Stories

In response to someone's opinion,
I have asked myself more than once
"Is that really who I am?" or
"Is that really the way I seem to people?"

And I forget.

I forget that perception is colored by experience
-- Not only someone's experience of me,
but of their entire life.
I am certain that I do seem
one way or another
to that person.
It may be because of what I have done or said.
But it is also because of the way
they have written me as
a character in the story of their life.

We all write our own stories.
I am the main character in mine.
(Sometimes the hero,
sometimes the villain,
but always me.)
Everyone else is a secondary character.
Or tertiary... Or...
Well, you get the point.
But that is only in my story.
In my head.
I see them as a certain way,
but this is only the way that they are to me.
In someone else's story,
they are the main character.
And I am... Whatever they decide that I am.

It is relatively easy for me
to accept that everyone else
is probably different than the way
that I percieve them.
That I am only seeing
a portion of who they are.
I can often remember that
when one person speaks of another,
it is only their judgment or idea of things,
and not the truth of that soul.

I forget that, when someone speaks of me,
they are only speaking of what their ideas are.
I forget that I am not the main character.
They do not see my actions or words
through my point of view,
nor hear my inner dialogue.
They do not know my motives.
They only know that
the character they have written for me
is doing or saying something
that does or does not fit with their story.

Have you seen that guy?

Innocent, Confident
With a hint of curiosity

and an air of what you see

is what you get
fun to be around
Laugh at himself
Never worried
Life is short but whats the hurry
Bright-eyed and

ready to take on the world

Have you seen that guy
That everybody says I used to be
Have you seen that guy
Where along the way did I lose me?

He was full of life
Looked on the brighter side
If it was worth a chance he'd take it
Said that life is what you make it
But a few wrong moves

led to a few wrong turns
And once your burned

your not the same
You tend to shy from the flame
I hate to think he's givin up his dream

I Don't Actually Like the Word "Random."

- I don't actually like the word "random." I feel it has become overused in recent years. It's like some sort of mythical 'cool badge,' applied haphazardly to people too lazy or incapable of actual humor or wit. Granted, it can be funny, but it isn't magic. It should be used only sparingly, like garlic or speckled shoe laces.

- I think my vision got worse over the weekend. I've noticed that I cannot discern numbers on the television from the same seat and same distance as before the weekend. I also squint a little bit more with my computer. It kinda sucks. I guess I'm gonna have to bump eye care up on the 'to-do' list.

- I don't like being pressured about things. I'm a pretty laid-back person, and when I feel like someone is trying to pressure me into something, I tend to shut down. I also try very hard to set low expectations about engagments, like certain parties or events, because I honestly don't know if I will be able to make them. When it turns out I can't, I prefer that there was no serious expectation that I would have been there in the first place, because I hate letting people down. I hate it even more when they can't handle it like an adult once I tell them that I can't make it.

- Of related topic, there are few people on this planet that are more emotionally-capable and prepared to write someone off with no remorse and no chance of reconciliation. I don't know if it's a strength of my character or a flaw, or a little bit of both, but I can say goodbye forever and never change my mind.

- I would be a very successful person if I could turn that energy and determination to other areas in my life. If I ever figure out how, or rather, decide to, that would be great. So... yeah.

“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.”

I awoke today thinking about forgiveness.

We have all had occasions where
we have either been asked
to pardon or to seek penance.
What I find rather interesting
is how difficult we often find it
to forgive - ourselves.

In the course of living life,
we all come across stumbling blocks
that are thrown in our way.
There is little we can do about their presence,
we simply must learn how to navigate them.

I find it curious that even with
all of those things that can not be helped,
we have this way of placing their burdens
squarely upon our own shoulders
- heaping guilt and blame where
it simply does not belong.
It is much like the baggage we all carry,
though with the additional weight of guilt.

We have all done it I believe,
played the If Only I Had Done This Game.

I think, that if we find ourselves
in a situation where we are placing
blame upon ourselves, we need to first ask,
"Could I have changed anything?"
Is there realistically anything that
we could have done to modify the outcome?

We all have hopes, dreams and goals
- things that we wished we could have done;
however, if you did all that you could in the moment,
there is no guilt to be had. Not an ounce.
We can only do what we can do
- especially if those things involve the cooperation of others.

Sometimes, we must forgive ourselves,
realizing that we did all we could
and that no one blames us but ourselves.

The time for pardon has come.
The time for removing that weight of the past
and setting it aside so that you can walk a little taller.
It does not mean we forget
our promises to ourselves or to others,
it only means that we remove
the heaviness of unnecessary guilt
that lies upon our soul.

Carry only those things with you
that whisper of the past beautifully
and those that speak to the future and your goals for it.

Lost

I looked for you today,
searched for your hand
with the blindness that comes with surety
and as I reached for you
- all I found was empty air.
There was little surprise
- only a deep and abiding loneliness
accompanied by the knowledge
that it is I that let go.

I released my hold,
my fingers slipping from yours
as I spotted that butterfly
just over the horizon and I gave chase.

The butterfly eluded me
and when I turned back to find you
- you were gone.

Vanished like some figment of my imagination
- almost as though you were never there. Almost.

I know better than to attempt to
fool myself into believing
the scars do not remain.
They are deep and only the surface has healed.

I find myself at a loss.
Uncertain where my path will lead.
In my naivete, I counted on you
always being there
and now you've left a hole.

I think, I will just settle right here
- sit down for a spell
and perhaps the wind
will blow something
in my path to fill it with.

Or perhaps, I will gather the strength
to get up and find it on my own.

Dream a little dream of me

Things remembered amidst the space between slumber, things forgotten when one is awake. Where the deepest layers of memories become become the outmost layers of one's dreams.

Which is reality? Which are illusions? One cannot tell amidst the languor upon an awakening. Yet in this lassitude are remnants of the past dreams and memories.

Or perhaps they are: At the same time, both truth and fiction.

A vast nebulous with no boundaries... An emptiness equivalent to my own existence. I dreamt such a dream... A never ending dream... And in this dream I saw you…

I saw us.