Few Words Of Meaning

It’s the truth that very little of my negative expressions have the weight of intent behind them, but are nevertheless tapping into a deep well of raw feeling. I’m guessing that’s a lot to do with my mental illness, but also to the ease at which I slide to the pole in my own cognitive processes. I think of all the failed moments, the disconnects of understanding… I don’t really wonder anymore why I’m alone, I just know it’s better if it ends up that way. I know I’m nearly intolerable, but in a way, that makes the sliver of those who can grapple with sustainable coexistence all the more special. I know I was as close as I was ever with anything when I loved J. She hates me forever times 8 now, but I’ll never ever forget how she made me feel. It’s all lost… burned up long ago in a pyre of crisping, dead flesh. The past is done, forever unchanging, drawing our attention only as long as we can stand to divert it.

Life forward has been hard, as it is for everyone. We all struggle, but we try not to drown. We don’t want to fail, but sometimes we do anyway. I do the best I can to learn something of benefit, and try to avoid hurting more people even though I end up doing just that sometimes. Does it slap at my sense of self-righteousness? Fuck yes it does. I live with pride, and shame, but neither defines who I am. People today have lost sight of the grey – the unclear fuzzy place between the starkness of polarization. The good, and the bad, living in a neutralized purgatory where both are separate from influencing the other but still hugely relevant. I can see why our view of things in the present moment has become polarized with such prominent examples available of the ease of extremity.

I’m a fool, but also fucking awesome. I do so many good things, and yet, I hurt others. Can we comprehend this contrast without totally imploding or blasting ourselves to thousands of pieces? Doubtful, but hopeful.

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