Ramblings at 2 AM

Maybe it's because it's late and I'm tired, maybe it's because they put a little bit too much rum in my rum and coke at BJ's...but my mind is a whirl right now.  My heart is full of emotions it's never felt before.  I've never had to deal with loneliness and rejection before.  I've always been with someone or had someone who's cared for me and who is there to talk to me when I really need it.  

I'm now at a point in my life to where I really don't have anyone.  And I'm not asking you to be a someone.  I don't just let people in.  I am an open book, to an extent.  "Constantly talking isn't necessarily communicating," good quote, amazing movie.  But when it comes down to the nitty gritty, the things that make me truly me, I rarely talk about those things to anyone.  My struggles, my hardships, my scars, they all pretty much stay locked up unless I feel I can really trust you.  But it's gotten to the point to where I don't trust anyone that much.  Everyone who I once trusted is abandoning me.  I can no longer confide in friends who I've been able to confide in.  

Loneliness and I have never been friends.  We've never spent enough time together to really get to know each other.  I'm sure he likes me though...but I'm not quite sure how I feel about him.  He feeds off my emotional turmoil, I swirl out of control in a whirlwind of sadness, contempt and trepidation...not exactly a balanced relationship.  

I'm trying to listen and learn to what God wants for me right now.  Patience, a dependence on Him, a revelation that I don't need a relationship to be happy, whatever it might be, I want to be receptive towards it.  I don't want to ignore it and suffer through the pain for the fun of it.  I hate this part though....when you ask God to break you, you often times don't mean it.  But a lot of the time God knows exactly how you need to be broken and he doesn't care if you think you're ready or not because the truth of the matter is, you're never going to think you're ready.

A broken soul, a broken heart, a broken vessel I am.  I am not a quitter though.  I will not give up every time my chest threatens to explode and the sweat drips from my face.  No, I will not quit because my whole body becomes inflamed in a torrent of worthlessness and abandonment.  I will fight this war raging on the inside of my head and heart, and I will arise victorious.  

Inevitable

I started writing this way back in October of last year.  It was a way to vent my emotions in a creative channel.  This might be completely stupid, or it might actually turn into something.  Regardless, here is the prologue to the book I'm attempting to write.  Let me know what you think.

Inevitable

By Casey Jack

Prologue, November 30^th, 2015

You know that sinking feeling in your stomach, the feeling that the inevitable is eating the walls of your insides one inch at a time?  This feeling is my friend.  We know each other very well and have been spending a lot of time together lately.  He knows what makes me happy and he knows what makes me utterly depressed.  He seems to feed on the latter.  He makes it apparent to me, that I know nothing.  He makes it known that I cannot control where life takes me. 

When the person you love is separated by land and sea, the world seems to simply travel by you.  You don’t move an inch but all around you miles upon miles of life have passed you by.   This leads us to the question then: what is the inevitable?  The inevitable is this: I will never be with the one I love.

“If you have something to say, say it now.”  Those were the last words Adah spoke to me.  I love you! I always have! Since the first day I saw you smile I’ve loved you.  There hasn’t been a single day since we met that I haven’t thought of you.  You are my past, present and future, I need you like the moon needs the night.  You are my snowflake on Christmas morning.  “No, I have nothing else to say,” was my reply. 

It’s been almost six months now since that day.  Nothing has changed for me.  Well nothing when it came to Adah.  My heart still longs for her, my body still aches for her.  I can’t go through a single day without thinking of the long nights we’d spent together.  Talking until three in the morning, putting on the same movie we watched more than 100 times.  Then simply falling asleep in each other’s arms.  But that was six months ago.  A lot had changed for me in those six months.

I’ve been living under a bridge in New York now for the past week.  Being a “Gray Matter” wasn’t an easy life.  A Gray Matter, I’ve found out, is a person who is like me, a person who has unlocked, by one way or another, the mental powers that everyone naturally possesses.  It’s said that people only used 10% of their brainpower.  This is not true.  The truth of it is that people use almost 100% of their brainpower; mostly it’s about 96%.  The extra 4% is the part of the brain where these mental powers are found.  Most people who discover they have these telepathic/telekinetic powers merely stumble across them.  Some people spend years trying to unveil these powers. 

I stumbled upon mine when I was 13 years old.  Talk about the coolest discovery ever!  I was a 13 year-old super hero!  It took me about a year to discover all of my powers.  I could move things with my mind, I could sense other people’s minds (although I could never get the hang of actually reading them) and probably the coolest of all, I could teleport.  I never really had any friends so I didn’t have anyone to tell.  I’d seen enough movies and read enough comic books to know, though, that telling people you had a super hero power was the worst idea; you have to keep your identity a secret!  So I did.

Gray Matter was a term coined by a secret division of the United States Government, specifically in the CIA.  The Department of Post Intellectual Regulation and Administration, or the DPIRA, was the branch that dealt with Gray Matters.  The DPIRA did not punish people who had discovered their powers.  They merely limited them, told them how to use their powers.  They would only punish those who did other than they were told.  To my knowledge, there were less than 100 GMs in the country.  We all had different strengths when it came to our powers and I’d only come across one other GM in my life. 

Her name was Nancy Whitmer.  She was 86 years old and was living in a Retirement Community in Miami, Florida.  I met her when I was on vacation with my family the summer before I moved to California.  She had an aptitude in telepathy.  She could read people’s minds like they were children’s books.  She could also tell if there was another GM around or if a DPIRA agent were near.  She could easily block her mind to anyone who tried to enter it.  She found me on a beach near her community and as soon as I saw her, I knew I had found another GM.  She slowly walked over to me, bent down and whispered into my ear, “If you love her, let her go.  She’ll never be happy, especially with someone as talented as you.”  And with that she walked off into the sunset.  I never knew what she was talking about, up until six months ago.

So now I was sitting, under a bridge, in the middle of the night, with nothing but a trash can fire to keep me company.  The DPIRA had told me that I could only use my powers in private; no one could find out that I had powers...no one.  That was their one rule for me.  I was on the run now because I had broken that one rule.  I had broken that one rule to protect the one person I loved.  That person now hated me.