ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
I've lost my wallet, and with it a job interview. Not that it would have gotten me anywhere. It'd be just another failure in a line of failures stretching all the way back to the horizon behind me. Nothing looks different ahead, except I don't see those failures yet. But after going on for so long, I have no idea what success even looks like anymore.
I was supposed to go to a job interview this morning, but without my driver's license I can't drive. And without my driver's license, I have no identification, which is something they needed me to bring. Thank you, life, for showing me just one more way things can go wrong. It hardly even hurts. It's just, you know, informative.
Some people mark the passage of time by weekends, or holidays, or paychecks, or birthdays. My marker is indignity. Every so often I drum up enough effort to try again. And every time so far it's pointless. I've come to almost enjoy these marking times. What new low shall I sink to next? I kind of feel something almost like purpose in being the speed bump in other peoples' lives. I feel not like I'm beating a dead horse, but that I am being beaten like a dead horse. That's why it's a phrase, isn't it? "You're beating a dead horse," they say. Surely people beat dead horses because they like to, don't they? Every time I fail, someone, somewhere, must be enjoying it. And that, I feel... feels... right. I don't just accept it; it gives me hope. That maybe, by stepping on me, someone will end up higher.
I am the dead horse. I am getting beaten. Dead horses don't feel pain. Sure, my eyes are leaking, but that's just something they do, sometimes. Sometimes the wind blows. Sometimes the sun shines. Sometimes the rain falls. Sometimes I can't get out of bed. Sometime, hopefully soon, I'll stop skidding from this crash landing of an existence and come to rest indefinitely. I'm sure that in the cosmic sense nothing of value will be lost. I doubt anyone can even conceive of some kind of material value in me unless they also possess the necessary technology to resuscitate me. As a favor to those who still wish for me to exist in some fashion, I continue breathing, and occasionally eating. But you know what, I think maybe I might be getting the hang of being a dead horse.
...
Huh. I'm hungry.
Better get used to it.
I was supposed to go to a job interview this morning, but without my driver's license I can't drive. And without my driver's license, I have no identification, which is something they needed me to bring. Thank you, life, for showing me just one more way things can go wrong. It hardly even hurts. It's just, you know, informative.
Some people mark the passage of time by weekends, or holidays, or paychecks, or birthdays. My marker is indignity. Every so often I drum up enough effort to try again. And every time so far it's pointless. I've come to almost enjoy these marking times. What new low shall I sink to next? I kind of feel something almost like purpose in being the speed bump in other peoples' lives. I feel not like I'm beating a dead horse, but that I am being beaten like a dead horse. That's why it's a phrase, isn't it? "You're beating a dead horse," they say. Surely people beat dead horses because they like to, don't they? Every time I fail, someone, somewhere, must be enjoying it. And that, I feel... feels... right. I don't just accept it; it gives me hope. That maybe, by stepping on me, someone will end up higher.
I am the dead horse. I am getting beaten. Dead horses don't feel pain. Sure, my eyes are leaking, but that's just something they do, sometimes. Sometimes the wind blows. Sometimes the sun shines. Sometimes the rain falls. Sometimes I can't get out of bed. Sometime, hopefully soon, I'll stop skidding from this crash landing of an existence and come to rest indefinitely. I'm sure that in the cosmic sense nothing of value will be lost. I doubt anyone can even conceive of some kind of material value in me unless they also possess the necessary technology to resuscitate me. As a favor to those who still wish for me to exist in some fashion, I continue breathing, and occasionally eating. But you know what, I think maybe I might be getting the hang of being a dead horse.
...
Huh. I'm hungry.
Better get used to it.
Open Letters to Celestia - #38
Dear Princess Celestia, I don't know where I left off, so picking up from there is perhaps an order too tall. Frankly, pausing to read back feels like it would just be a stalling maneuver, and I have had far too many of those for one lifetime already. I even feel uncertain as to exactly what I should write, because I am so rusty... but I have long since decided that it is high time I made an attempt. Here goes nothing, Your Majesty. I've been working at a company for whom I am rather fond since roughly May 2018. The previous place didn't work out for a multitude of reasons. Seems I am prone to giving myself a kind of self-inflicted Stockholm Syndrome as a survival mechanism when I have to deal with people who do not have my interests at heart, let alone my best ones. Is that so rare, actually? I feel as though I've seen similar sentiments from many people. This position I work now feels fundamentally different, however, as the so-called "honeymoon phase" never ended for me. I am
Open Letters to Celestia - #37
Dear Princess Celestia,
I struggle with finding a place to begin. Years have passed and they haven’t been kind. there’s been a lot on my plate on and off, and I’m not doing as well as I thought I’d be, even though upon looking at my past there have been far darker times for me than these. I remember contemplating drastic actions that would have caused a great deal of harm. Thankfully, my exercise of attempting to reframe my regrets from an angle of gratitude rushes in - I’m glad I didn’t follow the darkest paths available.
I passingly thought, “would that i could be writing to you of gladder tidings
Open Letters to Celestia - #36
Dear Princess Celestia,
It's funny how positive I was in the last letter only for things to take the most severe dip they ever had in years. And yet, somehow I'm writing you from an even better place right now, your majesty. I had some rough patches start to accumulate as the month of April wore on. Certain proclivities of certain people at my job crossed some kind of threshold that I always knew was there, but never knew the specific location of, until it was behind us. A line was crossed. I can sum up the entirety of April as follows:
Pressure mounted, and with the help of my sister we did not crack under pressure but rather shined. I l
Open Letters to Celestia - #34
Dear Princess Celestia,
... There have been some developments since last I wrote you. Life goes on. For once, however, I do feel as though I've gotten somewhere. There are a few ways in which I've somehow managed to wrest control of my life back into my own hooves. Some of these ways are controversial, but the fact that they work despite certain sources of friction even coming from people who care about me very much only seems to further confirm to me the efficacy of my methods.
There is something I'm doing now that I haven't ever before... getting to a healthier point, physically, than I have ever had prior in my adult life. Since february
© 2014 - 2024 Cyclone-Dusk
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In