My Words Once Had Wings

Oh the humility.  Humility is great.  Especially when you’re dealing with me.  I find myself often wondering if I have a God complex.  I almost seem to perfect.  Relax.  I know.  It’s a ridiculous notion.  I’m just sharing my feelings.  I’m not afraid to share my feelings.  I don’t pretend to not feel because it’s sexy or some gay shit.  It’s good to feel.  It’s good to let others know how you feel.  If you bottle everything up and wear a vapid smile like you’re some kind of person of mystery, you’re not fooling me.  You’re just trying to hide.

I am self conscious about things.  My size for starters.  I know I go on about being a big fat guy.  I’m not a big fat guy.  I’m a big brawny guy who is in horrible shape.  But it’s not the outofshapedness that makes me self conscious.

It’s just that I’m huge.  I’m 6’4 and 260 pounds.  People on the street either go through great pains to avoid me, or lock eyes just to let me know that I intimidate the fuck out of them but they can’t ever let that weakness show.  People are either afraid of me or they’re trying to fuck with me.

I’m not as tough as I look.  I’m sensitive.  I love the sound of wind chimes and children’s laughter.  I love pretty music and beautiful architecture.  I cry easily.  I enjoy crying.  I love it when good things happen to good people.  It breaks my heart to see a living creature hurt or dying.  I’ll go through walls to help improve the quality of life of a loved one.  I loathe bullies, and I would die to save the life of a stranger.  Hopefully one day I get the chance to prove that.

I’m working on my health right now.  It’s started with walking.  A lot.  I’m more active.  I’m gardening.  I have a beautiful new home I want to get in shape.  I take Edie out as often as possible.  I’m getting back into the gym.

I’m in rough shape.  Mentally I’m at an all-time high.  I do have problems with stress.  I can’t pinpoint the source but I have my suspicions.  The worst part is this stupid noise I make, and it makes me very self conscious.  It’s the combination of a gasp and a groan that somehow comes out sounding like a retard’s mating call.  I HATE it when I do it.  Because when I do, whoever I am with at the time will comment without fail.  I mean who the fuck wouldn’t?!

I feel as though I am being stalked by a monster.  But I am not afraid.  I just want it to rear its ugly head so I can fuck it up.  I’m not afraid of anyone.  I’m not afraid of anything.  This isn’t machismo.  This isn’t demented arrogance.  I just know my power and limitations.  I know that if there is something that I should fear, it’s not out to hurt me.  And I know that if it’s nothing to fear…  well then, I don’t fear it.

I haven’t hit it out here in a few days.  I’m not sorry.  Sometimes there is just nothing to say.  Either that, or some things are better left unsaid.  But we all know that’s bullshit.

The things better left unsaid are the best things to say.

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3 Comments so far:

  1. Swanson says:

    I’m not afraid of you or trying to fuck with you.

    However, I’ve been itching to fight lately, just for fun you see. There’s a boxing gym across the street and I’ll bet I could beat you even though I’m 138 lbs.

    You in?

  2. Swanson says:

    I too am easily moved to tears. I work in my mother’s garden and keep the weeds out for her.

    You’re in no shape to fight even if you are 122 lbs heavier than me.

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