1 I

One “I”

    Now you might not know it or you might. I can’t really say what everyone might know so I’ll try to fill you in with my condition as needed.  Many people live different lives. Some are born with to many,  Too many eyes, too many arms, fingers, toes, testicles, breasts, ovaries, nipples.  Others have to face the negative consequence to this and are born with to less, missing fingers, arms, born without genitalia, missing a piece of their brain, missing emotions, missing testicles, forgotten sanity, misplaced gender.  Other are born just right with the right amount of things, with the correct alignment of parts that make us all stop and go but aren’t these people missing some character.  Don’t we all have to be missing a certain something to be alive?  I wouldn’t want to reside in that world where everything is perfect, everything fit together too well where nothing ever confronted your day and made you suffer but I guess I am in a whole, special, predicament that not many people are faced with. 

    The obvious choice would be to limits one ability and to even perform against the complete and sane.  Without these instinctive regrets, the choices that we were born without, one could hardly call himself human but yet again, I am only going on a tangent based on my birth.  Some people hold it all their lives and even are faced with challenges daily, or what seems daily in their consciousness, because that is all they see themselves. The problems are when these normal, human-less, beings look decisively at the lessers.  It can be termed with the words numerator and denominator.  The numerators are the ones that are born with perfectness and are rather flat, lucid, beings that view either themselves above the rest or, even at times, regret the under privileged ones.  These sensitive subjects can be seen with gender, race, ideologies or even as big as a whole culture.  It is even seen with creed and the world works in many did facets but when it all comes down to it, its based on individualistic needs.
      Some people are born with something better, personality or communication or etcetera, so their needs to be some sort of equalizer.  All humans have a maximum and we are set their constantly.  It’s like when you lose a sense like sight, which I have, all the other four senses become stronger to make up for the strength that would inevitably go towards that sense.  This power needs to equal itself over the others because our bodies are machines and no energy is, particularly, wasted but that all depends on a person’s view.  Some say television is a waste and others say reading is and etcetera but each develop character in one another.   You start to take what you do seriously and once you found a hobby, your branch out into other areas that attribute that hobby.  But calling someone’s hobby, or their passion, or just what they do to outlive the stress of a given life is rather trivial in the whole scheme.
    Some people are even looked down upon for not promoting their crippling constant but people range differently.  As one would live up to his abilities under incognito while others need the support or acclaim from others just to live with their born incapabilities. It’s strange that people put preference on these sort of life obligations because it’s just that.  A person’s life.  It’s not like we could all live the same, unless we were embodied machines, but we all have our weaknesses and the only people viewing us in a qualitative perspective are the ones who think nothing is wrong because nothing can ever be wrong.  It’s not like we are wrong because we weren’t built properly but in a human biology terminology , we are considerably inaccurate.  But maybe it is all a little bit of natural selection, our bodies as a group are trying to select what we might need and also what won't benefit us in the long term.  Each one of us is studied, metaphysically, without an actual presence doing the correlating but us humans handling the decisions. 
    It's usually pretty hard to get up and start the day because of my condition.  In my head I see everything together, all perspectives and even depth.  Dreams come through swiftly and eloquently and I don't have to try and picture all the images around me as a whole rather than usual.  It's easier with my eyes closed but when I wake up I realize I can't live my life like this.  I can't just live in my own imagery and I begin to regret these thoughts, these urges to be a silhouette of what I can never be.  I looked up from my bed and everything looks like it should be contained to a canvas or even a television screen.  It has nothing there, no mass but just objects that all touch each other and exist without shape.  Depth is transparent when you only have one eye to see and all of life is up to interpretation rather than just being reasoned with which any normal person would do.  I have to scramble around and make sure I know where everything is and the distances between things, my eyes interpret like scientific instruments delegating things by just size and the source of light.  Things that are already in 2-D like cartoons, or paintings or movies basically everything attributes to entertainment just doesn't react with me because, even though that is how I already see life, it seems like a sucker punch. It's to hard to focus on any given object so my sight just wanders around and doesn't soak the image in.  Plus my mind just forfeits trying to plunge into the obvious because it is so used to internally focusing so I don't stumble like I used to, get injured like I used to and even look like a fool which I was used to.  I have given all those up so I can be a planned individual always knowing where everything is and just taking all of life and it's endless sphere of images in at a slow pace so my mind doesn't become severely overwhelmed.  I used to fall into crippling anxiety attacks when I was younger. 
    But eventually, after everything eventually was settled upon, I just started to cope with it and I’ve tried all the specialists that were supposed to help like therapists, doctors, physiatric, groups but the only thing that I found out that worked was myself.  I learned to confront myself and pester myself because I wanted to know why it ate me up so much, why it made me so bitter and why it plagued me from experiencing a plethora of events I missed out on because I was either ashamed, embarrassed, or cranky.  It’s not that I didn’t want to accept all these invitations because most of them I did, just not to the observatorium, and not only did I have to search out why I was penitent towards my awkward situation but also I had to deal with the regret of missing out on a life time of one in a kind events.  The only way to confront such a beast, that weighed with so many appendages, was to nit pick at it and I had to forwardly move myself in every aspect.  I needed to leave my old life of despair and forgetfulness, which usually consisted of alcoholic debunkery every night, and just leave that identity and start all over again. 
    I started taking what I enjoyed about old self.  I liked my attitude, a bit cynical and presumptuous discourse, but I didn’t enjoy where it was necessarily coming from so even though I live with my condition every day, ever since I was born, I try to see past it and instead of zooming in on me, I try to resolve my issues with my own perseverance by watching the things around me as if I was at an art exhibit.  It helped lighten up my mood watching the birds flock together and take off, the young chicks being stranded never learning how to fly, and the birds pecking at the worms that were passed out on the grass, all brought me delight because it was the whole scheme that I was interested in.  I guess this evidence helped me move on to my career path which is currently investigative journalist.  I don’t do much field work because, quite frankly, everyone remembers a guy with one eye.  I mostly do the writing and even setup the whole catastrophe.  I’ve never been the one to be the one in the middle of the action but just the observer jotting down, mentally, the things I catch glimpse of, the events that unfolded under my eye, and the outcome.  Nothing else matters except the outcome because that is how everyone tests out their hypothesis and even if you were mistaken, you still learn something in the end.  Pure objectivity.
    But work takes an affect on one’s person soul just like the next.  It doesn’t matter your viewpoint if you are doing it in the wrong location, if you recently slipped up and found yourself stuck in a outcome that wasn’t planned for.  I preferably feel worse for the provoking souls that never had a place to go to or even see the view from.  I started my whole life watching the landscape hoping one day I would get to live inside it, then you generously skip over it like an embarrassing moment and you find yourself at the other side but now that dream, that landscape which was Analytic journalism is behind me, tremendously falling behind.  It was a farther reach, I didn’t just stumble into my new profession, it was always in the back of my mind because the line is so thin but now I deal with the real.  I need to find a news article that will sting the public instead of wow them.  I could simplify the complex but finding the isolate and making a mountain out of it is supremely deepening.  Some days it is different leads that just end in split ends and others its just sniffing.  Trying to turn up your own deep rooted shit but it’s more difficult then it sounds.  Evidence leads to facts and since everything is through public relations on corporations and politicians which is what the public wants to hear about is strenuous to comb through.
    I’ve been pretty much terminable at my job.  I can’t find anything in this world.  Everything is fitting to oddly into the cracks.  It’s not like it actually fits because listen to all of the backlash between diplomatic, social and economical debate streaming to us.  Everything was designed far to long ago and rather then fit us like a template, it rather controls us like a toy.  At one point it must of fit and everything seemed right and everyone was profoundly glad but that weight from this design is still being smushed into us.  That intolerability is starting to envelop us, probably the people in most aspects, but being a minority is taken a different approach then recent usages.  We are the majority, we have the endless supply of rations but we are trepid to our beliefs of living.  We are enslaved to our professions because of this notion of professionalism  Now that is something that is evident in our existence. Not showing a corporate executive running around with a mistress.  That is an interesting task because there is so many loopholes one has to go through to reach that circumstance.  Must be an insider but what about diving deeper into that.  No not just telling me that men are perverts and the women selling themselves are the victims.  I agree I really do but everything has a root, a reason that aren’t just built up fictionalities but actual solid basis.  The only barrier a Analytical journalist has to go through is the way to escape from individuality and personal personalities.  People are different in public then they are by themselves respectively.  And others will either voice there opinion or be passive based on atmosphere rather then belief.  But its a generality that all occupations have to step over to reach an audience which are the test subjects.
    ***

    Eyes shut without even realizing it, Life moans with every change.  It could all be perfect if you ever wondered what you didn’t have, even if it was with each blink, so many in a minute, sending off radar of the surroundings.  Both tempted to wonder the world that only junctions with another dimension.  Who knows, some of the oddities and conniveries could lost if it wasn’t there.  Your life could of existed differently, just in the act, then me.  With one eye.  It’s a constant to you and a variable to me.  I wish I didn’t feel like a commodity in this deceivable world.     
    But I guess you have to live with your contemplations, the decision making side of your brain.  Some times you just need to contain faith.  Using chance on the grandest scale of justification. But the danger the lies ahead could be interested in the deportation or the resurrection.  Timeliness in the face of a wall which deters from the hypercritical.  Derailing a life from it’s core, picking at a silence from a loud roaring crowd, trying to change singularity to multiplicity.  One equals the world and the world equals you.  Life changed, One eye up and the other one down.  The difference is parallax.  The shift between perception and reality.  two dimension from the third.  One sets you in stone and the other leaves you wandering, suffer some, believing the sight around you and the other qualifications that define culture.  The eye loves to wander, balancing our existence with pondering's that differs from the consistency of nature.  Each notion floating around like those sun spots on your irises, the ones that fall from our perphiel, they look just like static particles, two dimensional beings escaping your attention span, drowning out through the lapses of reality and leaving to just come another day.  The thought of that appearing consistently throughout the day, when the buildings look like they are gliding and people, in crowds, seem to periodically vanish from there friends, some jumping and others falling farther then the ground.  Days begin to pass when it seems as if you were glancing at the same sight, but the figures are just rotating like constellations. 
    But things shift continually, tremendous amounts of mass changes just with the revolution of our earth.  Each perspective changes slightly with the water that stains to your eyes, each a cognitive tumble towards reality.  The closer we become near to the conventional and uniting under our small factions the farther the deviation has to stroll to even endure the timidity of the seconds that strengthen us and dwindle behind us on each passing moment.  It could easily be said that I have come to the terms that I could never be defined as normal but throughout my whole life, since I was born with this embedded disease, this trustworthy enemy, that I have strived for some sort of religious vow to improve my inner workings and understand how to grasp the rope that has always been dangled in front of me.  It’s to difficult to clench even when it fills the entire room, filled with colleagues, peers, and past relatives.  Our senses are keen to wonder on intruding personas.
    If I had sight, I would be able to rely on my body to receive the looks, not my eye.  That alone could do me justice, a rite of intensification to explore my intended duty of our sense.  But all those long due stares start to add up.  There are the one’s that try not to seem guilty by staring but just want to peep for a little while longer.  Then there are the ones that don’t care and will stare you down as if you were a freak.  But the odd thing is that they everyone always looks.  It can be from the ages to a child, letting here eyes nudge past there hair just so they can glorify those fairy tales to parents, trying to shield my carnivalesque amazement from there impressionable children even to the grandparents still finding the forgotten treasures in life that they have heard through countless tales but haven’t quite seen.  Just being subjected to those stares have added up to a lifetime.  People look at me longer then I look at myself in the mirror every morning.  Some people, even though the number is rather small, come up and consult me on my disorder.  They will ask of its occurrence and I’ll just tell them I was born with it.  Others will ask me how I live and I tell them that I do not know, how do they live.  They usually say with two eyes.  Either they don’t get the irony or no one has ever pointed out there shortcomings to them.  The funny thing is we all live and to the most of us, it’s unbearable.  And always knowing that, walking through the street, watching pedestrians or running errands, it’s hard to fathom the complaints at times. 
***
    The world is rather a simple place, with easy objectives.  Just because humanity eventually embedded us with this complex state of living, we like to call it modernity, doesn’t mean we have to subscribe to the nonsense.  It’s hard not to, right?  It is all around us, no matter if we are home, out in public, or just working.  All is affected by this revolving parasite but it gives us all a status.  Even though we didn’t even know we wanted one, once we are given this proclamation of ourselves, we strive to live up to it.  If I’m the boss then I have the control.  Control is a little bit manipulation and a lot of power.  Since power is almost always subjective, really these people living up to expectations or striving to better their status usually from low to high have nothing except our perceptions of them.  But in this world of simplistic complexity, that is all that briefly matters in our short time frame. 
    We have a lot of things to contribute to the over all sadness that we, regular folk usually between low to middle class, have been dealing with for quite some time now.  A few hundred years but I imagine that we are becoming worst.  Rather then knowing about it, seeing the hands for ourselves, they have become so conniving, so carnivorous, and contemptible that they we don’t even speak up anymore.  Actually, we look down on the people that are trying to publicly acknowledge the cell walls around us.  We tell them to stop looking at their short comings and be positive.  But if we didn’t have a negative, such as a oligopolistic corporations trying to secretly do dangerous things to us, to our environment or to our future, then a positive can never exist. It’s the law of neutrality. 
***
    The doctors never told my parents what happened when I was first born.  I think they just covered it by saying that it was an affect of birth.  I was my mothers only child.  I never got the chance to ask her why my parent’s never tried for another child.  I was to late, my mother passed away from leukemia when I was still in my teens.  I was guessing it was because the troubles they had with me.  It wasn’t like I was a rather unruly child but I had bigger needs then an average, normal child that parents not only hope for but expect while childbearing. This was way before the advancements in ultrasound technology.  All they knew was that I was there and it was a miracle.  Now they can tell you everything you need to know about your baby and it’s boring.  That is the dreams of our technology.  To make seminally hard tasks and simplify them to or for the sanctity of stupidity.  It then gives us another level to consult upon.  First was the social class and now there is the distinguishable class of intellectuals.  It’s a hard ball game to play now a days because even though you are dumb, you could possibly be rich or vice versa.  But being smart is tremendously more subjective then a social class because that caste system has more to rely on money but the ability to be an intellectual basically means either school, your pursuit for knowledge, or a luck driven gift based on nature, nurture, and lots of chance. 
    But the real obscure question is who is better?  Isn’t that the final solution to this year long struggle.  If you are dumb, you look down on the intellectuals and only converse with other morons.  That is fine because you are living.  Then there are the intellectuals who look up to other intellectuals, look down on the stupidity of their society and try to become smarter, constantly, to change their ranking among the intellects.  They are living but it’s amoral.  They are striving for some certainty of perfection.  Being so knowledgeable, having so much wisdom and blurring the lines between science and arts that they can fuse the two.  It’s nearly insane trying to limit yourself to a goal that exceeds infinity.  But, just like the imbeciles, they are living.  To me, it looks like a strange balance.  If it wasn’t for the idiots then the smart one’s wouldn’t have anyone to look at to compare themselves to and if it wasn’t for the smart ones, the idiots wouldn’t have anyone to complain about when something doesn’t go there own way.  Both sides are irrational but without one or the other, their lives wouldn’t either be the same or exist. 

***

    Just woke up from a dream.  Day light is creeping in, hitting my face through the blinds but the rays, the ones that used to color my life’s palette a viscous white is now waking me up with impressive detail. The world is swerving though like the spin of Earth is only affecting me. My eye used to be able to center on an object and concentrate but now my focus is jumbled.  Everything shoots out at me, nothing corresponds but everything seems peculiar.  Wait a second.  Each blink, of my eyelids are displayed.  I can see with both of my eyes but it isn’t what I expected.  Nothing seems in place anymore.  What used to be is now moved like the re-decorators that move everything 2 inches to the left.  But this isn’t a decoration but a downfall.  My eyes seem to twitch while I still lay in my bed, they shift, glance, trying to coordinate my room and all of its surroundings but it’s overwhelming my brain.  A headache starts to persist and it’s moving rapidly to cover my whole head.  Not only is my head shaking but my eye sight actually seems much more limited.  My coffee table looks different, nearly out of place, while the rest of my peripheral is throbbing and absorbing the light that reflects allowing me to see all the spectrums instead of the opaqueness of color.  The walls used to be plain white.  Now they are an eggshell cream tumbling slowly around me, letting the tables, the stationary objects, begin to shift from their original positioning (yesterdays), to it’s new current dimension.  Now that I am aware of it I must tell you, I thought things would be different.  Thinking that it would all be different if I was connected to the norm was obtuse.  It was my deviation that made me and all of us different.  Thoughts are filling up my head faster then I can process, the world is flying away from my body and jolting back into plain sight every breath.  Hyperventilation.  The opening of consciousness as the balance procreates, multiplies, and eventually sacrifices you to the threshold of society.  As if we fell from a status on top of a very tall building and was caught and held up by ourselves.  Convulsions sweep through my body, I try to close my eyes but even the blankness of darkness still apprehends my free will into a violent, torturous, downfall.  If aren’t who we are but we are better.  It’s just the rest of us trying to fight for the better half.  Opinions just get in the way of the simplicity, the beauty, and the delusions are what pulls us through to the end.  Even to our last breaths.