My Beautiful, Dark, Twisted Mind

This is a piece I wrote at a point in my life when I was shrouded by negativity. I wrote this to engage myself despite feeling a disconnection with reality.

The scope of the galaxy is unparalleled, if fact it, and it only are indefinite. Perhaps time is indefinite as well, or a product of mass paranoia that tells us when to sleep, to live, to be born, and to die. Unfortunately in these times of hormonal confusion, I find myself not racing against the clock, but walking alongside it in limbo, waiting for my time to come. You see, I think the universe is too big, because in my head it’s working harder than it has to - and it’s hurting my experience. I mean, if there is a God, should he not prioritize? The beautiful people, the ones who could cure cancer and end world hunger. I, on the other hand, follow a destiny of an arbitrary life - with some reason. Of course I want to attend school, get a job who can keep my family satisfied. But who can say that is my arbitrary destiny. Perhaps I follow the line of black sheep, I see the stoner losers in my family who we make snide remarks about when they look away. I mean, everybody knows I smoke in my family but I get the teenage pass, but what happens after? Can I attend post secondary with my grade? Can I escape the endless temptation of drug use? Will I succumb to alcoholism? Will I fall to both and stupe to an existence of abuse and dead-ends? Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll overcome all and become the child Mom so desperately wants me to be. A good job, a family who I can be proud to call my own. Now doesn’t that seem a burden that can keep you awake at night?

Oh, and sleepless nights they are. Think of how beautiful the galaxy is - it never ends. My mind can be a beautiful thing, but it does not end. For as big as any universe is, any human psyche - there is such large amounts of emptiness. For space, quintillions of miles of nothingness. The psyche shares indeed an awe inspiring scope, but not so much nothingness as pain, memories buried so deep to protect you, every night I realize my mind is not empty voids of nothingness. No, the pain comes and fills every space the joy cannot and sadly, it occupies a larger mass. A mass so strong indeed, I can’t seem to get myself out of bed. A mass so strong it breaks me down to a state, sobbing to be free from myself, a state where Mom wants you under constant supervision - but you’re not going back there - you tell yourself, I tell myself. I tell her I swear I just had a bad night. Am I lying? I couldn’t be sure, but the pain can be immense. Some nights I think I’m borderline insane. But this beautifully twisted, dark thing I call my mind - can be used to my advantage. In fact, I think that’s what encouraged me to write this. A cosmonaut lost in orbit finding anything reminiscent of the planet he once knew. I’m lost in my head, trying to find common ground with the Devil. But as I orbit the far reaches of my head, the further I drift from home and maybe that’s a good thing, because as of late, it feels as if pain is my home. Maybe I continue the lonely orbit of therapy and medication until I find in those far reaches, a nirvana to call home. Weeks, months, years, decades, nothing is relative in my pursuit of happiness.

As humans can’t comprehend the implosion of our own galaxy. I, cannot begin to comprehend the destruction that ensues when the beautiful clockwork that is my psyche collide. And that, is why I need help. I don’t need unit 9. I have friends and family who I can not put in words my gratitude nor the love I have for them, they are my rocks. I need stability, and unfortunately these are not easy times to find it. I feel a growing weariness from Mom as well. One reminiscent of when my brother went off the deep end. The sad thing is, this growing weight on my chest is not induced by no pill, no needle, nor any substance. For with any struggle, there is amends and growth to be made, and my brother has shown me the strength of a million men in one in both recovery and bravery in the face of immeasurable odds. And I wouldn’t blame it on weed, or liquor for that matter - as I rarely drink anymore. Weed on the other hand, isn’t having any negative affect on my life. It could be teenage naivety, but I don’t smoke outside of social events, and I wouldn’t blame my tired week beginnings on weekend pot use. I’ve gone months without smoking, and even if I’m with friends that doesn’t always mean I smoke. Without my weekends, if I gave up and vegetated in my room to ‘relax’ in my Mom’s mind, it would make the weeks even drearier, and diminish the light at the end of the tunnel. I know Mom doesn’t want to take my social needs away, in fact I can see she’s proud I’ve managed to burst my own bubble, she just wants to help. But a week void of fun to me, is a pointless week indeed. A pointless week feeds tiredness, so honestly I couldn’t see myself getting out of bed any day - especially Monday.

What most close don’t realize about me is how tired I am of my old self. I wake up everyday in search of the gleam in my eye that once was. I’ve held my Nan so tight begging for my happiness back. I’ve lost touch with reality before and came back, and I’m coming back. The thing is, I want to stay in the front seat of my head this time. I expect road bumps, accidents, setbacks and breakdowns, but I now know I must pursue. How we do this is where I need help. I’m no longer afraid to admit I need aid in this journey.

Thank you for reading - godspeed.

Colby Gallant, 2018

My Beautiful, Dark, Twisted Mind