This is what I have to remember:
My life is a house of cards. It takes nothing to upend me. I have nothing stable, nothing solid, nothing that I cannot throw away at a moment's notice. The only thing I have is my self, which I earned over a period of fifteen years in which I trampled through all that I had just to get to this empty space. I killed love at every turn and fucked up every relationship I had, romantic, friendly, family, nothing was sacred and nothing was left unsaid or alone.
In my exploration, my search to find my self, I let many things happen to me that I know I would never let happen to me if those same things approached me now. I'd be able to say no, thanks and walk away instead of trying to puzzle over and figure things out. I thought that I had managed to muster a fairly accurate divining rod for the people I came across.
Sometimes I am wrong and I think I know what I'm getting into, I give people too much credit and hope so hard for the best and then I understand that it is just an upgrade from where I was, the paper is prettier, the ribbons finer, the potential for loveliness so great that I overlook things that I finally see later, when it is much too late.
I want to have the good things that other people have, the joy, the pleasure, the stability that gives them freedom. I know I have felt it, I know I have faked it, but I am tired of waiting for it or getting half of what I need. They leave me constantly thirsty, desperate for approval, aching for satisfaction. I get joy from life, the nests in the naked trees, the bats swooping overhead, the feel of fabric against my skin, but it is with them that I cannot find pleasure. Lately I have suffered from a string of disappointments they imposed on me, tired of my standards and sick of my demands.
Should I bend or break? that is all I wonder.
No comments:
Post a Comment