Poetry: #106 When They Say Things to You That You Want to Believe But You Find You Cannot (Used 14)
A selection from a personal collection: Used
Article voiceover
Preface
As this collection unfolds each week, I want you, dear reader or listener, to understand that no matter what you’re going through, what you’ve been through, there is an end—there is light at the end of the tunnel. Letting go of the past is only possible if you live in the present. Make the past history, learn what you can about yourself, at whatever pace is comfortable, and I promise your present will take you to a brighter future.
When They Say Things to You That You Want to Believe But You Find You Cannot
When has it ever been so impossible to comprehend the situation at hand than when the predicament present is unbearable? The question asked should not be what blood has rained from the sky, but what has fallen from you. My lady of the night, I met you in the bar. I found you strangled by some gentleman’s collar. It is you who I wished to speak with and you I found an attraction that I could not reconcile. You were out of my league and there you were discussing with me, engrossed in the conversation that held me at the edge of my seat. The irreconcilable conscious counting within my head was preparing me for the very moment that I always dread; the time when I speak a statement not in your favor and I lose you forever. But it did not come. It was then I knew you were special, that you might know how to accept me for who I was… Yes, it was then I knew I was willing to do things I have never done before… The instant I recognized this I shrunk into my shell for several more seconds. Then, I burst forth ready for the nights adventures! It was not that day that I dreaded but if we were to meet again. What might happen then? Would my curse become realized or will my initial doubts of ever befriending you be mistaken? My mind could not grasp the integrity of the situation and my morality altered to fit the persona I had begun to adapt not a week earlier. My ethical understanding has shifted and during that time my morality had been questioned. Was it not you who spoke of things I could not possibly discern as valid? Were you not the one who spoke against my moral code and proved that I had been lying to myself for months? Why must I be so ignorant of my own changes when I welcome the changes around me, the environment allows me to adapt yet my own convening thoughts would not show me what internal processes and beliefs I have altered to fit the reality of my situation. I remember telling someone much like yourself, the one I pay for week after week to simply speak to someone who will listen and provide feedback without judgment, that I wished to understand the reality of my friends and how to maintain them. Needless to say I have been so selfish being selfless for my friends I forgot what I might mean to them and how I might perceive my meaning and reality with them. Truth is, I know these relationships and boundaries all too well, far better than I know the reality in which I sit this very moment. And as my candle dwindles I call it my token. My scent and peripheral recollection when I remember writing this down years from now; it is my token. My memory of when I finally understood that I know my friends, even the ones I call acquaintances, far better than I know myself. It is not inherently a bad situation, knowing others so well; the issue is that I do not know their boundaries with me since I do not know what I need. Since I am unaware of my personal interests, my social joys, desires, and longings I cannot possibly accept someone else’s limits when in relation with me. I might trust too easily, fall too hard, speak too much, and show no emotional response at all. In the end it doesn’t really matter, I tried far too hard to remain friends with those whose tolerance of who I have become is miniscule at best and pushed away the people who I needed most. Even as I tried to keep all I know, I sought to convince myself and those around me my visions and meandering thoughts were as right as the rain in April. I cannot condemn nor condone the lies I have believed. Regardless of their beauty, their words, their pity. I see only pity in those around me, and when I am not able to twist their words to pity I find distain for who I am and that hurts me even more. There is no desire I have more than to understand others, to understand my limits and what I need to do to bring myself to a happy balance with those in my life. I may wish to find peace with those I must forget in all three senses of the word, but I know deep down my love for those I have held most dear will persevere throughout the time I spend in my daily life afterwards. I know the memories will travel through time and force me to my knees when I least expect it. It is not controllable for me to suppress the past, but I can control the present. I can currently deny that I feel these things as I write them but if I go back to read them I can accept that they described me at some point in my life. But I will never read these words and say that I am still suffering like a bird with broken wings on a desert Island without a stream. I will believe that this strife, these failures of mine are no longer true and that I have moved on to something new. Truth is… my thoughts convince me I am greater than my previous flaws and in order to maintain that perception I find ways to build walls. Walls that span my entire consciousness and shelter my thoughts from the storms that rage inches away. My innermost convictions are held true by deluding every part of my being that I am not what I really am. Insanity keeps me balanced and pain grounds me in some distortion of reality. An equilibrium that I must maintain else I walk to far from my path. I do not wish to end up in quicksand nor do I wish to be carried away by my own derision. I would rather walk here, where the path can be written.
What are your thoughts on this poem?
I hear another poem is coming every Saturday!