Never let a certainty of what will be a point no further, become another point you stand amidst your own hurt. for you may hurt all the same, but with time it becomes a memory and not a constant.
Is there anything more consuming of our time, painful in our search of, or malevolently stolen from us by those who would prey upon us than the complete an utter singularity of being that is our very reason to be.
Who are we.
It is a melancholy cloud for some… a bitter fugue state of suffocation for others, Yet for a precious few it is an effervescent rambling of wanderlust to enjoy.
Then.. for many of the rest, it is an anchor of truth, affixing us to a spot we will never move from. Others it is a brand, be it freshly scoured into the flesh, or a old and familiar scar, but its mark will never fade.
But the precious few….. to whom the knowing of oneself is a boon and sorrow all at once, for they see then the torrent of all about them.. and will learn that no matter what, they cannot change even for a moment what those around them know.. or don’t know about who they are… for they will never be ready to see anything and will choose to see nothing, but what they need to see in the moment to be that they are ready to be.
Because of this.
Love will bring sorrow.
Devotion will deliver Misery.
Sacrifice invites heartbreak.
Forgiveness is rewarded with Spite.
It isn’t that a person, even one in pain, does not want to know who they are, its just they rather do anything in this world, than have someone see before they have a chance to see it and decide if they can stand what they have come to see, or worse who they have come to be.
People can be callous, indifferent, selfish, or without the will…. to have will for so many things. The range of these situations and circumstances are as diverse as we as individuals.
We anecdote such moments in such ways as “I just don’t have time for it” I really don’t care about it” or “It’s just not worth any more my time”
When we presented as such.. we begrudgingly admit, we may do the same.. with distractions, or hobby, recreation, novelty or the like.
Yet at times… it takes a more ominous and darker tone… like when a relationship or marriage ends.. or when a parent, be it divorce or simply life.. just abandons any effort, instead focusing on the easier and more rewarding part of their lives.. or at the very least.. that part causes the least woe..
This can also happen child to parent, sibling to sibling… Some of us carve out a neat .. comfortable and manageable world where our own conscience never need be revisited.. so whether it be child, parent, partner, loved one or sibling… we can erase them .. usually with the help with someone in our life.. who best prefers our attentions and.. cares little for what our conscience might bear.
But for those who are discarded… they do not cease to exist.. despite their excommunication, and state of non existence.. however justly, or unjustly earned. They abide in a place that few know, and fewer still can ever know the pain of
“Do you remember when I was something to you?”
I have had much to say, to so many, on the matter of what I have been, when I was another Me.
It seems so strange a thing, to speak in earnest words of how I am not that which I once was, and have them look at me the same. I find, in these moments, a palor of fear and doubt washes over me.
I want to scream ” Cant you see what I am saying!” Take them and shake them, for how can they not know how profound a truth I speak..? Cant they understand.. what I have been through…?
They do not.
I , I must then accept that those who hear nothing of what I have said.. No matter Its eloquence.. It soul shaking honesty… For they have been blessed by the ignorance unstolen by suffering and loss.
I calm… and sigh… and speak anew.. They may never know.
For they themselves can only hear me iF they have first
The battle for self righteousness has cost so many of us more than we care to admit. Those times where we stand defiantly on some principle to which some, or all, of the construct of our Psyche is leveraged upon and so we can’t relent for a moment one the force of our argument, yield even an ounce of the weight of our stance.
It can be said, however, that such adamant determination, is merely our frailty of being hidden behind the tremendous power of fear and doubt. To be sure though, such things are not just markers of the lesser measures of the human condition, but at times, cruelly earned brands of what pain and suffering we may have known.
There are times though when we will be moved, to not be moved, by something that should be common, but life makes all to rare for us to see, benefit from, and be certain of in any way that everyone who will see it will know.
It is seldom a comfort to have it at our side, and can alienate the world around us as often as it rallies others to our cause. But it will, in that fight to make clear that which we believe, that which we are, make strong the ground we stand on for both, and nothing will harden it more so.
We just must be ready to receive it when the time comes to embrace the truth.