Do Catholics still believe in Purgatory?

[KB.]

You know, no one watches over weary old Sisyphus as he pushes his boulder up that mountain, over and over, and over again. It’s a punishment for being too prideful, but hell if I was him I would tell that boulder to go kick rocks and take a smoke break.

What makes people run back to the things that will undoubtedly destroy them? Pride or maybe a lack of it? I’ve watched dumbfounded and confused as some very good people walk in the wrong direction, quickly. I watched it happen recently. It made me want to throw up. Disgusted. Junkies run to their drugs, alcoholics run to their drinks, the abused run to their abusers. The Myth of Sisyphus should be required reading. For everyone. If you can stay sober on Sundays, you can stay sober the rest of the week. If you know what is going to happen by the end of the night and that nothing will have changed. That you are going to leave upset, feeling worthless, and insubstantial. Why in the hell walk in that direction?

I guess I am at fault myself. I figured a bottle of Jim Beam, a bag of ice, and a Dixie cup would be the best thing to get me to sleep tonight. I didn’t fall in that hole though. I just went and ran/walked five miles in the rain. Restless energy. I think it is a sickness, one day they will prescribe mood altering drugs to treat it. The restlessness not the idiotic actions of addicts. Is it getting better? Well of course not and it never will as long as you try and cure the sickness with the disease. Sure he loves you, the way he touches you so soft and tenderly, when he tries to choke the life out of you. Full of love. Have one more drink; it’ll fill that empty little hole up sooner or later. Bless you.

Say a little prayer that I keep this as ambiguous and impersonal as possible.

Thanks.

Don’t let me be a hypocrite; call me out. I probably need it. My patience for thick headed, self destructive, futility driven idiots has worn thin. I have made room for two. Both spots are filled, one is for my own stupid self and the other is taken as well. The rest can kick rocks. Big ones. Barefoot.

Don’t you dare think I don’t have the knowledge to speak about these people like I am. There ain’t a better addict in the world. I’ll yell you what I’ll do though. As far as my remaining addictions, my destructive vices, the only one left is that damned cigarette. That nicotine goddess. It’ll kill me whether I stop now or smoke three packs a day for the rest of my life. That’s beside the point. I’ll stop. If you’ll stop. **** it I’ll stop anyway; it ain’t like you are going to read this.

Just let me keep my caffeine, my rambling, and my fried foods.

I promise I’ll try and get along better with my old enemy Mr. Moderation. I’m still going to have a drink every once in awhile, I like the way it tastes and sometime I just want to sleep a little easier. I won’t look for any answers at the bottom of that bottle though. Found those already. I will most likely move again eventually. The summer will get too hot or the winter will get too cold. I’ll get restless and antsy. I’ll hear a train or I’ll listen to Dylan too much one night. I’ll head out. Too scared I’ll wither up and die if I stay still. It’ll be awhile though because if I left right now I’d have to smoke on the way out of the state. I’ll need to get enough time between myself and that desire before I ramble.

So how about you? Moderation? Give it a try, hell you might like it. You know you aren’t the hopeless person you think you are. Perception is reality though. I tried to tell you that more than once. How many times did I tell you to just look around at the people close to you? To look at them and see what you are to them. Yeah I know, **** it, go have a drink, fill up that hole; go get called worthless and crazy. Get the hell beat out of you one good time, one damn good time. Then once more, it’ll stop eventually. One more for good measure, right? It was just a love tap. I’m sure apologies will be uttered between blows. When that rock you are pushing up the mountain rolls back down over you it will not hurt nearly as bad.

Do Catholics still believe in Purgatory? I’m Southern Baptist and I do. Some of you won’t make it out. You are tormented by the fact that you can see how good it is over there, how close you are to it, but you’ll just stay where you are.

Did I tell you the story about the woman in Houston? I know I did, maybe you didn’t listen. She was your age when we met, and she wasn’t much older than you. Mentally she was somewhere in between. It was a while ago. Did I tell you about the man in Pittsburgh that beat her until she bled from her ears, pissed blood, choked on it? I told you how he took cocaine and rubbed it into those love taps until she was addicted to it and never in her life had she willingly rode that white horse. Great girl, looked like a mocha colored day dream. Her dad was rich, and he fixed her teeth after they got knocked out. She had a lovely smile.

Every night for eight months or more I listened to her plead and beg for mercy in her sleep. Leaves an impression on a man; especially a man of 23 who was almost brand new to the world. I walked a lot in Houston. Miles and miles every day.

I told you that story right? She looks good now. Has that big smile on her face. Her eyes look clear. I bet she still pleads in her sleep. Maybe she found a way to forget. She looks just like she did seven years ago. Think you’ll be that lucky?

Yall ain’t hearing me are you?

Damn shame. I’m tired of talking. Work it out yourself. I did what I could do. Which granted wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things. Take care of yourselves. Maybe I’ll check in later and see how it’s working out for you. Maybe.

KB



“It occurred to me that my speech or my silence, indeed any action of mine, would be a mere futility”

~Joseph Conrad