All the sky's alight.
All the sky's alight.
Before the storms come, let us give thanks for this briefest of sunny days. I wonder what all of it means, and when I'll feel good again. I'm trying not to get discouraged, but it's not easy. I don't have any religion, drugs, or obsessions to hide behind. This is me, under these conditions and trying to find a way back up...and I will do it. I have to; too many people are relying on me, too much rides on my beating this malaise, this great darkness, and burning my way back into brighter tidings.
I know I'm a whiner. I know it could be worse. I also know that a great deal of this is all my fault, and that's a lot to live with. I wouldn't wish my conscience (and I most assuredly DO have one!) on anyone, right now. I can't even remember where all of this started, but I'm pretty certain it goes a long way back.
Maybe I shouldn't have bought into others' expectations, but it seemed a better path at the time...and frankly, it still does. Would you rather live with the notion of being monstrous, misunderstood, and prone to stupid, stupid mistakes, or would you rather believe that it is your great gift to always find a way to make things work, make people like you despite your deformities and strange ways, and you can do whatever you set your mind to?
In between, there is reason. I know there are odder balls than me; I know there are taller, fatter, and less attractive people; I know that other people make bigger mistakes, or face far greater challenges...but that awareness does not change the fact that I have to fix my own life, my own heart, mind, soul, and body, and I have to do it myself. Nobody is going to speak up for me; nobody is going to hold my hand; nobody is going to validate my existence or, in the absence of such validation, blow sunshine up my ass.
It's down to me.
Solo.
And I have no idea what to do.
Dammit. This is one of those times when even the wrong move is a move, and even a mistake can bring a learning opportunity. The sad, sick fact is that I am scared of letting people down again. Yes, that includes myself; one of the first casualties of a compromised conscience is altruism. I'll do everything I can for everybody I can, but I think I might have to fix myself first...at least, that's the case if I want to do more than offer lip service to those in need. I've done that for long enough, I know.
Now is a time for heroes.
If you see one, tell them to call me. Please.
Before the storms come, let us give thanks for this briefest of sunny days. I wonder what all of it means, and when I'll feel good again. I'm trying not to get discouraged, but it's not easy. I don't have any religion, drugs, or obsessions to hide behind. This is me, under these conditions and trying to find a way back up...and I will do it. I have to; too many people are relying on me, too much rides on my beating this malaise, this great darkness, and burning my way back into brighter tidings.
I know I'm a whiner. I know it could be worse. I also know that a great deal of this is all my fault, and that's a lot to live with. I wouldn't wish my conscience (and I most assuredly DO have one!) on anyone, right now. I can't even remember where all of this started, but I'm pretty certain it goes a long way back.
Maybe I shouldn't have bought into others' expectations, but it seemed a better path at the time...and frankly, it still does. Would you rather live with the notion of being monstrous, misunderstood, and prone to stupid, stupid mistakes, or would you rather believe that it is your great gift to always find a way to make things work, make people like you despite your deformities and strange ways, and you can do whatever you set your mind to?
In between, there is reason. I know there are odder balls than me; I know there are taller, fatter, and less attractive people; I know that other people make bigger mistakes, or face far greater challenges...but that awareness does not change the fact that I have to fix my own life, my own heart, mind, soul, and body, and I have to do it myself. Nobody is going to speak up for me; nobody is going to hold my hand; nobody is going to validate my existence or, in the absence of such validation, blow sunshine up my ass.
It's down to me.
Solo.
And I have no idea what to do.
Dammit. This is one of those times when even the wrong move is a move, and even a mistake can bring a learning opportunity. The sad, sick fact is that I am scared of letting people down again. Yes, that includes myself; one of the first casualties of a compromised conscience is altruism. I'll do everything I can for everybody I can, but I think I might have to fix myself first...at least, that's the case if I want to do more than offer lip service to those in need. I've done that for long enough, I know.
Now is a time for heroes.
If you see one, tell them to call me. Please.
posted by Thom Guthrie, Bassist and Adventurer at 11:31 AM
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