of it, but I'm