Saturday, September 22, 2007

My Mule is Broken. I Need a Replacement.

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Sometimes, I just sit in front of my desk, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the past year's been a big-ass joke. That somewhere, out there, is me, sleeping off a hangover after a heavy night of drinking at Bruce's or Louie's. That everything was right with the world - I still had long hair, I was still a fat bastard who could take in alcohol and troubles as if he were the unbreakable Iron Man.

(funny, how I mention Iron Man in this post, since technically Tony Stark is your ultimate tragic hero; trapped in his life support system because of shrapnel in his heart for the longest time, then varying levels of death and rebirth. Real smooth, Martin Cruz. You're a genius when it comes to accidental metaphors).

But no. I'm here. I know I'm here. I told myself I'd never resolve to regret, since regret equates to something that you couldn't ever fix, and I've always prided myself in being able to fix things that I end up wrecking. But I somewhat regret 2007. It was a bad year. It still is a bad year. I've never seen so many different aspects of hardships that could mentally and emotionally tax the so-called indomitable human spirit. I've never had to deal with the problems of being the only person around to look after myself, through thick and thin. I've never been so worried about the people I left back at home, the people I love, the people I wish would love me, and the people who could make my day complete, no matter how dejecting my day had been. I've never been so lonely that I'd resort to doing what I just did the past week (and no, parents, it wasn't anything immoral; it was just monumentally stupid). I've never felt the tug of individuality, and the reason why the comforts of home could never, ever be overrated. It was a really heady learning experience, and I can only wonder how I managed to eke it out alive and sane.

Sometimes, I wish I'd just wake up a kid, in time for an episode of Batibot or maybe even that Saturday Robocop cartoon, or reruns of Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future. Times were so much simpler then.

My friend, Jon, keeps on saying that Martin is Martin. That's a fact. Martin is Strong.

Lately, I've been wondering. Am I really? Maybe what he really meant to say was, "Martin is Crazy."

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