owning your burdens.

“...be one of those people that dumps mine on somebody else.”

If only.

Beer before liquor, never sicker? Well, sometimes you don't have anything else on hand to fucking drink, you asshole.

I fucking suck at writing stories. I've tried to tell them over and over and maybe only ever written one that I would be comfortable signing my name to. But fuck it; sentence-structure-be-damned, here I go.

Today was monotonous. Unimportant. Mundane. Ubiqui-fucking-tous.

Today was just that:

today.

Well, I guess what made it somewhat different is that it was my first week going back to school after spending a good two months doing nothing. And no, that is not an exaggeration or some artful metaphor. I did absolutely, fucking, nothing.

And god, was it great.

But now here I was, having to go back to being a human being that was at least somewhat-worthy of the air he so he happened to breathe. Yet, though it was what I would call "the correct decision," apparently the world thought otherwise! It hand-picked these past few days to throw everything it could at me, including a bit of sodomization with the kitchen sink, and then went on to horribly teabag me with every ounce of responsibility I had been trying so hard to keep up with.

My classes were shit.

I dropped them so I could at least find ones where I would learn something but nah, fuck that. Everyone else was doing that too; something I should have expected really.

My computer was shit.

Now that I actually needed it to do work? My internet and everything from TCP/IP to the fucking letter "c" on my keyboard broke. Of course, this was ALL within the span of two days. Wonderful.

So I was in a mood, you could say. I was riding on the rag (as much as was possible for a guy at least,) and I needed a good drink.

I had no money. I had either lost my last bottle of whiskey or gotten so drunk I had finished it without even remembering I suppose, hah! I had recently sworn off recreational drugs, so that was an obvious no-no. I decided to head downstairs to ask my sister if I could once again mooch whiskey off of her.

And when I stepped foot downstairs it sort of all hit me at once. Like a boxer faking a jab when really giving you a hook that would put roofies to shame. Like god giving Sodom a bitch-slap so hard it simultaneously brought Gomorrah to its knees.

It was nothing really. Subtle like nothing else. But it was there. Maybe I was odd to even notice it (I doubt anyone else would have, really.) I have no idea if it was maybe a tiny crinkle in her forehead I had never seen before. I don't know if it was just a small difference in the gaps between each of her words.But something inside me told me just what I had coming to me, and oh man, I've had it coming for far too long.

"Dude, get a fucking grip. And some perspective you dick."

Of course, she said none of this, or even remotely happened to be thinking it, but I heard the message loud and clear.

What the fuck was I even thinking. Problems? Shit. What problems?

Here was my sister. She was going through a bitch of a divorce (not that there are ever really any beautiful, unicorny-ones, but it was still quite horrid.)

Here was a woman trying so fucking hard, not just for her but for for her entire family, just to hold her shit together; while NOPE! Here was love on one side and life on the other both doing their damnedest to her tear her ass to shreds.

And then there was my niece. A recent attendee of that wonderful existential crisis we like to call the state of being a teenager. She was in a shit-colored-world like all teenagers are, and on top of it all her mother was splitting up with her ("step", but i don't really think that part of the story matters much, i.e. deadbeat-real-dad-isn't important-at-all-in-my-not-so-humble-opinion-etc)-dad which just made the whole thing just a disaster really.

And not only that, I mean don't want to say too much about it because it's not my place really, but I'll just say she sometimes sees a therapist like I do, yet I feel like I am the only one who actually is trying to completely support her on this incredibly tenuous front. It's a tightrope really, it's just spending your days trying to tread that line between maybe being ok for once.

My sister has way too much to deal with already to give this the attention I feel it warrants, so I could hardly blame her for that, but the rest of my family seemed to think therapy was only really useful for murderers and sex offenders.

I mean shit; god-forbid maybe some of us a just need a little help, but apparently you are either fine or bat-shit-crazy. Fuck ambiguity, huh? Damn those money-hungry headshrinkers to hell!

So yeah, here I was, having this fucking pretentious-ass soliloquy write itself in my head. Yeah, I felt guilty for caring so much about my problems when really, they weren't shit. Yeah, I was a having a bad day, but it was still one that so many other people would call the best day of their lives. Yet, fuck it, I was human. So I asked, I drank, and I existed. Thus, here I am writing.

Yeah, maybe I'm an unappreciative shit for still trying to drown myself in numb when other have it so much worse. Maybe I'm just a regular, run-of-the-mill shit, really. But fuck it. I'm human after all.

I'm here at 5:41 AM, drunk.

I'm here at 5:42 AM, with class in five hours.

I'm here at 5:43 AM, drunk

I'm here at 5:44 AM, with problems so big I don't even remember what they were anymore.

I'm here at 5:45 AM, drunk.

I'm here at fuck-o-clock AM, human.

So here's to you, the unappreciated.

Here's to you; the people who unflinchingly carry problems that would make Atlas cry himself to sleep.

Oh, and here's to sleep of, course. Mostly to that sleep that stands you up on the nights you need him the very most.

Here's to another night, morning, day, afternoon, and night once more.

Here's to god; asleep through it all.

But most of all, here's to you guys that someone, inhumanly, own your burdens like I never could.

Everyone has burdens, and maybe I'm not strong enough yet to be someone that can carry them alone, but you are.

Everyone has their burdens.

And I wish for nothing more than to be like you, the ones who know this.

The ones who, because of this fact, decide they don't want to lump them on everyone else. Because everyone has weak moments. Everyone feels that weight at some point, no matter how strong you are.

Everyone wants someone to lean on. Yet, believe me when I say, not many are the ones willing to be the leaned on. So thank you, sincerely,

for owning your burdens.

Hopefully, maybe one day I'll be able to as well.

“I think owning your burdens is half the battle. Still, it’s not that daunting if you look around and see what other people have to deal with.”