The dreams we have
and never get
the breaking of the happiness myth
the point where our happiness becomes
the tragedy of the depressions affecting us
the depression of the tragedies affecting us
dawnings of reality, rising up to crush the optimum dream
rearing ugly head to crush the optimists spirit
optimism crushed from our hopes, as we bow down and succumb to the ways of the Machine...
Lie down, in the trenches... have a laugh...
I had a good childhood. In my teens I joined the fight, courtesy of Star Wars, 1984, Pink Floyd, Mururoa, etc., against the powers that be and their Machine. I am an optimistic, happy, looking-for-fun kind of person. It was not the negative I sought, it was the positive; how to fix it all.
Two years after writing the above verse I had come to a point in my ‘talk-the-walk’ where I had figured out how I could help with social liberty, environmental equality, and a future for my daughters and their friends. I was ready to ‘walk the talk’, I just needed a little help. I approached those I looked up to with my writings. My Mother and Sisters misunderstood me, my lover opposed me, the Green Party rejected me with a letter that sounded like it came from the National Party.
The Brick in the Wall I’d been bashing my head against, harder and harder, did not break – it broke me. More than I ever imagined when that poem was written. The setback, when I was expecting a step forward, was so great that I had to give it up… have a laugh…
But with it came a disregard for my existence. I was not contemplating suicide, just taking bigger risks than usual. In fact, I could never understand how people could end it all, that if I was in their position I would attempt to destroy my persecutors before any thought of destroying myself. All I wanted was fun times. Hitting the old Murphy’s Road hump at speed was one of those. One night I bore down on it doing 180. At the last moment, I braced myself for flight, feet firm against the floor, so I was probably doing 170km/hr when the Honda Integra left the ground. We flew for three seconds – it was awesome – but I could’ve killed myself.
Weeks later when I thought about it - about the fact that my actions could’ve caused my death - a flood of relief flowed through my tense, stressed, tired self. The feeling that it would all go away, all my problems would disappear… I suddenly understood.
But something else I had written earlier, back in 2001, pulled me away from the enticing feeling of relief I felt.
And she watches it for a while till thick high cloud rolls in and turns the morning sun to haze. Speechless, she walks on, and on, and on. She walks on and on through an empty, featureless desert, ‘til the horizon surrounding her is a circle, and hope fades away. Desperation sways her mind, she starts contemplating suicide.
“There’s nothing out here, no-one out here, maybe I am the only one left... maybe I'm dead! Maybe this is Hell, all of us walking around endless alone wondering where all the others have gone. This is Hell, an eternity of this, oh, it’s unbearable to even think of it.. I’ve got to go back, I’ve got to make sure, maybe they’re all waiting for me, to go to Heaven.”
She turns around and begins walking back, ‘til visions of the dead Bunker flood her mind. She breaks down crying, dropping to her knees.
“Walking backwards and forwards for eternity, this is Hell, I should just kill myself, end it...,”
And what she says snaps her out of it.
“What am I saying! How could I kill myself, when just around the corner could be a new life! I’ve got to go on. What good would come of killing myself? This again, or just darkness? Certainly not Heaven.. I’m losing my mind, I’m going mad, I’ve got to stop thinking! Stuff it, to Hell with killing myself.”
So yeah, dunno if that helps. If not, ask me for my story of the cow that licked me better when all seemed lost.