I hear you push through the rusty gate
kick up your heels on the concrete
waiting for a night coming way too late
It seems an age since I’ve seen you
Count down as the weeks trickle into days
so you come in and put your bags down
I know there’s something in the air
How can I do this to you right now if you’re over there when I need you here?
My happiness is slowly creeping back.
Now you’re at home, if it ever starts sinking in it must be when you pack up and go.
It seems an age since I’ve seen you. Count down as the weeks trickle into days.
I hope that time hasn’t changed you, all I really want is for you to stay.
if it ever starts sinking in it must be when you pack up and go.
I know I know I know what is inside
I am so frustrated lately it’s beyond belief. I know its because of being wrong and continuing to do things that I know are selfish and wrong but that also have such a firm grip on me. I spend much of my time on fruitless endeavors and in fact I have squandered so much of my soul, my time on the planet, the good feelings that others have held for me, and all of the resources that I have managed to come by in the past several years that it has now come to the point where I don’t think I can ever fully recover what has been lost. I know this for a fact actually who am I kidding goddammit. The truth is I am so fucking ANGRY at the world (myself) that usually I cannot make rational decisions. Much of my anger is gambling related. I just want to smash fucking everything because my luck is always horrible. I play games that are not meant to be beaten like slot machines and then I get so fucking angry when they unjustly steal my fucking money that I can’t see straight. I take this attitude, along with my broke-penniless-pitiful self, everywhere else I have to go on the planet. Of course pretty much everything else in my life is tainted and tainted horribly from that desperate, weak, stupid, bad, conniving, secretive, insincere, groveling, needy, begging, trail that follows any degenerate gambler around like a stormy, black cloud. My actions are inexplicable to myself let alone others and it is no wonder that people bail out of my world faster then shit. Everyone that has known me and been in interaction with me for any material amount of time is woefully tired of me and my shenanigans. I take and I take and I act as if its my birthright to keep on taking and yet when the time comes for me to give….I justify not giving in a lame attempt to convince myself that I need to have some kind of a bankroll to fall back on. In reality I can’t put two nickels together. Money burns intensely hot once it finds its way into my pockets. I have an urgent, in fact, critical need for money to pay things that have been on the back burner for so long that I can’t really remember the totality of what I need to spend. All I know is that it is a huge, huge mountain of unpaid debt and hard feelings and anger, both ways. It sits on my soul like cancer and I want so badly to get that big win just to get some pride and confidence back, pay some people off, do some nice things for people that have been so good to me with nothing in return for so fucking long. I’m talking about long suffering people who are desperately sick of me but have been cursed by the fact that they are family members and they love me. I feel so sorry about so many things and I have so many amends to make that it is inconceivable that I will ever get through them all. Not only that I am stubborn and resentful, full of pride and self pity both which is an oxymoron if ever you’ve seen one. I act really mysterious and fool people at the beginning with charm, looks, wit and a fair bit of natural intelligence and some talent, not a lot, but some, in quite a few different areas. I have more skeletons in my closet then 99% of the world’s population I’d have to say and its only through foolish denial that I manage to convince myself most days that I’m actually a good person, on the road to recovery. I fool nobody except myself and that is only a temporary fooling. Everyone else is on to my bullshit almost immediately and the perceptive man or woman, especially the one who is not afraid to call a spade a spade, will almost immediately begin noting my discrepancies and sooner rather then later they call me out on my shit and its more of the same for me. Nothing new in fact I’ve been experiencing it my whole life. I’m not really close to anyone. No one at all. Plenty of people find me interesting but it’s the kind of interest that people take in things like train wrecks and other natural disasters. I am the king of broken promises and the land I rule is one where the smell of shit is so intense that it burns the eyes and permeates the soul, I’m too much of a coward to do myself and the world a favor by ending my pitiful, meaningless existence. God only keeps me around for His own amusement. Like I said, it is fascinating to watch the inevitable happen. This is true especially when the solution is so obvious it might as well be stamped on the forehead of the person flailing away, bouncing his head against the brick wall endlessly. There is some comfort in routine. If my routine revolves around me getting a big remorseful headache as a result of banging my head against the wall well that just makes for some serious slapstick comedy for the entertainment of those smart enough to realize that the headache could be avoided by simply not banging that head into that same fucking brick wall. For some reason, although I have been blessed with a degree of something like intelligence, I never seem to conceptualize the simplicity of that axiom until it is too late and the money is gone. I am so stubborn. It is without doubt my main Achilles’ heel. I’m stubborn and I have a negative attitude and I feel entitled. I feel like I am “special”. Sure, I’m special alright. Wow. The efforts that I have gone through to acquire money which I then proceeded to literally give away to nameless, faceless, soulless entities like casinos, poker players, drug dealers is staggering. I want to list out the stories that I can remember, the good people that I have fucked over again and again, the incomprehensible horror and shame that I have had to endure because of my own actions but it is such a one sided and unenlightening set of deeds that I don’t know if there is a purpose to it except possibly the satisfaction it would give to some of the victims of my selfish ambition just to hear me admit that I am a piece of human shit. I’m cunning enough that I’ve been able to get by my whole life, cheating myself and everyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with me by manipulating circumstances just enough as to leave a shred of doubt over whether my intentions ever fully equaled the consequences of my actions. Truth be told, I’ve never intended to fuck anybody around. I used to have noble high hopes of coming through in the end and showing everyone, including myself that although the methods I’ve utilized were highly risky and dangerous for me and the ones who trusted me, that my heart was always in the right place and inevitably everything would be worth the temporary hassle and disapproval and doubt. Slowly these hopes have waned to the point where these days I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or why and I’m led by my past into my present which tomorrow will be just more of the same. Life has become a grind. I’m now fully stuck in this rut. No longer can I say, “for a minute there I lost myself”. That minute has become a decade. A decade for me is 25% of my life to date and I’m not getting any younger. The chances for redemption seem to be harder and harder to come by and the saddest thing for me is that my hopes have eroded to the point where most of them are just regrets. There is no other way to put it. I’ve lost things that are not ever going to be replaced. How does one go about replacing a flesh and blood sister who committed suicide in jail on Valentine’s Day really? A sister who died with her brother who was bringing home 2,500 every two weeks and gambling it all away, while at the same time running up a debt of over 700 dollars for his drug habit. A debt with his sister. It boggles the mind and frustrates the soul and embitters the heart to consider the finality of that situation and the utter despair which must have accompanied her final moments on this planet. I’m guilty of being an accomplice in her death. I know it without a doubt. There are so many things I could have done to help her and I know this and I have to live with this and its not easy to live with. My “hopes” in that area are gone until I’m gone and then we’ll see what happens but for now suffice to say I can’t replace something I lost. That’s one thing. I’ve got many more. How many of these stains on my soul am I going to have to endure until finally, even my heart, grossly swollen with unjustified pride as it is, has had enough and just can’t bear the thought of one more toxic set of events on its thin and unsteady walls, and finally gives out and puts me out of my misery? Only God knows that answer. I can assure you that nobody is going to be feeling sorry for me and there will be no mercy for me then. It will be too late by far. I don’t even need to hear myself being doomed to an eternity of frustration by the Almighty. I already know I won’t be able to avert His righteous gaze or come close to answering his question, “WHY DID YOU NOT TURN AWAY FROM YOUR FRUITLESS WAYS WHILE YOU WERE STILL ALIVE YOU JACKASS? I BEAT YOU ON THE HEAD WITH THE CERTAIN TRUTH THAT YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO PROSPER THE WAY YOU WERE LIVING BUT YOU CHOSE TO IGNORE MY ENTREATIES THEN. DON’T BOTHER WITH YOUR ENTREATIES NOW. FOR I AM IGNORING YOURS AND TURNING MY BACK ON YOU FOREVER”.
I wrote this 12 hours ago approximately and I read it over for the second time just minutes ago. I’m blown away by my gripping writing style I must say. One area of my life that is nearly sublime as it stands right here and now has got to be my writing. I was hypnotized reading it just now. I read it as if someone else had written it and I found myself feeling waves of empathy wash over me. I know I was hard on myself when I wrote that. The mood I was in at the time was equal parts frustration and sorrow. It was written in the dead of night, a cold, loveless, November night to be specific, and as a standalone piece definitely conveys the desperation and certain hopelessness that I was feeling at the time. I stand by what I’ve written but in the light of day I can afford to be more kind and understanding of Anthony Mandich. I have no choice but to be kind and understanding. I’m not ready to throw in the towel on my life. Not by a long shot. The only way to emerge from the labyrinth of fruitlessness that I have aspired to the past several years is to continue baring my soul and my actions, in a sort of self induced confessional via the keyboard and mouse I am currently using to type this shocking piece of non fiction. My own actions need to be exposed to the harsh light of day and I need to take ownership for the bag of shit I have steadily filled and carried alongside me for such a long time. Only by peeling away these layers of toxicity through admitting them in a no nonsense forum such as this, can I hope to eventually make my way to that clearing in the middle of the forest that is my life and find the good hearted, beautiful, talented, happy go lucky, affectionate, bundle of joy that is Anthony Mandich as he was born into this world. Anthony Mandich before life had begun to have its way with him and him with life…..
Stay tuned for what I promise to be a fascinating trainwreck of a document. One that nobody is going to be able to put down once its taken up and started…..