Some things Cant be real.. ever…

via Of all the things we wished .. we wish most for what wishes were made for all along.

What became of that person before I became what I have come to be.

We know who we are, or , at least we should, and any given moment that we do, that knowing is bound in who we were, in the where we have come from.

Now this seems a perilous conundrum, rife with unneeded complexity. Yet when that codex is deciphered, It should yield some understandable clues that we can solve the puzzle of us by and large.

This is not what I speak to now.

I am talking about those times when we Know full well, exactly who we are, but we become so fixed on what that means to us, we read into it again , and again,  something else, we literally redefine ourselves in the blindness of our truth, till we are…

not ourselves at all.

The damage is then done…  the simulacrum that has replaced that we knew ourselves to be, Stares at us from the mirror of our soul.. surveying the damage to every part of our lives.

“How did we get here” we ask…

There is no one to answer. We have lost the person who could have.

The person we were, before we became that which we came to be.

Take faith in song, its the only think that won’t let you down.

The pain that comes when you trust that in the end, people will be true to who they are, and not what we wanted them to be.

We always want things to work out in the way that we put are minds too, when those people which we anchor that precious state of love and trust upon, so we can assuage our worries and doubts, and seek our hopes and dreams.

They can be Sibling or spouse, parent or paramour, oldest friend, fiance, or would be true love.

We want, we need .. for them to be the persistent and resolute place, that we take to for solace, comfort or hide from the world, they should be a place of strength, a beacon in the dark, to guide us, put us back on the path, give us purpose and most of all the one and true bastion of trust where we never fear betrayal or be failed.

Yet…

We come to know better.

We desperately need to believe we are wrong…  but we know the truth. This knowledge may be something vetted as we have witnessed through actions upon others, or perhaps some gnawing perception we cannot let go of, though would deny it with all our might, or worst we have learned it ourselves through trust given and squandered..  and we just cant believe .. though we knew the truth all along.

It was not what we knew or when we  knew.. it was always them, it was and always be who they were, who they will be… sometimes we understand this .. sometimes we do not ..

but the most excruciating truth is that we know they will fail us .. again.. no matter what we need them to be.

The Truth only is welcome, when we can make it serve us (A whiskey Lamentation)

Everyone seeks a herald of the truth, or a would be earnest keeper, that would serve us best. However, should it reveal our vices, or be some oculist to ensure clarity of  our being, then we fear it would reveal… Us

This endless merry go round… our need of the truth of us to be known.. and at any given moment… the devastation we will wrought.. to ensure, such truth will never come to be.

We ache.. fear.. long.. beg.. lament.. terrorize… wish for… destroy … ache … ruin… hide from…  sabotage… and surrender to… all for the same

THE TRUTH … OF US.

may we never know it… may others break us for it..

But either way.. may we know peace… 

When Fear is all about you.

The destructive force of fear… What it does to us even as we do Nothing. It is the teacher of woe, the ender of purpose, the stealer of dreams. The Lesson is always the same. Abide in it, and you will consume first all you love, then you.

What Say you

Fear is part of being alive, some measure of it is factored in to nearly every aspect of our daily lives. It takes a myriad of forms. From the ambiguous, such as a random lighting strike(been there, done that), to the benign, (slipping and falling and breaking something… yep.. been there, done that too) To the dubiously required.(life, home, auto, flood, dental insurance). We live our lives in some way, evermore in its presence.

While some of us through life’s conditioning, or careful nurturing, or even genetic uniqueness, do not experience fear in the common fashion. They are the outliers, they typically come in two forms, though with the incredible diversity of division they may vary well beyond my simple characterizations, for the purpose of generalization I shall heap them in two groups.

For some.. Fear, is the great adventure that awaits them, or the looming challenge that will validate them. They are the trap waiting to be sprung; a fury begging…

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The Cruelty of believing.

The torture we exact upon ourselves when we let go of skepticism and objectivity hard earned through our own pain and lessons learned from the same. We, instead, become blind from the waters of optimism, we choose to take to plunge into, because we heed no voice that would call us back from the perilous cliff above it. even, our own.

“Its not like before”

“It will all work out”

Its just not the same”

You don’t know them like I do.”

We have a reason … an excuse.. to fit any desperate plea to call us back from the ledge.

We will leap no matter what.

It is that need for faith, not in someone else but ourselves, that we must hastily reforge. An All consuming need to right and true ourselves.

And so.. do we crash on the rocks…. No, are we washed out to Sea.. no… We flounder.. tread water helplessly, for all to watch.. till we are water logged and spent.

We Just might call for help.. maybe we drown… or we might be blessed with tide and crashed upon the shore, but in the end we will have few moments to reflect on how we came to this moment, when we ignore all, even ourselves in what we chose to believe.

 

Remembering Why we wanted to Forget.

via Remembering Why we wanted to Forget.

Is breá liom a bheith ag súil agus tá súil agam le grá.

A Bowl, a dram, and a life now gone, err before it came to be.

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.