Just a Dude

Idle Time | April 2025

This piece came from a place of stillness—those late nights where the world’s quiet, but your thoughts are loud. Just a Dude is me putting voice to what often goes unsaid. It’s about carrying on when you feel caged by routine, unseen in crowds, and distant from even yourself. It’s not about answers—it’s about honesty. And maybe, if you’ve ever felt the same, this one’s for you too.

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I’m just a dude
That frequents the same places—
Be it work,
The gym,
The things that help
The day shift.

Growing more impatient.
3am at the edge of my bed,
A silent stare into the dark,
Reflecting on it all
From the start.

Searching for some clues
For what’s next
On this journey
I involuntarily embarked.

The frantic movement of the weights—
Expressing all the rage,
This pent-up frustration,
This lit fuse,
About to blow
From the day to day.

Yearnings
For all the things
I can’t say.

By expectations I’m bound—
I’m caged.
Ensnared by the monotony,
With no room,
No space
To catch my breath
Or express the pain.

Dissecting
All the things
That influenced my ways.

As time goes on,
Our social groups
Begin to fade—
From hanging out every day
To going our separate ways.

The loneliness is carnivorous.
At my heart,
It eats away.

The days become
Blurred.
Emotions slowly dulled.

What do I feel?
Numb.
The slowing of the drums.
Drowning in this monologue,
Replaying all that’s waterlogged.

These covert tears—
I hide, not show.
And wonder
How many days it’s been
Since my soul
Found its way home.

Reflected,
Dejected—
I’m the world’s greatest pretender.

Encircled by the Maya,
These darkened clouds,
Now harrowing sounds.
Narrowing of the now—
This weight being more pronounced,
The hate growing ever loud.

“I’m just a dude,” I say.
But still,
I shy away
Midst unfamiliar crowds.

Still yet to find
The metaphors,
The adjective or noun
That could make you feel
How it sounds.

The fleeting moments
Of applause.
The weighted downpours.

Combing through the noise—
At my outbursts,
I hope you’re entertained.

Still I grind.
Still I train.
Waiting to see the sunrise
Once again.

⸻

At times, as a man, it’s hard not to quit on yourself.
Going through all the trials—like who really cares?
No helping hands in sight, not even to hold that candlelight.
Ever more lonely as life passes by—
I guess that’s what a man’s like.

The emptiness of their applause,
The lack of celebration,
Only met with expectation
To bear that weight
With a smile and grant them grace.

Can’t help but well up inside—
Full of frustration and rage
As I black out on this page.
I just hope it resonates.
But that’s not the aim,
Just a byproduct
Of sharing my pain.

If I did it in other ways,
My face would be
Front page.
But I guess I’ll be living up to that
Stigma once again—
Just another, out the way.

I hope my absence
Would brighten up your day,
As my presence doesn’t
Seem to.

A bunch of facades
Is what I see through.
You’d oscillate
If you were me too,
As I wait for that—
“Rich, I see you.”

Thanks for taking some idle time to read my latest offering. If you’d like to read more, feel free to subscribe. If not, I wish you well and truly appreciate your time.

Forever yours,

Rich