A hell of a way to start a blog

You’ve seen it in the movies when someone is buried alive. I think that’s how I feel right now. Allow me to extend this metaphor. I’ve been buried. I’m not in a coffin either; dirt is just being shoveled onto me so that I feel on the verge of being crushed. I am amazed at how heavy a grain can be when multiplied. That fucking grain of dirt. That particle. I have been deceived. I am buying lies and there is so much dirt that I can’t move. In my paralysis I find that I cannot speak but only move my fingers enough to feel the hardness of that packed soil. But inside there is a supernova. Age and weariness shoulder each other and amidst friction and electricity. Right now I don’t know which is winning: fear, pain, or rage. I think it’s rage, or tired out anger after a night of damp, muttering sleep. I want to destroy but am trying to direct it against myself. I am made a fool of. Out there in the static someone is laughing at me and if I ever see him he will remember meeting me. I am training. I can’t move right now. I can scarcely breathe. I try to do the right thing. Be honorable. Be noble. Just why in the hell do I do that? Maybe karma exists and I’m too small to see it. Maybe doing the right thing has spared me unknown horrors and I am too stupid, like all this dirt, to see it. Maybe, but it seems to me that the benefit goes inexorably to the scoundrel and to the villain and if that is the case, then encased in this earthy bed I train. I am becoming stronger. Once again I find myself in the ashes but I cannot be born, yet once again, to this pathetic life. I will make them remember me and when they are old (hopefully sooner) they will know what I was worth and that I am not someone to be trifled with.