Chapter 7 - Passing through

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Vacuous spaces. Shoppers near and far.  A bushy beard attacking my face. You'd think it's misery but the beauty of it is pure bliss. The segway, crawling through a gigantic land.  The children, dancing. Parents learning. The old folk, cheering. Teens having fun. I see it daily. Heartfelt moments ready to inspire. The positive moments, beckoning to me. Motivating factors in the very mud i choose to be stuck in. Get dressed. Walk-in. Go home. It's a cycle that binds my life to that thing. That very idea of security. The concept of protection. Bettering the world because someone needs to do it. Do you think God does it? Do you think anyone even tries these days? Do you think any of this matters when the world fails to better a man like me? A man who stood up to the crooks and criminals. A man who fought for this life. A man living on the brink of collapse.  A man alone. Drifting by as his pointless existence expands. Just like his weight. Fat. Lumpy. Pathetic. None of it matters. I can do it! I can get through this life even if I die trying.


The guilt of the past and the pain that surrounds me may be too much for you to comprehend. I don't think you or anyone will ever grasp that. That feeling... Maybe I am a useless sack of crap. Maybe I am filth. Maybe I don't deserve a second chance but I'm ready for whatever is thrown my way. So to whoever is reading this, please set me free. Set me free of my anguish as I drift through the mall of strangers and nobodies.  I'm a somebody. I'm an officer but why is it so hard to even bother. Security is the point! Happiness isn't.  So someone, anyone!  Better me. Save my life. Do anything to help. Let me escape the chains of hypoglycemia. The sweat and graceful movements of this machine I dare ride alone. Everything is a machine! Everyone is a machine and I'm just a cog. Filling the role of a bumbling idiotic Mall Cop. 

What does any of it even mean? Why does security even matter? Well... It's the only thing I have left. Maya is gone. Amy divorced. Moms dead. My life is crumbling. WHAT DO I DO?! Move along. Business as usual.  Vacuous spaces. Shoppers near and far. A hairy beard attacking my face. My lust for sugar rising. I crave it. I need it. I want it. I want some sugar. I want some love. Inner peace. Something to add to the joy of riding on that same old segway. Up and down. Up and down. Going with the flow... Is this the life I signed up for?

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