Walk with me, amidst the rainbowed clouds. Take my fears and rain them down, pounding on the cement ground. Let the pain pierce the sky, light a light show with thundering sounds. When it is all over; when the storm calms; the rain stops, the lightning passes and the sounds mere echos, look with me, beyond the horizon to the endless canvass of twinkling stars and know that heaven awaits.
Once upon a time, there was a village with peaceful villagers, unafraid of the wars and violence of the rest of the world. In the middle of the night a deadly power ravaged the village. Homes were burnt down, children were terrorized, men and women taken into slavery. Those left in the city came together and built a wall around their small and vulnerable city. The gates were locked with an iron chain and the villages depended on themselves for everything. A long time passed and none were allowed to enter the little village. Until one day, what seemingly was a hero knocked and offered security and strength. The villagers embraced this hero and let him into the gates. There were merriments all over and the people rejoiced, for finally they felt safe once again. However, when all the villagers were fast asleep and the hero was supposed to be guarding the village, he casually left the gate opened and went for a stroll. On his stroll he found some splendid leaves and sat himself down for a smoke with his pipe. While he floated off into his own little world, the village was left to burn and all those that were left were now gone... The hero, returning in the morning found the village in ruins. Instead of trying to salvage what was left, he ran away. The village was never to be again.
I reached out and got no response. What I so fearfully said was lost amongst the echos of the unwanted voices. This feeling is beyond being deserted - at least you would know that someone left. This feeling is like pouring out your heart and letting go of the one thing that knots your stomach to the one person you wanted to make that feeling go away to begin with and having them not acknowledgeyou ever said a single word.
Brokeness complete.
Why do I keep opening that door to those who don't want in? Why do I keep knocking at the doors that do not want to be opened?
Why do I keep hurting myself in hopes that that same wound no longer pains.
The scenario is simple. You broke the heart of the one you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with. Their wound healed, best it can. The hurtful things more or less a fragment of the past; a caution for the future. But life has moved on. Do you pry open those old wounds to reconcile something that is not reconcilable?
Perhaps the answer is only obvious to me.
Sometimes selfish notions to make oneself feel better should be disregarded. In making yourself feel better, the other person has now been re-damaged.
I tried not to think about it; I tried not to dwell upon it. What bothers me isn't the action. What bothers me is WHY the action. Why now? (Really - why EVER?!!! Lack of shame? Lack of conscience? Lack of everything and anything that would scream no?) Why kick up old dust that has long settled and blown away?
It will pass, just as many other things that bother me.
In the interim.... Where do I find comfort in this moment of abysmal loneliness. Can anybody even fathom reliving such a painful memory?
Once upon a time, the stars were not the limit and the sky was not too high. What happened to the youthful bliss. Today I am having my mini quarter life crisis (assuming I live to 104 .)
Anyway, back to my point. I remember just short of four years ago, the whole world was mine and if there was such thing as perfection, I had it. I was happy, I saw the world ahead of me for the conquering. I saw this amazing life. I had pure and unadulterated love in both my hands.
It's both a little amazing and a lot scary how much your ideals can change in such a short period of time. I think this morning the idealist in me died and a realist was born. Some say this is good, but I really think it's not. I'm a Libran you see and Libras need balance in everything in their lives. It's not an exaggeration, everything has to make sense. Everything is black and white. When the idealist dies, even that one little bit of me that was reserved to allow for grey and unknowns also dies. I realized this morning that I am extremely tired. Like this guy -->
There are reasons I could list, but listing them doesn't make them disappear, so I will save my time. Instead I'll just say that some of the circumstances can be altered, some can be fixed, some, I suppose, if I ignore long enough might even go away. Now... here's the realist speaking, "how do you quantify the time you allow for this phenomenon?" The once idealist (which also spawned a severe optimist) would have just said, "have faith". The realist asks, "In what?" Hm.
So I'm left to dream in techni-colours, in a blur, in a hopeless hope that maybe the idealist might awake and the realist calm itself.