Thinking Aloud.
Having serious conversations with people is hardly an easy pill to swallow. Forcing yourself to hear what others find as flaws and missteps can result in wonderful or catastrophic circumstances. For me, it’s a physical tightness, muscle stretched over bone, a stomach about ready to burst. But mentally it’s just…there. “Okay. You are right about points A, B and C. D I’m a bit foggy on. E is uncalled for but I understand F.” The worst thing about personal observance is none of it just happens. As much as I have tried to make it so, one thing or another waves it’s arms wildly in my path in an attempt to knock me off my steady line of resolution. A big bellowing, dark figure with fists like sledge hammers, dark horns and yellow eyes, rows and rows of teeth, gnashing all the while.
Your words bring to light moments of regret. Say this, do that and then instantly reflect and wonder where it came from. “That’s not you.” At all.
A couple close friends of mine, per my insistence, explained their change of heart towards me. For one it seems severe, for the other, it just is. Do with it as you may. But change. But how? But have I already? But how do I know if no one ever tells me?
Honestly, I’ve taken the criticism and it’s either confirmed suspicions or elaborated on established yet forgotten sets of facts. I am here, but I’d rather not be here alone. So where improvements can be made I will make them, as long as all parties involved understand where each other is coming from. Understand that you walked into my life when I was at my best and had the unfortunate privilege of being there when it crumbled around me. For your help, thank you. I’m sorry my resurrection has not been picture perfect. I’m sorry for changing into the person I have seemingly always been. It took me three years to leave her behind the first time.
Your words are going to sit in my apartment, in a tidy box in the corner. Out of the way, but never forgotten. Referenced from time to time. They always have been in a way. There’s not much more to say than that.
It’s been a while. I don’t know how much you can gather from texts and social posts but maybe it’s enough to make you dislike me. Maybe it’s enough to create judgements. Maybe it’s enough to destroy everything. I’ll take your words to heart and I’ll keep surviving here. As me, whoever me really is. Doing what I do, with a watchful eye, a scrutinizing one when it is called for, fine-tuning where necessary. All I ask in return is some truth, some reciprocation if I’m deserving of it. If it’s too much then, well, okay. It was fun while it lasted.
Until next time.
