Echoes of Laughter

"Did I do a life's worth of laughing in such a short time?"  -Thomas Covenant

People keep telling me about how strong I'm being...  like I'm some kind of warrior in the face of my disastrous life.  I used to think of myself that way too, a tough guy who would get stronger every time I overcame adversity.  In truth, I'm just a fool who continues to get the shit kicked out of him each day because of my stupid actions.  Every single thing wrong with me is a direct result of my failures and bad decisions.  Isn't there supposed to be more to life than pain?  Isn't there more to existence than going to bed early and waking up with a sickening, nauseous twist as you realize that you have to live through another day?  Is THAT strength?  Is forcing myself to get out of bed being strong?  Does it make me a tough guy to sleep and drink the day away?

It wasn't always this way.  I was happy once.  I found a poem I wrote once...  once upon a time when I was in another world.  I was a different person back then, and I highly doubt that I'll be that person again.  I'll post it here in the off chance that I ever lose it.  It's a relic from a special time in my life that I can't get back despite my best efforts...

Realization.

It's a wonderful thing

To have an epiphany,

Something to make you reconsider

All that you thought you knew

Yet were so blissfully unaware of.

Revelation.

You open your mind's eye

To things previously unseen,

Things that you thought obvious,

Yet here they are

Pure and unadulterated in their glory.

Inspiration.

As light dawns on your understanding,

You see how clearly

You are in love.

Yes, love.  The world's greatest feeling.

The cornerstone of wonderful things.

Dedication.

And then you realize how much you care.

You see that even on your worst of days

You'd rather be with her

Than with anyone else on their best day.

Your heart yearns to be always by her side.

Education.

Learning is an interesting process,

Especially when you think you know it all.

Where I once was sure that love stories

Were fairy tales written by fools,

I have found myself to have been utterly mistaken.

Satisfaction.

And here we come to the point to be made:

I AM LIVING a love story.  Everyday.

I can taste, touch, smell my Princess.

I need make no conquest for her love

Because it overwhelms me daily, in every way.

Gratification.

I can't even write this poem with a dry eye

Because no matter how hard I try,

I cannot find even one way

In which I am worthy to receive her.

Yet she gives herself to me over and over.

Action.

Every day I will tell her what she means

To me, as lowly a person as I am.

I literally can't tell her enough.  Ever.

Her worth cannot be measured

By any scale that mortal minds could conceive.

Resolution.

I will chase her and follow her

To the ends of the earth and back,

If that would ensure that she would be mine.

So how will this story end?  What future awaits?

The rest of this love story is ours for the telling.

And I'm feeling a sudden desire to write.

It's hard to believe that that was me.  I was high on a cloud...  invincible.  The guys at work always say that I should have been a writer.  They have no idea.  I was capable of so much...  and now here I sit, staring at a bottle of wine that I can't open because she took my corkscrew, longing to not be sober.  According to the internet, I can use a screw and a pair of pliers, but I don't even have a fucking screw.  But honestly, seeing how my life has gone lately, that's not really surprising.

Did I do a life's worth of laughing in such a short time?  Probably.  It wasn't nearly long enough.  I want to laugh again.  I'm not strong.  And I can't do this for much longer.