Can We Call This Kindness?

 

let my temporary shine be a tax to pay and glimmers through action

exhaustion of what seems not to be my reflection

holding a rose to you with thorns in my hands

thusly spake: Can We Call This Kindness?

gritted gnashed teeth to propel at an unnatural fast and colorful speed

when an unpolished iron sphere already rolls slow

and if you enjoy cheers and comforted laughter

then at my cost i shall bring you a banquet

sounds beautiful to disintegrate the ego

for no I looked so shiny and beckoning

excuse me

search, solitude, reinstalling false positives

Holidays

    Was never a fan of the holidays since I enlisted. Even in general, being in the military, you are separated from friends, family, home. You are never at home. You may be at a house or dorm, but it is never a home. A place you can settle down for long term, where you know all of the roads with no GPS because you've been here so long. You know the good food places, the interesting shops. You make lifetime memories and more. But this is no home.

    And it costs money, time, to go see your friends and family if you are not stationed near them. Not everyone has the pleasure of having friends or family with them during the holidays. I've come to associate the holidays with dread because it is that stark reminder that you are alone and separated from home. 

    When I did have the chance today to ask someone to join me for Thanksgiving, it was exciting. I thought of what I could cook. Chili, the amazing chili I made a few days ago and froze. We can have burgers! And mashed potatoes, or mac and cheese. I got a grill, so we can barbecue! I have my PS2, my switch too. Games! Food! Fun. So it was nice and I was thrilled. But later that day, he texted me to say that his relatives invited him to Thanksgiving and he wouldn't be joining me.

    And it was the greatest let-down today. Greatest let-down in a long time. The chance I had at having fun and being happy during the time I always somewhat hated, squandered. So maybe if I reach out to someone else, they will surely be free and I can have a guest in my house finally. Also a no. They're going to visit family. Try a second person. No. Family. Third person, no response so far. I also expect them to say no.

    Each of them say they appreciate the thought, but it means little to me. It is still no. It is still a rejection. And to twist the knife further, my roommate is invited to join in Thanksgiving with two other of my coworkers, but I was not asked either. "You're not invited," I interpreted it. A few give their blanket statements that whoever is alone for Thanksgiving can join them, but that's no personal outreach to me. It takes someone asking me specifically for it to have meaning. That someone thought of me in particular, rather than just anyone in general. It's unfortunate that I admit it sounds like entitlement. I know I am entitled to nothing. Yet the gesture, the thought. Even if I were asked, and I still said no, I would have enjoyed your concern. It has greater meaning for me to be the host and take you into my "home." What sentiments and items are important to me, where I live, for you to experience. You get to see who I am. And yet...

    You won't get to see it. I won't get to share a piece of myself like I wish. And you don't want to share with me who you are. And their backs are turned to me when I do have the courage to ask them to join me either. So maybe you will now see why the holidays are not a good time of the year.

Silent

Yesterday morning, prior to an anxiety attack, a coworker came to me while I was sitting alone and he said, casually, "What's going on? You look depressed."

Minutes ago, I was sitting alone listening to ambient music, idle in deep thinking, and another coworker came to me and said, "Hey, Del, you look dead."

One week ago, I went to sit and eat at a restaurant alone, rather bummed to be alone (melancholic, yet doing okay), a third coworker bumps into me and remarks, "Is anybody with you? You came here alone?"

Something, something about it. When I am alone, people I know feel inclined to come interact and remark, all with good intentions and to not be rude, yet...

I ask you to leave me in peace. Do not say hi. Let me take in my self, my environment. Do not remove me from my reflecting, my pondering, my deep thinking. In silence, I recover, but your interactions, your remarks, remind me of the very issues that stress me. If you were to simply walk past me, I would have my peace.