Somewhere along the line, I lost myself. I lost the music, the art, the words – oh, the words! I never would have thought. Me. No imagination. No creativity. No inspiration.
There must be something terribly wrong. This is just not the way I am. This is just not me.
My life has changed – I have changed. What’s more, it’s not for the better. Life, age, responsibility, money – the fighting, the loving, the fighting. Oh, the fighting.
The hatred, the words, the hate – where does it come from? What have I become? Moreover, what has become of me? With all I have been, where have I gone?
Who am I?
I am in need.
With the sudden, unexpected loss of my mother’s partner in the early hours of this morning, I have been forced to step back and reconsider the frailty of life. Even with the occasional tension between the two of us (perhaps for the competition for my mother’s attentions) and my distaste for some of his mannerisms, he took wonderful care of my mother over their too-short chapter. He was a good man.
I had just seen him on Monday. Apart from the normal ailments of a man in his 60’s (and even lesser, given his rigorously physical work-life) and those of a smoking man whom would have benefited from a healthier lifestyle (that my mother tried to give to him), he had no complaints. I suppose what I mean to say is, even with the cigarettes and lackluster food-choices, he showed no overt signs of heart disease or extraordinary issues with his lungs (for instance, like my own father’s emphysema).
And yet still
last night he closed his eyes
and this morning he was no longer;
Depression is a funny creature. Just when you think you are in the clear, She sneaks up behind you and pulls you back in.
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
The Hollow Men, T.S. Eliot
Have you ever sat on a bench at the park or waiting for the bus or in any number of public places? Whether or not you speak to the people around you (or even actively observe them), you do tend to notice something about the way they are or what they are doing.
Maybe the boy sitting beside you is rolling a joint. Or that girl over there has on heels that are too high and a skirt that is too short. Did those two in the corner just exchange something under the guise of a handshake? And I wonder if that girl is old enough to be with the man she’s walking with!
Now you’ve seen it. You can’t unsee it. You can’t pretend that they’re not there and that it didn’t happen.
But do you take the time
to pass judgment?
I have to be strong so that he can be weak. Well, at least that’s the long and short of it. He’d rather not be here either. But we’ve just done the back and forth so many times. Had it ever worked out, we would have stayed. Honestly, had he never asked me to go with him to Tenerife in 2009, we still would probably be in Italy. Well, I would. Maybe it would all be different…
I live life by a Soundtrack. Music lends itself to any situation. Whether it be in regards to creativity, productivity, or even your emotional state, music is always there to stimulate and bring to life ideas.
Reading Your Writing Lady‘s post “Should You Listen to Music While Writing?” brought this idea to the forefront. Whether music is a helpful base or a harmful distraction to your endeavors – well, that’s really dependent on the type of person and the type of music.
This is an excerpt from my last (rather long, rather verbose) post. I thought why bad boys have such appeal was a concept that deserved more specific discussion:
My best friend from childhood, the one I always speak about, calls me for relationship advice. Or, rather, a decision between two “boys.” She is my age and just as smart, but she is wholly inexperienced in exploring herself and in relationships. I have been married nearing 5 years, so I can understand her seeking me out for advice. Especially on such an appropriate query:
M: One of them is so smart and so respectful; he wants to treat me so well, but I just don’t feel it. The other? Such a bad boy. Felonies and DUI’s galore. A drop-out, a possible drug-dealer – no future, really. But he’s just so exciting.
At what point do you admit that if it’s you against the world that you must be wrong about something? If you are constantly angry, if you constantly feel slighted, if every day is a fight – at what point do you stop to think:
I must be
about something —
For every four days of fighting, you have two of apologies and one that really doesn’t seem so bad. Then the final night passes, and it all starts again from the beginning like a broken record that keeps spinning the same lilting melody. Your life becomes this daunting, unfulfilling thing, and you can’t help but to wonder why?