A Well-Deserved Word Vomit

Hello, again. I guess it’s been long enough since whenever it was that I wrote last, so here it is: a word vomit post.

I feel like it’s been forever since I wrote here, let alone remembered I had a blog thing, so maybe I should reintroduce myself, just so we’re all on the same page. My name is Queer Montague, but I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’d find the name the government refers to me as. I like to think of myself as a “writer” but I don’t have anything published to my name, let alone spend enough time actually writing. I also think I’m a poet, a playwright, a storyteller, but since the world decided to shut down, I’ve just been trapped in my own head because it seems to be easier than existing anyplace else. Depression has made me its bitch, and I guess I don’t have the courage to disobey. So, here I am.

A little life update, so I can give some appropriate backstory to this tragedy: my oldest brother was killed in a car wreck nearly eight months ago, and I still don’t know how to handle it, so I just push it to the back of my brain. People always say it gets easier with time, and I know that’s a damned lie. It doesn’t get easier to deal with, I just get better at hiding how it affects me. Even though it still feels like it happened yesterday.

And everything I had as an anchor in my life, everything I thought I could depend on when I thought I had nothing else, is gone. When I was a moody teenager, silently rebelling against the world, I thought I would always have certain things to fall back on when shit got rough. For example: music, because I always had my headphones in to block out the world; friends, because I thought I’d always have those and now I have none of those; a group I associated with my depression getting better, but turns out it wasn’t mine to love and I can’t love them the way I want to because it was never mine to love at all; spending those good moments with people who loved me for me, but that’s a lie because nobody loves me and I can’t help but think all of those people never liked me and that the only reason they did like me was because I could be used for their benefit and gain – everything I once knew, all of those rocks I thought I could use as support, that I thought I would always have – all of it is gone. Everything is changing. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older, and change is inevitable, but I hate it all the same.

I have to put on a mask to exist now. With everybody who I encounter. I’ve lost too many people to take it as a learning curve. Maybe it’s just me. But I can’t lower my guard because I don’t want to get hurt again. So, as long as I wear a mask and put up some fake face, I won’t experience the pain and fear again.

As Bella Swan said in that cheesy sparkly vampire flick, maybe I, too, am one of those “suffer in silence types.” A lone wolf or something. And as much as I can look back and laugh, it really does hurt to look back and see point blank how much I’ve lost, how much I don’t have now, and see what I’ll never get back.

I’m lost in limbo, and as much as people suggest shit like “find a new hobby”, “go for a walk when you’re stressed”, or “meet new people by putting yourself out there”, nothing is going to be like it was, when I was a sad teenager and thought the world was against me, when in reality, I would give my entire soul to just go back there to that time. Because when teenage me was sad then, that poor kid really had it all.

So, what is next? What do I have to look forward to? What is the deal breaker that is going to make me keep the lights on?

Will we ever know?

I don’t know. And I don’t know if any of that made a lick of sense, but I guess tha’t just the way my brain has developed. I feel trapped, I’m afraid of change, and I just want to go back in time.

If you have any advice to give, please don’t give it. I probably won’t follow it because everything scares me. I just want things to go back to the way it was. Insert that “shit, go back” button meme.

Well, until the next time I feel like actually “writing” something to appease my 2015 blogger phase, peace out and take an extra nap.

QM

New Year Ramblings

Holy man, it’s the new year already.

I don’t really know how to feel about it. This past year has been one hell of a speed bump that I would like to never relive again.

I can’t really remember what happened up until September, but after that, that’s when my life took a turn I wish it hadn’t of taken. My oldest brother was killed in a car wreck. He was twenty nine. He was just about to start a new job, and he seemed haply about it. He’d been having troubles with his vices, and I think he was so far into his substances that this new job was a light at the end of the tunnel. He was going to get better.

And it sucks. It really does. He made some questionable choices in life, but he did not deserve to go out like that. Nobody deserves that. He didn’t deserve to get taken out that way. He was trying to better himself. He never led on how bad his addictions were, yet he used them as a crutch. He was so engulfed in them that he was starting to lose who he was. But this new job, he was actually excited for. Being unemployed for a few months because of personal reasons, and also with the call of his addictions, this was a step in the right direction.

His “friends” who knew him in the addictive community probably wouldn’t think much of him, and how he went out. But, and I don’t care what anybody ever says, he did not deserve what he got.

Then, in early December, my great uncle lost a long battle with cancer. He was ninety. As much as all the signs were leading up to the end, it didn’t make it any easier. He was about to start radiation therapy, because his vitals were good. The next morning, he was tired and not as well, and then there was nothing.

That’s the biggest “fuck you” thing about it: he was starting to do better. He was looking up, he was starting to get his energy back. But then, it went downhill, and it went that way incredibly fast.

And now it’s January.

I feel like time has been flying by, and now it’s 2023, and it came out of nowhere. And I feel empty. Just… deflated. My head hurts all the time, I have to fight back the tears, and if I sit idle too long, my brain starts replaying everything back, reminding me that my brother and great uncle are no longer amongst the living.

It really sucks. Christmas felt fake, like those Hallmark movies: all put on for the sake of holding up a facade. It’s all a stage performance parading as real life.

I don’t know what the future is going g to look like. And the more I try to picture it, the more my head hurts. So I’m not going to look that far.

I’d like to say I hope happier times are ahead, but I don’t even believe that. I just want my brother and my great uncle back. I think that’s the old thing that will make me truly happy.

So. I guess I’ll just leave off by saying this: this is where I am right now, and I guess all I can do is take life one minute at a time. Because everything can change so quick.

QM

A Rant In May

Hello, hello.

Last time, I said I hope that the next time I write, it’ll be about something better.

Not too sure if that’ll be the case, but here goes nothing….

Honestly, nothing much has happened since last time. I just remembered I had a blog, and my brain went, “You should update that.” Not that there’s many reading this, but I guess it will just give me good piece of mind.

I’m still working my “nine to five” because I’m broke. Everything blurs together. The world around me makes me not want to be a part of it. I haven’t written anything consistent or passionately in probably quite a few months. And, I don’t even know if I’ll ever get back into writing long-term.

I used to be about screenplays and playscripts – putting into words what would make a great scene. Like, all of the details and little aesthetics. I love building up stories like that. But, I paused writing things like that at the beginning of the year – unintentionally and subconsciously – and I just haven’t gotten back into it. It’s a terrible writer’s block, I guess, and it won’t go away. I can write small snippets every now and again, but it never adds up and never sticks. And, after a piece is written, I forget about it almost instantly.

When it’s not memorable, it’s beginning to die.

I think I just don’t want to write something I deeply love, and let it sit and collect dust, which is my ultimate fear. So, that alone stops me from continuing, because I get stuck on the notion of “what is the point.”

I really do want to change that way of thinking. But I’m not sure when that will be; for the past week or so, I’ve been trying to bring works-in-progress with me wherever I go, in case I get a few seconds to scribble in them. That’s an alright first step. But, so far, nothing sticks.

Anyways, that about sums up my life in a sob story, at least for a while.

Most likely, I’ll forget to write for a long while, because that always seems to be the case. This used to be a short story blog, and now it’s just for rants that don’t make much sense.

I apologize.

Until the next post, whenever and whatever that may be, peace.

QM

New Year Word Vomit

Hello, again.

It’s currently January 25th of 2022, and it’s almost six at night. I have a late night shift, and it’s the eighth shift in a row. Tomorrow and the day after are my two days off, then an early shift the next day….

But let’s not talk about that.

I really don’t know what I want to talk about. I feel tired, and for the past few days I’ve been lost in the depths of my head. The all-too-familiar symptoms of depression has been setting in, as much as I wish they weren’t. I’m trying to dig myself out of it, but I’m just too tired lately. The constant “go go go” of work hasn’t been helping any. But I need money to live.

Into other news, I started working on a playscript that I haven’t really touched in over a year. I fixed a few plot holes, may have found a few new ones…. The project has been nice, but then the demons come back in my brain and whisper profanities there. Still, I think just the act of doing something has helped me a bit.

I constantly want to sleep. I’m tired all the time. I’m wondering when I’ll be happy. It’s all weird feeling. I don’t know the right way to explain it.

Other than that, nothing much has changed. I’m doing best to not get lost in my own head, but it just feels hard sometimes. I’m managing. I’m just… tired. I’m just really tired.

Sorry, I thought this rant was going to be longer, but it isn’t. I’m working a lot, I’m tired all the time, and all I ever feel like doing is sleep. And thinking of words is getting strenuous when tired.

Hopefully I can write something more interesting next time. Until then, be safe, and peace.

QM

End of the Year Rant

Hello. I haven’t really written in a hot minute…. Not much of an excuse, but it’s the best I got.

Anyways, onto why I’m actually writing here today: I would like to dump a bit of a rant on here. Not my favorite blog topics, but I think once I word vomit it could let me be more creative for other stories and writings. (At least, I hope.)

It’s the end of the year. More specifically, it’s the end of a really shit year. And the news keeps getting more and more stressful the longer it’s watched. So, I don’t really watch the news much. People tell me about things, or I see an article shared around the social medias.

I’m not working as much as I was working earlier this year. But looking back, I think I’m doing alright: I left a job I loathed, met some new people while I was there, and started another job where I was working more often and getting a steadier income. It wasn’t glamorous or anything, but it was nicer than working at a shithole I hated. Now, the hours have decreased a bit, but I’m glad. I like the break. I enjoy it.

I’ve had my depressive moments, and by “moments”, I pretty much mean the whole year. It went by so quickly and so drastically that I can’t really differentiate each month from the next. But now, here in December, I feel content moving forward. Hopefully, as a goal for next year, I can make more moments memorable.

I’m hoping also to force myself to make some bigger decisions. I’m twenty four, and my behavior is one of a kid in high-school. I’m scared of the real world, yet I’ve been in it for six years.

My biggest goal for the future, above all big and scary grown up decisions, will ultimately to be happy. Be everlasting in my happiness. Bring loved ones with me in that. Share the love. Show my peace. Don’t drop anchor.

It’s almost tomorrow now. Hopefully, this positivity can stay with me a little while longer.

There is probably so much more to rant about. There’s always more. But, since this word vomit kind of turned positive, let’s leave it off here.

To all those reading this: please, be safe, be well, and peace.

QM