I have some regrets. Don’t believe anyone who says they don’t have a few. I have some things that bug and eat at me. I’ve made deals with people this year that I shouldn’t have. I’ve looked long into myself this year and continually came up empty. I was searching for things that just weren’t there as if I was taking inventory and double-checking for things that might have been stolen from me.
Unfortunately, I was the only person that I stole from this year. I stole time. So much in fact that I misused it, misspent it, wasted it and carelessly chased things that were absolutely unobtainable in any life.
I have secrets. I carry these things around with me like invisible luggage. Sometimes you might see me and wonder what bag it is that I’m dragging behind me, but in reality it’s a twelve piece set. You only see your own sins but you don’t see mine. You see the inventory that I should’ve never have been privy to. You see things that are so damn familiar to you, that you could almost grab them yourself and take them with you. But who would? Who would want any of these things? I guess that’s why they call it a burden. We shoulder it alone.
I’ve turned away from almost every one I know in return for solitude and complete peace. In these last two years, I can honestly report that I have anything but. I have little solitude and no peace. But I guess these things are like art – subjective and internal. If there ever was a time that I question the world around me, now would be it. The skies of my world in the middle of day look like night. The people I know, I really don’t. The people that know me, really don’t. The books I read now taste like dust in my mind, the food I eat touches me not at all. This is what it is to live though, I know this. This is what it is to have gone through this past year or more. I thought earlier that I had been here before, but I know deep down that I haven’t.
There are no road signs here. There are no streetlights or guideposts. I believe this is what they call the perimeter. The edge of what is known. From here out, it should be all new … if that’s any consolation. Out here … no one cares. No one comes looking for you when you go missing. No one will think about you later and a time will come when no one will remember when you were even around. That’s just the way it is. I can live with that. I have to. It’s nothing even really to speak about, just another fact.
That’s okay, though. We all have a different path through life, no matter how close we momentarily become. Like leaves on a pond, the jagged edges keep them connected until the current breaks their grip and sends them off alone.
In all of this, I have one thing that I find helpful … and that’s plenty to laugh at.