Wooaah, today’s been pretty productive eh?
Anyway I wrote this for someone from a long time back.
Its an apology, I think
I know she’ll never come across this but still…
Here goes:
I realise that I am probably a memory you do not want to recall. It is probably a good thing too.
Now, some time since the whole affair. It occurred to me that I did not sit down and write about it. When you do you think calmly. Things become clearer as they often do in hindsight.
I blame myself for the whole thing. I was angry without knowing why. Not that the problem has been resolved but its reason has since become clearer.
I had walked down too many wrong paths since then and it is only through the combined and continued goodwill and kind graces of uncommon strangers and kin that I am not in a gutter as I otherwise would undoubtedly be.
It seems like when you have started on the wrong foot you never quite shake it off. Like an hideously ugly scar you forever hide.
Writing now, I know you will probably never get to read this. Perhaps the reason why this is directed to you is because I find it easier to externalise what I feel. That is to write to somebody.
And it’s easiest to write to someone who’s special, even if it was all past.
You probably have felt it. About this. Sometimes certain things or events spark off an impulse to feel something, to want to do something. Most times you never get it down on paper. It gets lost. Lost forever. The best thoughts and intentions are never said. They are never known. Forgotten to forever drift off some distant breeze.
Often the memories that are provoked drive me crazy. It drives me close to the edge. Sometimes I plunge off. I never hit bottom though… funnily. I think the pain most often comes from the fact that I fucked up. I fucked it up. On my own. Without anyone’s help. Not having someone to blame or having a handy excuse to hide behind.
Then I feel the searing ache, I turn and run to hide behind the petticoat of defeat. Comforting, accepting defeat. And slowly die a little every time. I know I have already spent a great deal of life’s reserves to this point. I know I am close to the end.
Yet I still am weak. I still run and hide. Run because it is easier. Hide because I feel I can no longer gather enough strength to face my demons. To face them.
But I must. I must because I know tomorrow, maybe the day after, someone will come, something will happen and my life will begin to thaw once more. I need to gather and spark the fire…
