If You really Knew Me You Would Not Like Me yadda yadda

I am filled with pain. Not the pains I covered a thousand pages of  dribble with twenty years ago, all that angry young man angst and "what you rebellin´ against...what you got" bullshit, but I am  filled with actual pain and suffering. The type of anguish that comes with age and decay and from drinking daily from a bottomless well of regret and doubt.

Boredom and frustration are the only colors on my palette. I cannot seem to gather myself and my moments in the manner I had always imagined I would... long before this time in life. I am forced into accepting the fact that I will never be able to change and that there is nothing for me to change into. I can, with work, make modifications. I can airbrush some glaring flaw to the point it is not so noticeable and embarrassing. But I see now that I will be this thing that I have always been.

I have to confess that I am not unique in any way at all. I have done terrible things and I cringe when I remember certain of my deeds and words. But I am easy on myself and I see another side to the history of it all now. I recall odd moments and shameful decisions. The sheer cold calculus of reason and the lava flow of feeling. Thinking and feeling and all the universe in a hug goodbye.

There were long years of obsessions and compulsions that ruined my life. And I am the only one responsible, and yet I somehow sense that I (what I define as "I") was not the only thing involved in all those dark moments. I was there and I was sane and sound, but I seem to feel some strings were pulling me here and there, and still they do.

Maybe I seek a way to excuse my mistakes and absolve myself of my "crimes." In fact I do not. I  faced the repercussions for my vain and self serving actions. I sufferd alone and I wish not to recount the terror I once knew day to day for years on end. I am not unique and my story pales in comparision I am sure. I am simply wondering what really was happening back then. What is happening now...tonight? The way fish are unaware of water, I wonder about the currents and forces that guide and determine my life.

I am sorry for the wrong things I have done and the people I loved but hurt and I wish forgiveness for those wrongs. But what am I to say and do tonight about the wrongs and pains I will cause tomorrow? I seem weary of not knowing my own heart.

12:22 AM - 1/2/2006 - post comment