Mother May I

Mother, may I… become rich?
*No, you may not, but you may do what you love
.

Mother, may I… become famous?
*No, you may not, but you may have many friends that appreciate you genuinely.

Mother, may I… never be sad again?
*No, you may not, but you may appreciate happier moments all the better.

Mother, may I… be loved?
Yes, you may… You have always been loved. I will love you forever.



There are few certainties in life:

It will always rain after a few sunny days. You may make a lot of money, but bills will eventually catch up to you. You may contest gravity, but the floor will always be there to catch your fall. Your life will be filled with sad truths and despairing moments. Solitude may even haunt you at times. 

Nevertheless… however dark it may seem, you can always count on something else to brighten your days, something intangible, something ancient and powerful.

A mother’s love.


I remember not having many friends yet I was not alone. I remember countless nights playing video games and watching movies with my mom. I do not doubt that she did not enjoy most of the activities I suggested, but she spent her evenings with me all the same. She simply cared for me that much and I appreciated her company. We could have been alone in this world and still we both would have laughed and smiled.

I remember feeling embarrassed and powerless. I remember playing poorly in sports. I remember having bad grades sometimes. I felt like I wasn’t good enough, but I always knew I was good enough for her. Her glimmering stare always showed me how prideful she was of me… and that gave me courage. I tried and failed at many things. Still she smiled at me. She encouraged me… always. She never gave up on me and so, I would never give up on myself lest it would tarnish that beautiful smile of hers. I strove to make her proud… to make her happy.

I cherish our memories mom. I am truly blessed to have such a mother. I love spending time with you. I love talking with you. I love watching shows and movies with you. I love you mommy.


 

I truly believe there is nothing more powerful than a mother’s love. 


I consider myself lucky. I’ve never felt overwhelmed nor have I ever felt completely alone. I was a shy kid. I didn’t have many friends. I even got bullied a bit. But I’ve never felt helpless.
 Even when my spirit was shattered in a thousand pieces, my mother always took the time to mend my broken soul. She picked the pieces up, one by one. Without care for time, without fear of consequences, she put them back together. Fixing the puzzle she knew so well as she smiled peacefully… Oh what a powerful smile.  I consider myself lucky to be loved by such a patient and generous woman. She has always taken care of me, and as we both grow older, I will do the same for her. 

Happy birthday to my care taker. To my first and oldest friend. To the sturdiest shoulder to cry on. To an incredibly emphatic soul. Happy birthday mommy! I promise to love you. Unconditionally. Always. 

Waking the Monster (part 1)

What if there is a simple cause to all our pain and suffering? What if we could blame it all on someone… some”thing”?


Note that these words might be the ravings of a madman. However, my family has no history of schizophrenia. Furthermore, my family, my friends and my wife have always considered me as a rational man. In the past, my thoughts were always clear and coherent. I do not think I am or ever was “crazy”. Nevertheless, if my findings are correct, I believe humanity is doomed. Although, if I am not and am in fact “insane”, humanity is still in a dire situation. Here is my story; make of it what you will. I am haunted and do not wish to continue living like this. “It” has taken what I cherished most: my mind. 

I was blessed with an incredible brain. When I was a child, I would spend hours inside my own mind. Creating worlds, creatures, characters, stories… My dad would drive me around a lot. We traveled often. He did not talk much. However, I was never bored during our lengthy car rides. I would simply stare out the window and imagine things. As you might presume, I was a distracted child.

Consequently, school was not easy for me. Teachers would speak for hours on end. I listened to what they said as I was a respectful kid. My imagination did not belong here. I could not venture in my mind as I did in the past. Time was constricted in the classroom. We, students, could not waste it. I resigned myself to this new and boring lifestyle. At times, outbursts of imagination would disturb my tuition. At first, I raised my hand to ask the teacher to clarify my insights. But the teachers would rarely answer my questions. They would justify their silence with various excuses: “That is not what I want you to learn David!”, “You will learn that next year!” or my personal favorite “That is too complicated for the class David, I don’t want to confuse the other students!”. I quickly understood that if I wanted to learn everything, I would have to search for answers by myself. It was then that I turned to books to satisfy my curiosity.

I read every book I could find. From philosophy to science or historical romance to fantasy novels, my curiosity was insatiable. I quickly mastered different uses for my brain. I started losing myself inside my mind once again. Simply, this time, instead of creating my own world, I would contemplate all that I had seen and learned. I would rationalize my thoughts; understand them. My comrades quickly found that I was an insightful tool. I made many “friends”. With their help, I grew to further understand human interactions. I was a good listener. I absorbed everything I was told. People came to me for advice or simply to be heard. At my own peril, I was and still am an emphatic person. I could understand exactly how others felt and why they were troubled. I rationalized their problems and guided them as best I could. I learned from their mistakes and matured alongside them.

Come December 21st, 2012, the last day of the Mayan calendar. How ironic that we would cause our own demise on that specific date. The worst day of my life… the worst day of our lives. I spent that entire day in bed, but I could not sleep. I trembled. I clutched at my bed rails to stabilize myself. I could not close my eyes, for every time I did, all I could see were two gleaming red eyes floating in a world of darkness… a world of hatred. I lay there paralyzed for hours, haunted by the sight of those spiteful red slits.


Humanity is a peculiar race. We discover, think, innovate and build. Curiosity is what defines us… from our beginning to our end. We discovered how to create fire. We explored our world and adapted it to our own lifestyles. Our planet still hides many mysteries, yet we venture elsewhere to discover our galaxy. Our curiosity is truly inspiring… and dangerous.


As I aged, I realized I needed to focus on the struggles of the real world. My mind remained my safe haven, but it could not protect me from the cost of survival. I needed to find a job to pay my bills. Money became a priority. Without it, I had no shelter, no food… no value. I searched for jobs and continually reached for higher salaries. I lost myself in the process.

I never spoke of my “first episode” to anyone. “It must have been a panic attack” I told myself. A few years passed as I transitioned through many jobs, trying to find the right one for me. I had lost my imagination, my curiosity, my powerful mind. I felt depression and anxiety wrapping their dark tendrils around my feet, constricting my body. Preventing me from finding my path. The creeping darkness I felt was swallowing all the hope I could ever have of freeing myself. I had no purpose. Sadly, my imagination and curiosity had fled, but my empathy remained to spite me. I could feel the sadness and suffering of everyone around me. The pressure all of humanity felt. We had to be successful, we had to be beautiful, we had to be kind and generous… we had to be perfect. Anxiety and depression were and still are at an all time high! Why did humanity suffer so? 

Our parents seemed happy enough. They had found a path that suited them. They were happy with what they had. Was our generation cursed? Were we doomed with eternal despair? Even the rich and famous had their own set of problems. No one was truly happy. I assumed it was because of how society had evolved. I assumed it was because of the rise of social medias and the pressure they caused us. I assumed it was because we were promised everything but could have nothing. I assumed it was because of all our rules and social standards… I assumed…

Luckily, in 2015, I met the perfect woman, my savior. Her love was unconditional. She helped me escape my misery and find my true passion. She reignited a flame that had long since died in me, submerged in the darkness that surrounds us all. She jolted my sleeping mind back to life.  

I became a writer, an excellent one, a renowned author and blogger. Everything was perfect for a time. However, my happiness was ephemeral. My imagination had returned, and with it, my recurring nightmare. My mind never stopped. I constantly thought of stories and tried to perfect them. I was annoyed by all the buzzing of ideas in my head. I could barely sleep but when I finally did, all I dreamed of were those burning red slits starring at me from the abyss. 


We searched too deep. We woke it from its timeless slumber. Damned by our needless curiosity. We discovered something we should have never found.