even though from the beginning
When you look back now was it special?
Or was it nothing but an anecdote that you can tell now and then?
I delude myself it was worth it
Even though from the beginning I could see exactly how it would end
I have every reason and the best of intentions, now, to veer away from morbid contemplation, to pull back from ingesting too much toxic nostalgia. I keep coming back though, circling the dark pool of my memories.
It never seems to help. I never reach the bottom of the pool before I need to breathe again, kicking upwards through youthful mistakes and self-serving treacheries of spirit, cloying compromises and sharp-edged agreements...all spinning in their own deadly fashion, hooked to keep me under, weighted to pull me down.
It's a useless exercise. I need to get out of the shadows again.
It's a wonderful world, so we're told. Let's keep it that way, if possible.
To that end, more on the trademark issue. Ah, good, that...um...clears everything...right up.
*coughs*
Moving along. Or trying to; moving itself is becoming problematic. When behind my eyes I picture the figure on the far shore, and I wonder if there's a way to end the exile again...and I have to sternly tell myself, our fates are no longer linked.
But...
And no, I have to say again. No. This time, it's no. But no one ever said it would be easy.
Well, be fair, it's my life, after all; it's not designed to be easy. Honestly, if I had to explain it? It would read like stereo instructions. For a German stereo system, where the user's manual was written in Latin, then translated to Japanese and again into English.
No wonder I have days where people tell me I'm not making sense. I don't make sense, and sometimes, that's by configuration and design. However much I long for simplicity, long for clarity, positively pine for boring, at times...I never get these things, because at heart, deep down, in that place I don't even admit to myself exists...I don't want an easy life.
I must not, after all, or frankly, I'd have one already. And I don't. Obviously, at least part of my purpose here is to confuse, confound, and irritate.
Lucky for me, these are things I'm tragically good at.
So maybe a reconfiguration is in order. Take the time I have while things are quiet, and reflect on where I need to go from here, versus where I want to go. See if that's the same as where others in my life need to go. Make sure the steps we're taking, we can take together, are taking together, and that I'm not walking too far ahead or too far behind.
Because the last thing I need right now is more heartache. Perhaps that's only morbidly funny to me, but it's also true. I've walked away from so much, but I've never had a goal as to where I'm walking, just that I am. Continuing to move forward, that's been the only point.
Maybe...now...I should have a goal. Even if it's something simplistic, like...design a new dress a week, a new set of eyes a week, an hour taken for personal contemplation a week...at least. Those have to be good things, right?
...Right? They're goals, at least...
...Right?
(Opening stanza from "Broken Promises For Broken Hearts" by She Wants Revenge.)
Or was it nothing but an anecdote that you can tell now and then?
I delude myself it was worth it
Even though from the beginning I could see exactly how it would end
I have every reason and the best of intentions, now, to veer away from morbid contemplation, to pull back from ingesting too much toxic nostalgia. I keep coming back though, circling the dark pool of my memories.
It never seems to help. I never reach the bottom of the pool before I need to breathe again, kicking upwards through youthful mistakes and self-serving treacheries of spirit, cloying compromises and sharp-edged agreements...all spinning in their own deadly fashion, hooked to keep me under, weighted to pull me down.
It's a useless exercise. I need to get out of the shadows again.
It's a wonderful world, so we're told. Let's keep it that way, if possible.
To that end, more on the trademark issue. Ah, good, that...um...clears everything...right up.
*coughs*
Moving along. Or trying to; moving itself is becoming problematic. When behind my eyes I picture the figure on the far shore, and I wonder if there's a way to end the exile again...and I have to sternly tell myself, our fates are no longer linked.
But...
And no, I have to say again. No. This time, it's no. But no one ever said it would be easy.
Well, be fair, it's my life, after all; it's not designed to be easy. Honestly, if I had to explain it? It would read like stereo instructions. For a German stereo system, where the user's manual was written in Latin, then translated to Japanese and again into English.
No wonder I have days where people tell me I'm not making sense. I don't make sense, and sometimes, that's by configuration and design. However much I long for simplicity, long for clarity, positively pine for boring, at times...I never get these things, because at heart, deep down, in that place I don't even admit to myself exists...I don't want an easy life.
I must not, after all, or frankly, I'd have one already. And I don't. Obviously, at least part of my purpose here is to confuse, confound, and irritate.
Lucky for me, these are things I'm tragically good at.
So maybe a reconfiguration is in order. Take the time I have while things are quiet, and reflect on where I need to go from here, versus where I want to go. See if that's the same as where others in my life need to go. Make sure the steps we're taking, we can take together, are taking together, and that I'm not walking too far ahead or too far behind.
Because the last thing I need right now is more heartache. Perhaps that's only morbidly funny to me, but it's also true. I've walked away from so much, but I've never had a goal as to where I'm walking, just that I am. Continuing to move forward, that's been the only point.
Maybe...now...I should have a goal. Even if it's something simplistic, like...design a new dress a week, a new set of eyes a week, an hour taken for personal contemplation a week...at least. Those have to be good things, right?
...Right? They're goals, at least...
...Right?
(Opening stanza from "Broken Promises For Broken Hearts" by She Wants Revenge.)
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