“Soul to lease”
Life is just one big chemical reaction. Not to rob it of it’s majesty and wonder, because I also believe that the greatest beauty in all the universe is the mind capable of understanding itself and it’s own existence. We think therefore we are. But on a molecular level we are just a more complex version of what goes on in a pee-tree dish. Is that how you spell that? I don’t fucking know, I swear if it weren’t for spell-check they’d make me wear a helmet. Anyway, it is with understanding that I believe that if you put enough of a substance into your body you become partly that substance and you can take on it’s desires.
Look at vegetarians or vegans for example, I’ve never seen the headline of a newspaper read “Vegan serial-killer strikes again!” or “Vegetarian caught running an illegal gambling ring!” but there are plenty of drug addicts and meat eaters who do selfish and horrible things to themselves and others. Maybe it is just because statistically there are fewer veggies than carnivores and by proxy less noteworthy “bad apples” or maybe I’m actually on to something here. I take solace in this way of thinking because it means that the base operating system that is me, is kind and good and that once I bleed these corrupt cells from my body I will return to my natural state.
I met a killer today. A man who murdered a guy for raping his sister. I can’t say I blame him, but the wake of such a destructive choice travels like magnetic flux lines through earth, soul, mind, and bone. I was in no way aware of it even happening when it did and yet, years later as he tells me his story, I am affected, I am curious and I am scared. I imagine the man’s plea’s for mercy as the cold steal of the handgun is pressed against his head. The reapers scythe resting gently on his neck. The reaper himself, just a boy of eighteen, scared and trying to protect those he loves. All he has in this world. I am both fascinated and scared of him. His voice is soft, yet hard, like the weight of his thoughts seek to burst out from behind every word he speaks. His eyes, like fire, held my nerve captive. His body bears the scars of his own personal war, a swastika tattooed on his chest with a stab wound scar next to it and another on his back. Memories scribed in flesh from his travels to the inside of a federal penitentiary.
I am starting to settle in to a routine it seems and today has just flown by. I started making a guitar strap today during rec and rented a guitar. Which was very refreshing to play despite it’s mangled-ass state. The fucking strings on that old noise box probably came with the building and the action on the neck of it felt like trying to shove your finger through the broad side of a cardboard box. I made the most of it though.
I guess I should say a little something about my roommate. He is my height and if I had to guess I’d probably say he his around 50 years old. He claims to have a temper but I don’t see it in him. He speaks in a very unique way, almost as if he is unsure of his footing in this world. I’m not sure why but it makes me sad. Perhaps, it’s that his boyish looking frame and glasses that remind me of a younger me. And that despite all of our masks, we are still just as scared of this world and the creatures in it as we were when we’d hide our faces in mommy’s arms and wait for the storm to pass. I know I am no more important to the universe than a grain of sand but after a while, when I would peek out my little face and see mom there smiling at me, I felt like I was worth it. I forgot that somewhere along the way. I forgot that I am loved. I forgot that I am needed. I forgot that I was worth holding on to. That in my little corner of the universe I matter.
I went to my second meeting tonight and someone said something that stuck with me. The man spoke of the pressure you feel on your shoulders when you are caught in the throws of addiction as your soul floating behind you. He explained that when your body is polluted with substances your soul will not enter. It will follow you everywhere and will never abandon you but until it’s home is safe and clean it can only follow you. Restlessly waiting and hoping that one day it can return to where it belongs. I thought that was such a beautiful way to think. I’m guessing that by now, my soul has already signed the new lease to my body and I can feel his presence becoming me again. I feel again, and I suppose that’s a start.