|11:33 am - It's the things we do to ourselves|
Little things, designed to punish us for being human, for having feelings, attachments, for forgetting, even for a second, that other people are watching us.
We look through the fragments of the lives of others for a image of ourselves. A feeling we've made a difference. And what if we have? What if we've left an impression on the soul of another human. What then? How much responsibility do we take for that? How much is us? And how much is them? Where do we differ from the people who have changed us in ways we may not even know or understand.
Did you want to hear that you made a difference? It's gone well beyond that now. You know my heart. You know my mind. Time and distance has changed me little. I always am what I always was. But I'm different too. In ways you can't see. I do things differently now. I don't always face my issues head-on, but I do it more often than I once did. I don't always say what I mean, but I always try. And if the words lock up behind my lips, it doesn't mean I didn't think them. Once, they wouldn't have even been a thought. Whatever the reasons behind the decisions, I think we made the right ones. How it all plays out, where we go from here; we did the right things. We said the wrong things, and we hid what we felt, even from ourselves, but we did the right things. The Dutch ambassador is no fool/I must remember that.
So we sit in our silent boxes reflecting on what's changed. How we've changed, trying to sum up the whole of human existance into trite meaningless language designed to obscure rather than convey meaning. Even to my own eyes, it looks pretentious rather than heart-felt, stagnant rather than vibrant.
If I'd gotten more sleep, if I wasn't tormented by shadows, if...if...if. There are no words to describe this. The more I talk, the more I dance around the issues, afraid to reveal myself, afraid to stop until I have. And with every word I type, I consider who I really want to read this. This conveys a sense of doubt and hesitation, that I don't actually feel. Introspection, I feel. Questing, I feel. But confusion, I don't feel. And yet locking it would defeat the whole purpose, to let the people around me know that I value them in ways I do find it hard to articulate.
Current Mood: introspective