If I have ever hurt you, I am sorry, and please know it was not with intent. I have been hurt, and I know that hurt was not the intent.
I will hurt again. I will be hurt again. I will once again set myself up for the pain that is inevitable with breathing... and not talking. I'm very good at that.
What is, is.
The foundation of reason.
I have been very involved lately with the thoughts in my head. Some I will share. Most I will not. I am not intentionally enigmatic, if you find me so. I just... prefer to not share the more significant parts of me, and so I therefore elaborate and exaggerate the insignificant. That IS intentional.
It has been a very very long time since I've wanted to let someone else have that. There were a couple times over the past while I thought I may want to let that out again. I was wrong. So back in to me I go.
I've been thinking lately. (A terrible pastime, I know.) Most is for my brain stuff, but some I'll share.
I've been thinking about the merry-go-round... but that...
That's going in to the play I'm writing, unless it gets cut in final edit. So you'll just have to come to the fringe fest this year for more on that.
I've been thinking about lies. The lies we tell other people, because they are the lies we have told ourselves, and believed. I've been telling a whopper for about a decade now. Until I found my truth. This one's gonna sting for a while, and the end result will be invisible. Tarnished thread in my own little tapestry.
I've been thinking about decades. How each for me is like some strange chrysalis, and I'm now very near my ten year mark in SLC. I feel transformation coming. I'm not yet sure I'm comfortable in this new skin. It's different. It's neither pretty, nor shiny, but it's mine, and I must wear it.
New realities I must adjust to, and as I've always done, I set the emotion aside, and go in to my head. My head. My stupid lying to myself brain, that thirsts for epiphany, yet closes its own throat when epiphany arrives. That's a neat trick.
And there's more... So much more... and I know the tone of all this is maudlin, but the tone is perhaps as misleading as everything else. There is no pity in this self. Only discovery, and a charmed, if not overly romanticized sense of selves colliding.
I've been thinking about all the times I've died. Killed myself, or by myself been killed. Been reborn, once more with new illusion. Do I rise each time stronger? Wiser? Or just with a new map of lies with which to navigate this altered reality.
Is my frustration born of new doubt, or lessons not yet learned. Or once learned now forgotten to be learned again... and is there a difference.
Is this heartache new? Or a newly opened old wound? Is this longing mine? Or does it belong more to the fantasy of who I wish I was? Or used to be?
Can necromancy be used on only the best things we've left behind, leaving still to rest those parts we intentionally murdered?
Aren't I too old for identity crisis? Or is this the crisis that comes at mid life? Is it really a crisis if it's all in my head, and my outward appearance remains the same? Is it crisis if I can still sleep at night, or is it the same crisis that has plagued my entire life with lack of sleep?
And most importantly, how can I justify the new discoveries, with the existing desires? It is said that a true contradiction can't exist in nature. There is ample philosophical diatribe to support the thesis, but on the other hand Freud said everything is dicks, except cigars, and I'm pretty sure Freud was full of dick shaped shit, and maybe everything that is said is contrary to everything else that's said and there is no such thing as objective truth, but if that's true, then one could argue there's no such thing as objective lies, but that can't be true so there...THERE...is a goddamned rhetorical contradiction, which if nowhere else exists in my brain, which to my knowledge is natural, and ergo a contradiction does exist in nature so fuck you hypothetical semantician. I think two things, therefore I am two things. Very very contrary things.
I am my own best hypocrite. A veritable Janus on the rock, and both faces are true. And both faces lie. And so...
I will hurt.
And I will be hurt.
And I am I am I am
True to all of my selves.
Without apology, or exception.
Because this is what it means to be human.
To be alive.
To be open to new experience
And new truth
And because tomorrow I may be different than I was today
Does not mean that I didn't mean every single word I said yesterday.
I simply, and absolutely refuse to be limited in my experience by stagnation of principle.
The grey Jedi.
The chaotic neutral.
The Paladin of disorder.
Christ does it hurt.
My god how I laugh.
Just because your truth is not my truth does not mean we're dishonest.
And as always...there is the quest. The hero's (or anti hero's depending on perspective) journey.
Love in every step.
Beneath every breath.
Under every star, and atop each grain of sand. The motivating agent on every decision... truth or lie... laughter or tear drop, all of the words spoken...
Is the oh my god you've stolen my breath by simply existing...
Someday that love will kill me. It will. I will supernova because I've lost the strength and ability to contain it any longer.
But until then...
My god, you've stolen my breath by simply existing.