I haven’t written here in far too long…but somehow it still doesn’t feel like long enough. My (mostly) brutal and (occasionally) triumphant moments are chronicled here. For those reasons alone I’m hesitant to type these letters out into words, and on into sentences, and, god forbid, thoughts. It somehow makes it all so much more real, and reality is something I’m currently avoiding at all costs.
Tonight probably isn’t the night to make a return. It doesn’t seem like the night that I’ll showcase my finest work. But tonight is the first time I felt I had to write in over a year.
Re-living my last three posts, which cover nearly the last two years, it occurred to me how many times my life has transformed, only to end up in exactly the same place. That leads me to one of two possible conclusions:
1. I’m insane.
2. Something keeps pushing me in the same direction.
I honestly can’t decide which one I’d rather be the case. On the one hand, being insane sounds awful, but at least it’s a resolution. The second explanation only leads to more wondering, more work, more hopes to be crushed, more time to be lost striving for something I’m not even sure I’m capable of…but at least I haven’t lost my mind.
The last post gives me chills..not because it’s so outwardly thought-provoking or unique (it’s not). Quite the opposite in fact. It’s making my skin tingle and my eyes water because of how accurate it is right now.
This has already gone much too far…And I’m stuck. Stuck between believing I have to weather the storm…or ending this impossible attempt at pretending we don’t exist, even just for a moment. Because we do exist, and we’re incomplete in our separate worlds.
Struggling to admit what I truly believe, if only because it leaves me vulnerable, broken without you. But I’m only fooling myself for a short time. Reality will collapse on top of me regardless of words.
It’s as if my future is already written, or at least the future I (know I’ll) want. Every moment in between is just filling up the space, it’s just to pass the time. I wish it were that simple. I wish it were that easy. It’s not, at least it’s not for me.
I have to analyze these feelings, my actions, their overall relevance, their percentage of truth and logic, what they mean now, what they’ll mean for my future. Over and over, the thoughts cycle through their potential outcomes. It’s exhausting beyond belief and I wish it could stop. But then I don’t really, because there’s a part of me that believes it’s the only thing that makes me any different than anyone else. It’s what lifts me above the masses.
There’s a large part of me that believes love is just like any other drug. We all strive for these moments that aren’t concrete or lasting. We chase with no end in sight. We fight with almost zero chance of victory. We endure torturous amounts of pain. We do all of that and more…just to get that high. And just like any other drug, when we think about the effects, the only thing that comes to mind is the high, not the strife and sacrifice that led to it, and not the slide into darkness that follows…just the high. Just the moment when the world felt balanced, dreams mixed into reality, and life just felt right.
It’s textbook addiction, but not only is it socially acceptable…it’s socially expected. My cynical side would like to file the feeling away as an evil fantasy. As a taboo. As something that lacks reality or perspective. But there’s one thing that keeps me from that. Every day I wake up, I think…
We (It) do(es) exist, and we’re incomplete in our separate worlds.