I am Vernon’s Happy Doom Gloom

I got to thinking the other day on my commute drive home,
(dangerous - I know),
on a Wednesday at 4:23 p.m.,
laid back driving on a two-lane country road,
and you know what -
everybody wants to go to Heaven but nobody wants to die,
and I find that premise strange yet comforting after the oddness of accepting it finally wears off.
...

A lot of people are ready to evacuate this body,
yet nobody is ready to die.
...

Then, it happened.

On a Sunday at that.

A Sunday when you have the next Monday off.

...
A sign.

One that I did not even ask for but my perception was aware enough to pick up on.
...

On that day,
the wind kicked up a dust devil in an open field,
an open field I was across the way from,
one of the last cold fronts of the year moving through,
the first line of dark, gray, rain filled clouds passing overhead,
the smell of that contained water drifting on the gusts,
and I stood in place and watched the natural chaos unfold around me.

The wind tore at the loose parts of my clothes.
It made my hair dance. 
It grazed my skin and made the hairs on my arm stand up. 
It made me feel more alive than I already did.
It felt like an invisible spirit was trying to slowly consume me.

In the panic,
people ran inside the house to escape the chaos.

Me,
in the panic of the panic,
I stood in the chaos and felt what was crossing the land in front of me as though I was staring down an imaginary dragon with my shield and sword.

I squinted my eyes.
I took a deep breath.
I exhaled it slowly out of my mouth.
I noticed what most do not.
...

As I did this, it erased all the red lights I had encountered the past week.
It erased all the demands I had to fulfill. 
It erased all the non driving fools and a-hole tailgaters.
It erased the taxes I have to constantly pay. 
It erased all the mistakes I had made in the past however.
It erased all the times I had embarrassed myself or lost cool points. 

I felt the pinky of God. 
I felt the minuscule might of Mother Nature herself.
I felt small as compared to the grand scheme of things.
I felt the breeze baptize me like it was the holiest wind in all of the land.
I felt not in control for a minute, and, honestly, it felt amazing.

...
So, I let go.
...

This earth was now my confession booth,
minus the creepy guy sitting next to me, listening to me tell him my personal business and secrets and him not returning the favor,
so I did what anyone would do in this situation.

...
I whispered to God.
By myself. 
...

Then the sound came after my first sentence.

Of the breeze going from zero to thirty back down to fifteen miles per hour back to almost forty,
carrying the ancient's voice up from the underworld,
tickling my skin,
grounding my soul,
solidifying my spirit,
tearing the veil -
the words I hear traveling on the invisible,
me - stuck in place as the tree tops bent left to right,
the grass and bushes swaying, dancing, moving with the invisible force,
then,
it relents,
then,
it unrelents,
then,
the misting rain,
then,
more aggressive wind,
then,
sharp lightning,
then,
the thundering footsteps of the giants above us,
the drip, drip, drip of the clouds' tears,
me abandoning the chaotic landscape for a cold bed, open windows, and me listening to an afternoon thundershower as it slowly led to a three hour nap. 

*In the moment, I closed my eyes and listened and it dawned on me* 

Red lights do no matter here. 
The demands of daily life do no matter here. 
Taxes do not matter here.
Stress does not matter here.
Bad people do no matter here.
Tailgaters and bad drivers have no right of way here.
Being ignored by everyone until they need something is obsolete.
Failure does not matter in this magical place I have created.
Unrest has no roots in this void I have manifested out of nothing.
...

The world could have ended,
forever plus a day,
as I laid in my king bed and drifted with the afternoon thunderstorm,
windows open,
floor fan going,
and I would not have known the difference. 

And,
for some of us,
most of us,
that is okay.
...

I breathe until I disappear. 
I disappear until I am noticed. 
I am noticed while being withdrawn.
My soul recharges in this flux.
My hunger subsides as my body slowly eats itself.
My body leaps into the beginning of my subconscious, like watching the concrete sidewalk getting closer and closer after you jump off the top of a tall skyscraper.

Then, all of a sudden, that 'jolt'.

...
I return - three hours later.

But where did I 'honestly' go?
...

As I drifted, the storm settled in and calmed.

There was a light trickle of water falling off the back patio shelter and onto the giant river pebbles below.

I could hear this as I drifted to and fro from my special place.

...
My drifting self tells my sleeping self tells my real self that I could disappear here forever.
...

Me,
as I slowly regained consciousness,
all I could smell was bacon, eggs, pancakes, and Balsam Fir three wick candles.

Then, I realize that breakfast for dinner is an anomaly worth noting because how awesome is it to do that?
...

I look around at my surroundings and am instantly confused from what I experienced in my deep slumber.

I rub my eyes.
...

Where am I at - really?

---

Life is pretty awesome until it isn't,
isn't it?

And,
I'm sure some of you would agree with me -
when life isn't as awesome as we think it should be,
most of the time,
some of the time,
it probably isn't our fault either,
is it?
...

Unless we made a bad decision.
Unless we made a good decision that turned bad.
Or we let someone take advantage of us because our impression of them outweighed who they truly were.
Or we did not get our chocolate covered creme puff (*wink wink*).
Or someone fixed you a sandwich, a nice ham, turkey, cheese, lettuce, and tomato but plastered mayonnaise on both sides of the bread.
Or someone turned a cucumber into a pickle. 
Or someone broke our heart and we thought they were there to help patch it together.

When life sends you a text message and you wait to respond to it, on purpose, because you have a ghosting, rage baiting point to prove and some 'imaginary character quality' you'd like to keep up for the next 'however long', even though it has not panned out for you since you chose to conform to it, adapted so much that it did not make you flattering at all, yet, the stubbornness of the moment you created is going to totally miss the target as compared to how you thought it would play out, but then, when you finally swallow your pride and reply, you expect an immediate response and it does not happen, so you get frustrated in not being able to control everything and then you later find out that messages were both sent and messages were both received and people are just different and as long as you stay true to your inner warrior then nothing else really matters as long as you let certain people just be... common... as you were common in that same moment...
...

So we walk away.
We do not compromise ourself to someone else's lack of.
The preservation of our own spirit is more important than anybody's character flaw they reveal through their actions.
We drift further and further away from what the societal 'norm' should really be or how we should honestly treat those that are close to us.
...
...or not treat.

...
  
The world is not that bad of a place,
right?
...

Our constant Happy Doom Gloom.

...
Then,
you start to notice.
...
Fake plants here.
Fake plants there.
Fake flowers to smell.
The same office playlists, day after day after day after day.
The same conversations, day after day after day after day. 
Having to hear yourself repeat yourself, day after day after day after day.

We start slipping away.

The realness of reality slowly fades with every sunset. 

Candles burnt to the bottom of the wick.
Lines streaking across our sky instead of our sky just being allowed to be a normal sky filled with 'real' clouds only. 
The buffering. 
The constant spinning circles.
The advertisements. 
Everyone talk, talk, talking but having nothing to say, say, say. 
The demands of the every day.
Wifi connection here.
Wifi connection there.
Bluetooth this.
Bluetooth that. 
Invisible signals disrupting every normal pattern and frequency known to man.
Another pointless social media app to download and adapt to.

They control us now. 

...
.
...

The world is not that bad of a place,
right?
...

What's wrong, Happy Doom Gloom?

...
Then,
you start to notice.
...
The real smiles.
The pretend ones.
Uplifting the lowly no matter how low you may be.
Energetic hugs. 
Heartfelt hellos. 
Melancholic goodbyes.
Hearing distant chatter laughter and wanting to be a part of it.
Accepting welcomed eye contact, the kind that does not let go. 
The blink, blink, blink of that certain set of lashes.
Echoing heartbeats in the dark - bare chest on top of bare chest.
A hot shower when it's cold.
A cool shower when it's warm. 
Red Starbursts. 
That special creme puff doughnut you want, whatever flavor, a sticky face you'd gladly wear all day just to be able to lick the corners of your mouth and have another taste later on in the afternoon.

We control us, for the moment.

...
.
...

The world is not that bad of a place,
right?
...

My beautiful, Happy Doom Gloom.

...

Then,
you start to notice.
...
The unrest of the news media.
When people lie and you know it.
When people tell you the truth and you have to question it due to past experiences.
The times you received no consolation as you cried.
The tears you chose to not wipe away.
The tears you chose to wipe away.
The tears you tasted.
The people you have seen pass on.
The people you have chose to pass on.
Seeing things that other people cannot see and not because you are crazy. 
That first taste of a gummy. 
The smell and feel and sound of fall's first campfire. 
Seeing your younger self when you look in the mirror from time to time.

Control controls control, for the control.

...
.
...

The world is not that bad of a place,
right?
...

My fragile, fragile Happy Doom Gloom.
...

Then,
you start to notice.
...
Beauty.
Ugliness.
Your fate.
Undying dreams.
Valid opposites.
A steady piloted spirit in an angry, spirit destroying ocean.
A parachute if you're going too fast.
A life jacket if you're tired of paddling.
A lighthouse in the dark. 
Angst - so much angst out there and for no reason.
War.
Unrest. 
Families struggling to survive.
Opinions, countless as countless can be.
So many invalid opinions.
Talk, talk, and more talk, when nobody can hear because nobody is listening anyway.
When you catch her putting a random flower behind her ear like the princess she is.
Hippie girls with shaved armpits, because no guy wants to be put in a headlock with a woman that has a fro under her arm - 'I'll trim my hedges if you trim yours kind of agreement'.
Knowing someone is having a bad day and your presence washes a little bit of that away.
...
...

The world is not that bad of a place,
right?
...

My flawed, Happy Doom Gloom.

...

Then,
you start to notice.
...
Love, loveless or not,
help me make up for this mess that nobody asked for,
myself included,
the trying times that I've pulled myself through, 
the struggles that nobody cares or cared about,
that nobody recognizes or recognized,
that nobody even knows or knew about.
Endless bandages for a soul that has been drug through the muddy thorns of life on Earth.
When I thought I was alone, when I thought no one cared, when I thought you were a myth - I felt that tickle, but only because I was still enough to notice.

You have always been there, my lost love, regardless of regardless. 

Faith, whether faithless or not,
help me make up for the spiritual scars I carry,
my soul having bled at different points in my life but my armor keeping my life contained within it,
God healing me as the arrows continued to pierce,
as the stones continued to dent,
as the sword's edge continued to cut,
the crusade continues as we all realize that, sometimes, the only way out of this mess is going straight through it, the shortest distance between two points being a straight line.
When this knight finally sheds his armor for the last time, that is when his true journey begins and I can finally let my scars breathe and bathe in absolute sunlight for the first time.

You have always been there, faith, nevertheless of nevertheless.

Hope, whether hopeless or not, baptize me in your warmth.
Carry me to the beach.
Carry me to the mountains.
Carry me to where Disappear can finally disappear with me. 
Carry me to where tears are made so I can dry them up before they find the ones I love.
Let my subconscious do the walking and my metaphysical do the talking.
You have pulled me from the grave, even when I was already standing in it.
You were there when nobody else was.
You told Ego to take a backseat.  
Irony is my soulmate, true, but Hope, you are closer to me than she is most of the time. 
You are my twin flame's twin flame.
You are my perfect sunset. 
You are my rested, enjoyable sunrise.
You are my fireside kiss.  
You are the day I fake-call-in-sick-to-work because, for the moment, I do not have time for anybody else's nonsense.  
...
...

The world is not that bad of a place,
right?
...

My neglected, Happy Doom Gloom.

...
Then,
you start to notice.

---

A broken heart is hard to put back together if you do not have all the pieces,
and it's okay if you do not find them all because you can make new ones, if need be, even if they do not match the lost ones.
.

Then, the feeling approaches and I realize it and recognize it and admire it for what it is.

Another endless epiphany.  

.
The best feeling in the world, besides eating a fresh chocolate covered creme puff doughnut, is a true and unadulterated love, the kind of love that, if you are walking beside your person and you drop your hand, they immediately know that you want to hold theirs so they go through the same set of movements as you did to initiate this real life occurrence, showing the simulated world that the both of you are truly connected. 

Palms interlocked. 
Fingers rubbing over knuckle bones. 
A little squeeze to let the latched hand know that they are the best shoulder candy the world has ever seen,
and,
in the moment,
we realize that what we are doing is okay.
...

Happy Doom Gloom,
how many people do you even see holding hands anymore, 
us disconnected, wanting to hold other things in our palms instead of the fired up flesh of the one that sets us ablaze?

... 
Notice the 'movie scenes' you find yourself in, out there in the matrix, in simulated reality, when they start to unfold.

Bottle and absorb that energy.

If someone smiles a certain way. 
If the wind picks up their hair and they pull it behind their ear. 
How they apply Chapstick to their lips. 
Or the way they chew gum. 
Or if you jive with someone and they jive back.
Somebody swinging by work just to lay eyes on you.
An unexpected text message just to check in and heckle someone.  

Make a moment the world has yet to experience instead of the other way around.

...
I absorb almost every moment as though it were my last.
Because it may be, right?

For me.
And for you.
 
I dissect it unprofessionally like I did the frog back in tenth grade biology class.

And sometimes I think about the ending of things and they have not even started yet.

And all of this is okay.
...
..
.

Happy Doom Gloom is coming...

And I'm already there, beautiful, waiting on you, our table top reservation on the cliffside at sunset,
like always...

.
..
...

What power would you have if,

every kiss was your first, especially that first one with tongue, you looking like a frog going after a fly and missing every landing spot.

Every cuss word was your last.

Every negative thought or emotion was countered with three positive ones.

If you could meet yourself for the first time like everyone else has had to. 

Every smile you had from here on out was real, reserving the pretend ones for the infiltrators only. 

If vacations could last forever. 

If every clover was a four leaf one.

If you never got a flat tire.

If people started writing love letters again, on paper, and not finger tapped on some digital screen. The letters you used to spray your cologne on so the girl would subliminally remember you in the days to come, or vice se versa - her perfume on yours. And you had neat ways to fold those letters and make them extra special, knowing that that specific tree died for a reason so you had to make it extra awesome. The box you had hidden under your bed that stored all these endless journeys, nostalgic evidence, tangible thoughts written down just for you, showing you that these handwritten words are, or were, more valuable than any Egyptian hieroglyphic or ancient cave wall painting, and you hung on those words as though they were oxygen in an oxygen'less world.

Like watching newly inflated mylar birthday balloons being accidentally released from the hand of a child and those said balloons slowly climbing higher and higher into the chemtrail-line-filled sky and you having to console the child and let them know that everything is going to be okay, even when it's not. 
...

These are the secrets that hide in your shadow, my Happy Doom Gloom...

...
What power would you have if there was no power at all? 

If control was obsolete. 

If doughnuts were 'Mandela Effected' out of our existence, meaning no more creme puffs for anybody, ever, until we make it to Heaven, and maybe not even then. 

If you could see what you believed in.

If you believed everything you saw.

If nothing was ever going to hurt you until you died. 

If you could dance, whenever you wanted, and have that special song play over some invisible speaker wherever you were at, and if someone else wants to jump in and add to the disco party - then so be it. 

If you could witness a Supermoon at the beach in the month of October with that special someone and slow dance under the stars.

If you could regain every memory before twelve years of age. 

If you could clone yourself and really make things interesting for everyone with the things you could finally pull off since your doppelgänger would be dealing with your weekly nonsense.

If the grass was blue and the sky was green, our perception inverted. 

If we could bring back rolling a soft pack of cigarettes in your short sleeve shirt's sleeve or just bring back cigarette smoking altogether.

If we could call a vanilla flavored Black n Mild a 'White n Mild' because who doesn't like a little sugar in their tea. 

If we could work four days and be off three, every week.
...

Let's dance for a minute, Happy Doom Gloom.

...
What if, 
if never iff'ed so if could be the if if always wanted to if.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Don't dabble too much in your nonsensical sentence structure and worded anomalies.
For the reader's sake, Vernon.
Please!   

Give them a break on this post.

They deserve a reprieve. 
.

What if money was no longer a worry?
Would you be happy then?

What if you found a love that was meant for you?
Would you be happy then?

What if you received a free house, all utilities paid, forever?
Would that make you happy?

What if you had your own personal chef, who prepared brisket, burnt ends, and stringy pulled pork to your heart's content?
Would that make you happy?

What if you could quit your current job and work the dream job that was meant for you?
Would that make you happy?

What if you had a crew that was assigned to just massage you, for free - your hands, your neck, your shoulders, your back, your lumbar, your feet - the works, while feeding you seedless, green grapes?
Would that make you happy?

What if someone paid off your car loan or bought you a brand new car?
Would that make you happy?

What if you never had to clean your house and it cleaned itself - the same with the laundry.
Would that make you happy?

What if Covid was never created and forced upon us by the powers that be as a control and money making mechanism, as well as a means for population control?
Would that make you feel better?

What if the entire space program wasn't a ruse in a Hollywood studio?
Would that make you feel better?

What if we could destroy AI and social media platforms now and never look back?
Would you want to?

What if, just if, all of this is just pretend, a simulation, another failed creation, and our attachments make this experience real?
What then?

...

Happy Doom Gloom, 
leave your lipstick prints on my lower neck and not on my cheeks because I do not want people to know where we have been or where we are going or what we are doing, much less thinking.

...

What if - if What?
...

Put on a smile.
Right?

Fake or not.

Because things could be a lot worse?
...

Maybe?

---

Happy Doom Gloom,
I'm going to disclose how you approach me to whoever is reading this then run as fast as I can mid sentence before you or the moment catches up with me first.
...

I know you are coming for me, as always, and I - you.

And tonight's the night! 

...
I see that new lingerie you've picked out and laid on the bed, the semi see-thru kind you wear when the night is young, a bold move considering you have chosen to show me your hand before I show you mine.

I can smell your new Cucumber Pomegranate Sugarlove body wash in almost every room of the house. 

I hear you showering.

I see the steam coming from the cracked bathroom door.

I cover all the clocks with something because I do not want time to exist in this moment.

You start singing.

This lets me know you are plotting, like a typical woman. 

This lets me know you have some imaginary scenario you want to carry out, the kind that leaves a mark so I will not forget about you in the days to come.

...
My Happy Doom Gloom,
why keep this gentleman waiting?
... 

Then, the shower turns off.

I hear the shower curtain pull back. 

I hear the pitter pattering of the shower dripping.

My mind takes me back to that thunderstorm I drifted off to, windows up, light thunder, rain drip-drip-dripping onto the large river pebbles below - 

am I still asleep or is this really happening?

...
And then, my movie scene unfolds like a fresh napkin wrapped around your silverware.
...

The bathroom door cracks open even more, letting this fire breathing dragon woman exit after rinsing herself in hot lava. 

She steps through, scorched Earth, body and hair wrapped in towels like a Medusa, snake headed beast full of promiscuous intent. 

I act like I am not looking at her from my periphery even though I am. 

She disappears behind a wall for a couple of minutes.

...
My Happy Doom Gloom,
it's about to go down, huh?
...

Then, in full evening wear display, she rounds the corner and, low and behold, she starts to make her way toward me.

She teases my brain, as well as my eyes, as a quaint grin crosses my face.

She raises her finger and slowly

---