The Next Inevitable Step
Bear with me as I try to find my legs with this all again. I’m still quite rusty and only recently back in touch with the urge to write. I may even make up for lost time. I cannot say that there will be cohesion in anything I write, just that it will be a part of me.
One subject that I have always written about is love. Since the first I started really writing, it was love. In all these years, I can’t think of a single time I have written positively about it. It has always been unrequited, lost, or forlorn. I always wanted to write about what it felt like to be in love, but I never knew what it was like. I wanted to write happy love songs, thick enough to make you puke, but I had never had it. I thought I had, but I was the only ever really involved in it. I’ve loved, but I have never been loved. In that, came everything I had written. It was an expulsion of the pain that I felt, the hatred that I held, and the loss I had.
You can see a progression in the writing. As time went on and still I had not found love and I walked into the same traps, the despair grew and the hope waned. When I was young, I thought I would be married and having kids by 20. I had hope that my life would head that way, as it was what I wanted. I always knew I was meant for that sort of thing, it felt right. Even after I had my soul crushed, I still hoped for it, but that hope had started to die. When I met 20 alone, I thought maybe 23. And then that came and went and I was left wondering if it would ever happen. Once that thought caught hold, it kept escalating. Year by year, day by day, hour by hour until I could no longer escape it. Until just the thought of finding someone seemed like an impossibility. At the deepest and darkest, I was wondering what I would do if I saw 40 and was still alone… and it was not good. Bad would be too weak a word. It was tragic. It was too much to handle, it was the end of hope. It was gone for good, and its loss stopped me in my tracks. I gave up on everything and couldn’t move forward and it propelled me further down than I had ever gone before. And I saw no way out. If this is all there was for me, why bother doing anything?
Somewhere, I’m not sure where, deep down in that darkness, a pinpoint of hope managed to penetrate. Maybe it had always been there, but I had never noticed it before. I didn’t really know what to do with it at first. Didn’t even really know what it was at first. Truthfully, I’m not even sure I really know what it is even now. As I write this, the rest flowed, but now I come to a point where all I have is speculation. There is hope now, but it is not all consuming. I still doubt it. I have too much history to truly believe it. But, the hope is there and as I sort my life out and move towards the future and what I feel I am supposed to do, the hope grows. It is slow, but it grows.
I’ve lost my way in this, but such is the path this thread took. I can never predict where these will end and, sometimes, not even where they will start. In truth, this is likely not even done. It is far from polished, but it is as it was released, and I do not think I should change that. Truth be told, I lost my way somewhere in the middle of this and I think it found it’s own path out. I think that as I go on, this will mimic the descent. The beginning will be manic, as the previous ending was, but as time goes on the mania will subside, cohesion will come into it, and the darkness will fade. It will never be fully cohesive though, there is insanity in these waters and I embrace it as a I would a lover.