When past comes to the present,
and hindsight suddenly sheds light
on things long forgotten in the shadows,
how can I still stare into the night?
I take a step back to the sign
where once stood a crossroad I never saw.
Again today it stands, not the same but
I’m still in danger of wandering down some lane
without the slightest thought of choice.
We thought we’d fly to the next path
on the backs of dreams only to find
the ground comes up faster than it seems.
Those that were left behind were left to wonder
where their paths took them
while their own paths took them
to far shores, where it was hard to be sure
why and where the wonder was left.
Here we stand today, many miles but side by side
nestled in the hope of memory.
What we missed before won’t be missed again
and each other not missed again
and opportunity not missed again
and that crossroads not missed as
we turn to a new journey.
Let lead the way with hope that the night has passed
and cast aside our blindness at last.
If you’d said what you needed to say,
then your mind would be clear cut like
a lack of final forest for the
Broken blood vessels in faded hearts
forgotten lie among the memories made
If I’d gotten any closer, I’d fall away.
If I’d made a move to stay,
the first would have faded to gray,
gotten laid to rest with the
past and rest.
If I’d held on tighter,
the day would cease getting righter and the
self would be lost to sea.
I see loss every time something is gained.
Something is taken from a.
The pain pauses with pleasure,
sides with whether or not that time
will be forgot or live as a legend
in someone’s eyes, through memories lie.
Life does not.
I’m glad these days I have not forgot
that life is for living.
Screen shot from Lufia & The Fortress of Doom (SNES, 1993). I know I’d like fries with that.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but it keeps coming up. I’m moving forward, but since I’ve moved back to where I grew up, the past has been saying ‘hello’ at odd times and scaring the ever living CRAP out of me.
It then leaks into my subconscious and leaves a weird residue. I have weird dreams. I think about it too much. I get a strong urge to move (and I hate moving and rather like my place).
On one hand, being here is perfect. I have studio space. I have a place to live. My family is nearby. I have a nice yard.
On the other, it’s perfectly wrong for me. Memories live next door. I’m having a hard time finding a job that fits and isn’t ‘just another job’, but is something like the beginning of a career. I don’t know a lot of people I have deep relationships with nearby. There are a few (and I love you guys), but I feel like I’m still to far from them. They are an forty-five minute drive away. I really got to love being able to walk to everyone and everything. I’m back to being super inactive with little appetite. Then there is my family being nearby not always a good thing. Their problems become my problems.
I have issues with the general attitudes of people here. Yes, it’s a generalization, but I got used to people being friendly.
One of the first things that happened to me when I got here is that I got followed home by some woman in her car who screamed at me because somewhere I supposedly cut her off. She wanted me to get out of the car. I felt like I was on an episode of Law & Order or part of tomorrows news. I remember there was a news story years back about a person in MA who was shot with a crossbow and killed after being followed by someone with road rage. I figured I’d be safe in my truck as long as she didn’t have a gun or crossbow.
I feel like this is some psychological thing I should be able to break. I’m not in high school, but this is where I was when I was in high school. I spent a lot of my time a couple of streets over. I built up a new identity in college and post college. I’m someone who was a lot more confident, outgoing, and happy. Sure, I’ve kept the cynical half-smile and sarcasm, but I’ve grown up. Just by being here, I’m identifying with parts of my past that, though they are irrelevant, are managing to psych me out.
So, I build new memories of this place.
I am somehow simultaneously living and avoiding here. I interview for jobs outside of Boston, I take classes in the same area, and I hang out with friends up there too. I stay in my apartment when I’m here. There’s not a ton to do here in the middle of winter with little money, but there are things.
I live here. This is where I came from. I don’t hate this place, but I almost feel like it hates me. The people and attitudes I am trying to avoid are the ones with the issues. I need to stop owning that.
You think you know yourself, your friends, what you’ll do today, tomorrow, even next week. You think you know that you will never do something or that you’ll eventually accomplish that one thing that you’re sure you will get done before you roll over into the next world.
We assume all the time. It’s not just for asses.
We assume the floor will be underneath us when we roll out of bed in the morning.
And sometimes, it’s not. Sometimes, there’s not even a bed to roll out of.
I try to take this knowledge and with it appreciate all the times something does work out, go as planned, or just doesn’t go horribly wrong. I try to be thankful when I do have a bed to roll out of.
It’s a mantra. At least this. It could be worse that.
Bad memories are also mantras. All the worries and should haves tend to repeat, chanting in my head.
There are things I arm myself with in anticipation of a time when I lose sight of the way life is. So, I arm myself:
Swallow whole your whole self.
Every part is a piece.
Be yourself at peace.
Be content with being
the being who strives.
we strive to embody eternity,
when all we can be is now.