Paying Homage To Ghosts
I’ve lived a thousand different lives, or at least at times it feels that way. I can’t say that they have all been the best lives, but they’ve all had their memorable moments and all have had their consistencies. Some may say I’ve been reckless, lacked goals and am going nowhere. To a degree, I cannot fault them. I’ve only wanted to live and experience life, maybe have someone to grow old with and die with some dignity. Not a lot to ask for, but harder to maintain than one would think.
I like to reflect on things to see if there is any form of improvement or to see how I can improve myself as a person. In doing so it seems like life is measured in tiny increments of pain at times. Just one traumatic and painful experience after another. Allow me to digress and talk about pain for a second and then I will get back to the point. The more pain you experience and the higher the threshold you will have. A prime example is when I severely burned both arms in a work accident. After enduring that, things like a punch in the mouth seemed rather painless. This also works on a mental level as well. So anyways, when life is measured in painful experiences it’s easy to think you are doing fine because you are just used to being jaded and your tolerance is ever increasing. Sure, both body and mind take a toll, but you fool yourself constantly and you think that things can only get better from here.
It’s been almost exactly one year since my departure from the states to the lovely island of Puerto Rico. I like it here. It’s lawless and enchanting in ways words cannot describe. It feeds my craving for carnage, decadence and lust. Much like a child with ADHD taking Ritalin, the overwhelming amounts of my vices seem to balance me out. I need balance. Always have and always will. But this beautiful tropical island is also like jail cell; albeit the most lavish cell I have ever had the privilege to sit in. I came here knowing few people. I still don’t have that many friends here. It’s awkward at times do to culture and language differences. So a lot of times I am left to just reflect on my past.
When I first came to visit this island it was on my honeymoon. When the marriage dissolved and failed I went on a downward spiral. I couldn’t take life in NYC anymore. It was becoming intolerable and my behavior was rather repugnant at times. An offer to move to PR came at an opportune time and I snatched it. I thought it was great as I had a handful of friends there and could just start over. I also moved here because while my marriage had failed, I had great memories of being a young man in love. If I may only experience this feeling once then I should at least do my best to remember the good times.
Living is much like an exposed raw nerve. So many exquisite sensations all at once. Over time you become accustomed to it. But you shouldn’t forget what built your tolerance; the good or the bad. If the world goes into eternal darkness, I can at least say I felt the sun on my face. If the the water runs dry and lands become barren, I can at least say I swam in the oceans and laid in the shade of a tree. If I may never love again, I can at least remember what was like to wake up to a pretty face and believe in forever. I’ve felt the bitter cold of winter and a ton of hardships as well. It’s all easy come and easy go. What’s important is that you pay homage to your ghosts.