WHY BOTHER?

I ask you: why do I even bother?

I write a blog. No one reads it. Why do I even bother? What do I hope to gain?

Please excuse my pessimism. I apologize-- it's just that I've gotten used to watching smart people make stupid choices; I've become enured to good people with deep flaws making horrible decisions, whether it be commitment to loveless marriages out of insecurity, tolerating abuse because of lack of self-esteem, or giving in to impulses that leave them weak and confused.

My only prayer to God, if he even exists, is that he quickly and thoroughly destroy this infernal disease-ridden world, that he incinerate his creation with the speed with which he rendered it possible. If it means that I have to go along with it, then so be it-- a small price to pay for balancing the universe.

I don't know what to say anymore. I am speechless. I am without any hope. And why? Because I cannot begin to understand why some people do the things they do. It makes no sense to me at all. It is difficult for me to find the beauty when all I am witness to is the ugliness.

My experience has made me cynical, nihilistic. But what is there to believe in? Love? Don't make me laugh-- it doesn't exist. People respond to their primal urges, their ape-like fears, their hard-wired behavioral patterns... they do not respond to reason, to logic, to rationale thought. Instead, they subscribe to the darkest reservoirs of their heart's pathetic desires. They love out of fear, which is not love at all-- it is submission. They create their own miseries, they wallow in their own inadequacies.

It's all a fucking fraud. Don't tell me that I'm wrong, because even you, with your hand wrapped lovingly in your partner's, with your head in the clouds giddy due to the elation that comes with closing your mind, know deep in your heart that I am speaking an undeniable truth: there is no love, only sickness.

What else to believe in? Justice? In a country like ours, where an illiterate, alcoholic frat boy is crowned President, despite the wishes of the governing people? Where the same dysfunctional rich kid can order your fathers, brothers, sons and daughters to die in the desert sun so that his lackeys can line their pockets? Is this the justice that you speak of? All I see is brutality. All I see is tyranny. And all I sense is that people want to be taken out of one box and locked inside another.

Maybe there's a belief in Liberty then? What Liberty? The liberty to oppress others, to impose our wills upon them until they heed our calls? There is no Liberty, nor is there Fraternity. There is only personal greed and self-delusion.

Yeah, you can say that I've had it up to HERE. You could safely say that.

I ask you: why do I bother?

Six hours ago, I sat with Eve in the Garage, smoking a cigarette. We were taking a break. She was checking her cel phone messages. Then, she asked me for a smoke. She paused for effect, then said to me:

"What would you say if you were with someone for nine years, and then broke up with them, only to have them harass you until you got a restraining order on them, which they violated by breaking into your brother's house and vandalizing his stuff? And what would you say if you knew you had the evidence to put him away and make your brother happy, the same brother who is willing to disown his own sister if she doesn't call the police and report what this guy has done?"

I felt a headache coming on. So this is it, I thought to myself. This is the night. She has chosen to tell me the whole ugly story much sooner than I expected. And I'm not prepared.

My guard had been let down. All the work, the celebrating of Paulie's birthday, the reconnecting on neutral terms had worn down my resistance. I figured it would be okay to show a little humanity. I was still cautious and wary, but I figured that it would be a long time before she and I had to sit down and get things off of our chests.

Paulie had to go have dinner with his folks, so we left the Garage early. Eve and I agreed to go to IHOP, eat some breakfast, and talk. Big fucking mistake on my part.

We sat down. I ordered the same breakfast that I always order: two scrambled eggs, two strips of bacon, wheat toast, hash browns, and a cup of coffee. Eve ordered pumpkin pancakes.

She told me more details: how The Man Who Took My Place beat her mercilessly for three hours, which resulted in the restraining order; how she didn't press any charges against him; how he continues to violate the restraining order and stalk her; how all she has to do is call the cops and they'll have a case; and how hard it is for her to do that.

I was speechless. I couldn't believe my ears. I didn't know what to say to all of that being dumped on me in one fell swoop. I shook my head, I closed my eyes. I didn't say anything-- at this point, nothing I say matters. It all rests with her, and she is confused and scared and wounded.

She probably doesn't think that I understand the pain she is going through, but I do. I know what it is like to love someone who has repeatedly done you wrong. My relationship with my father is like that-- he taught me right from wrong, and instilled a strong work ethic in me, and a sense of morality... but he also molested several of my preteen cousins for years on end, and even after he was finally exposed for the hypocrite he was, my mother didn't send him to jail where a child molester like him would be cell-meat in 60 seconds.

I never understood why she spared him that fate. I mean, she still hates him, for what he did, for what a scumbag he has been. But she didn't deliver the death blow-- she didn't put him away, she didn't send him up the river. Even the mother of one of my cousins, my very own aunt-- she didn't throw the book at him, and it was HER DAUGHTER that he tried to rape, when she was only 8 years old.

When I got into that fight with him last year, I was unleashing the rage of over a decade of pain and heartache. Every punch I landed was for a person he had wronged, for the family that he destroyed through his sick actions, for the times when he beat me mercilessly and I was unable to defend myself. When I had him in that headlock, I probably would've snapped his head from his neck, had not my stepmother and stepsister intervened.

When I was 19 and living with my father, I would sometimes go into his room and load his rifle. I would stand at the foot of his bed as he slept, and I would pray to God for the courage to pull the trigger and end that motherfucker's life right then and there. I would've served my time for my crime, if it meant that I could be free of his curse. I was ready to throw my life away for a moment of symbolic freedom.

That's what no one understands about me-- I have lived in that dark place of the mind, that dank cellar of hatred and anger. I lived there for a long time. There was no light in that cellar, there was no hope. There was only the wish for death and destruction. I wanted to burn down the world around me, because it was useless and rotting from the inside. I found no values worth keeping, no ideas worth preserving.

Even though I no longer live in that dark place, it still lives inside of me. And when Eve told me about what that Dick had done to her, I remembered how I saw that fucking weasel on the bus about a month ago. And I remember that I saw him too late, and that I felt stupid for not noticing him on the bus before he got off at his stop. I used to run into him all the time, when I worked at the other radio network. He was afraid of me-- he thought I was going to kick his ass. It used to make me laugh, how he would cross the street when he saw me coming around the corner.

As she related these things to me, all I could think about was how, if I'd known then what I know now, I would've beaten that kid to within an inch of his life. In broad daylight. It wouldn't make any difference to me. And I know that, if I should run into him again, he doesn't stand a fucking chance.

But that's just my feelings towards him. I haven't even dealt with how disappointed I am in Eve for being so weak. And at the same time, I understand why she doesn't want to have him locked up-- it's like those abused wives on shows like COPS. Their husbands beat them black-and-blue, but when the police show up they defend their men to the very end. The cops can't do anything about it except to issue a warning. It's a waste of time for the cops, and it is just another chapter in the continuing evidence of humanity's pointlessness.

I told myself that I wasn't going to judge her. And for the most part, I kept my judgements to myself. But that meant long, drawn-out silences at the table, as I weighed the things she had just told me in my own mind. I told myself that I would only listen, that I wouldn't give any advice. But eventually I ended up telling her that she should side with her family, because you just don't go against family.

She knows I'm right, but she feels sympathy for this twerp who beat her to a pulp. And yet, when I offered to pay for breakfast, she didn't want to take my money-- she said to me, "I don't need your pity."

Okay, Eve-- you don't want my pity? Then you will not get it. Maybe this is the wake-up call I needed. I mean, I'm glad that I made a choice to try and mend things between us, but my original goal was to eventually exorcise her from my life. And if she is still making BONEHEADED decisions like this, then it won't be long before we are Even Steven, and I can forget that I ever got mixed up with a person who would allow this to happen to themselves.

It breaks my soul to hear this shit. It leaves me with a foul taste in my mouth. It confirms every horrible notion about this life that I have ever entertained. It leaves me unable to sleep, on the verge of tears, pounding the steering wheel as I drive. It deprives me of the hope that I hold onto, the hope that someday human beings will transcend this putrid state of affairs and start using their HEADS instead of thinking with their inefficient hearts, their distorted emotions.

Of course, I am venting, and rightfully so. But I know that, once I calm down and re-examine the situation, there will be some sort of balance. I am just out-of-control right now, and my own emotions are running wild. But even in this state, I can find some sort of a bright side.

For one thing: thank God they never had kids. Procreating between these two would've been a bad, bad mistake.

Another thing: she is making an effort to pick herself up from the bootstraps. She did eventually leave him, and she is doing her best to pick up the pieces of her broken life.

One last thing: when we are working together, she is happy.

Those are the only things that are keeping me sane at this point.

The past four years have been a drag, because whether it's someone like Eve or Monique or Mary Jane or Holly or any girl that I've encountered, I am constantly faced with the problem of how to help someone who doesn't want my help. And the only way for me to survive it all is to just not care. I will listen, and I will not judge... but to ask me to care is asking way too much. Why should I care, when all these women ever do is allow me to build them up, so that they can run into the arms of "the one they love" and let him tear them down?

I am right to not care. But when I mean "not care", I mean it in the sense that I feel no obligation to save them. They don't want my help-- they're very adamant about that. Eventually, I come to realize that it's their life, not mine. I can sleep at night, knowing that I have no duty towards these women, who are drowning in their own shallow depths, locked in prisons of their own devise (as Jim Morrison once sang)...

It leaves me in the curious role of the witness to a crime. I watch them drown, and I don't throw them a lifesaver, because they would only throw it back at me and claim that they don't need a man to help them. From what I see, they only need a man to hurt them.

After we ate, I went home, and I couldn't get her words out of my head. I called her up on the phone, and we talked, but my cordless phone has been running low on juice, so our conversation was interrupted. And it's just as well-- after the bombshells she dropped on me last night, I think I might need a break from her. The work on the animation is winding down, so I will use the free time to cultivate more positive relationships in my life.

You see, there are some good things to look forward to, and they have to do with finding people who aren't stubborn. For every girl like Eve, who thinks they know what they are doing but doesn't have the slightest fucking clue, there is someone like Beth who listens to what I have to say and appreciates my input. Then there is the possibility of meeting new people, such as the fiddle player in my band... of course, the minute she shows signs of being just like all the others (i.e. fucked in the head) I can always extract myself from the mess.

That's what I did with Holly, ultimately. I never got too close. It hurt a bit when she left, but I am happier for having left her alone. And that's what I have to do with Eve-- I have to leave her alone. It's her life, not mine.

I wouldn't sacrifice my happiness for anything nowadays. It was a long, hard road that I traveled to get this far, and no one-- I repeat, NO ONE --is going to derail my progress.

Maybe the rest of the world is content to be miserable and sad, but I'm not. I'm too angry and bitter to give in to this "poor me" bullshit. I know better. I follow my own advice, even if others don't, and that's all I can expect now, isn't it?

I ask you one last time: why do I even bother?

Answer: because I'm not a quitter. Never was, never will. And if I'm the only person walking down this path, so be it. I can do it alone, because I've done it before. I pity those who cannot bear to do it by themselves. And yet, I cannot stop for them as they careen into oblivion. I've tried that-- it doesn't work.

Everyone around me is co-dependent. We live alone, we die alone, so why do we live our lives in denial of this?

I said it before, and I'll say it again: it's a broken world, and everyone needs a fix.

I know how to fix me, and only me. Is that selfish? You bet it is, but in my case, it's about time. I've wasted too much time on people who will never get it right. I can't wait for people to use their brains and do the right thing-- my time is precious, and I don't have any to spare to anyone.

Man, I wish she hadn't told me all of that. Why did she tell me? What did she expect me to do? Would she listen if I berated her? Would she listen if I kissed her ass?

It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore, no matter how you slice it.

It's all useless. It's all a fraud, an illusion. It doesn't mean anything.

Nothing at all.