doctor can you help?

why are we such savages? why are we filled with so much anger? so much hate? why do we compete with each other instead of working with each other? what are we all chasing? who is teaching us to chase such things? why do we allow old rich white guys to run our lives? why do we follow such outdated rules? why do we not question more? why do we allow our lives to be driven into the ground? driven into the ground with dull jobs. dull lives. dull music. dull television. dull films. dull rules. dull leaders. dull skies and dull lies. why do we stop living and start preparing for retirement when we will then, miraculously, begin to live? why do we allow our lives to be wasted? why don’t we change? can we change? are “likes” more important than substance? why are there so many selfies and what is the point of the selfie? why do girls get upset at guys for objectifying them but then their social media feed is filled with sexual bikini pics and the comments from their friends are all about their looks and their beauty? how vain are we? how narcissistic have we become? what are the ramifications of such useless feeds and useless pics filled with likes and shallow comments? what is one’s purpose in life when their social media feed is filled with sexual pics? what have we become as a society? a society of sheep and puppets filled with useless likes and useless followers. useless IG friends. useless posts. useless jokes. useless looks with duck lips and weird eyes with dog noses. why do people want to look like aliens? what do people talk about these days? where are people’s souls? where are people’s hearts? why is there such a competition amongst us all? why do men and women fight each other? why is there such anger? such hate? can men and women be friends without thinking about sex? about fucking? really? is it possible? is it okay to think it but not do it? is Catholic guilt always getting in the way of freedom? and how can you have Catholic guilt when you don’t believe in god? how fucked up is that? how many psychiatrists do I have to see before I realize that psychiatrists cannot and will not fix me? money thrown down the drain. thrown down the gutter. thrown away the way my confidence was thrown away when the old greek man molested me over thirty years ago. and where is that old greek man? he must be dead. did he die feeling guilt? did he molest anyone else? why did he do it? how did I get picked? why did I allow it? why do I feel shame? why can’t I overcome this? thirty years of psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, rehab centres, self help books, and cognitive behaviour therapy have not changed the feelings that I have about getting molested. I know that it wasn’t my fault. I know that I am a victim. I know that I have to let it go. I know all there is to know about being molested and moving on and yet I cannot move on. pretending to move on but mired in shame. mired in guilt. mired in low self esteem and low opinions of myself. the old greek man is dead. probably. he died and I am left to pick up the pieces. pick them up with laughter. with hope. with fire. with rage. with booze. with love. with shame. with fading childhood memories and a fading life. watching shitty movies about super heroes and comic book heroes while the real art is buried under fear. fear. shame. loss. guilt. busy brain. busy mind. busy hands. busy life. busy but running in quicksand. sort of like those dreams where you are running to get away from the monster but you are not moving. you’re running but not moving. the monster is getting closer and closer and closer and then you wake up in a cold sweat in a cold room. cold and barren. where? what happened? where has life gone? where is it going? when does it all make sense? children becoming adults in secure homes with secure parents and secure schools with secure friends and secure self esteem. then there are children who grow up in broken homes with broken parents and broken hopes with monsters inflicting pain on them but the monsters continue to live while the victims die slowly. mired in shame. mired in pain. putting on a brave face but always left to wonder “why?” why me? what did I do? why was there no help? trust thrown out the window of the old greek man’s car. loving everyone but trusting no one. this is not an easy task. it boggles even the best of minds. the best of souls. it boggles my mind. my soul. and then there are those kids who grow up without any pain. any loss. any abuse. happy childhood memories leading to happy university memories leading to happy marriages with happy kids and happy vacations. happiness passing on happiness to more happy people. more happy families. more happy lives and happy kids. a big community of happiness. big dinners. big cars. big vacations. big rings. big hopes. big dreams. big families. big jobs.

BIG.

BIG AND HAPPY.

BIG HAPPY LIVES.

BIG HAPPY SMILES.

BIG HAPPY HOPES.

BIG HAPPY DREAMS.

and then there is loss.

attempted suicides.

molestations.

fights.

false arrests.

broken bones.

drug and rehab centers.

lack of trust.

lack of love.

lack of help.

lack of hope.

busy mind.