“No One Asked For This”

It’s been 21 hours since I’ve had a cigarette.  I am trying to be done with that addiction.
In order to try to keep the temptation away I’m isolating myself to my room .   I’m feeling down.

About a month ago I started a gofundme campaign to try to raise money to publish my first book of poetry…
I realize that no one is asking for more poetry, more poets, more writers, more thinkers.
That everyone is doing what they are doing, peopling their way through life & they don’t have time
for what they haven’t already made time for, for the things that are outside of our scope of how we enjoy spending our time…which means that we don’t read if we don’t want to read, we don’t watch movies if we “don’t really watch movies”, we don’t go for runs if we don’t (in some way) like to run, don’t visit our families if we can think of an excuse not to have to.
We have our families, our jobs, our bank accounts, our plans, our cat-pictures, our porn, our reality TV & our evening news, & we have bars where we can go out drinking every night & we have our phones where we can text our bros, check the weather & attempt to Netflix-n-Chill in the same 40 seconds.  Everything is immediate & no one does what they don’t want to do.
I hope the world is full of happy people, content people, people doing what they can to get exactly what they want & feeling satisfied with this (with the ideal of being able to make oneself happy & balls to the rest), because it seems to be how the Privileged Westerner (the “modern human”) operates now & will continue to do so until the end of life as we know it.

I am down because I am a full-on adult & I don’t know how to get what I want.  I know who I am (well enough) but I do not always interact with “regular people” very well & as a result I feel very alone most of the time.  I am not cute enough to be anyone’s “favorite person” the way that you hear people sitting around talking about some absent person as their “favorite”. I am not smooth.  I am not good at marketing myself.

Here is the title poem to the book that I am trying to get published…if you like it, please consider donating to the campaign to help me make this happen.

The Middle

You have been
in the middle
since birth, stuck between
this & that, born into
this tension
with everything
& the promise
of more, the promise
of whatever
you could dream up.

It turned out
to be just something
parents tell their children
& no one’s to blame
but you know that
your ancestors
burnt innocent people
as witches for making
promises like that.

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