i like writing because what's written can always be edited. as long as i put something on the page, it can be fixed. words may not ever be able to truly convey everything i feel but the words on the page can at least be arranged and tempered and molded into something close enough to what i want to share. it's possible to heard and felt and honest. it's nice to be in control and able to delete and undo and paste and rewrite. being able to manipulate what i start with into what i want it to be is satisfying. and it works. and i like that.
life is not like writing.
lately, i've just wanted to burn my life to the ground. to take everything i've worked on and failed at and neglected and ruined up to this point and start over. i wish i had an eraser big enough, whiteout strong enough, a canvas large enough a backspace button encompassing enough a wish real enough to take this last year and everything i've let slip and erase it from the page. i want to blot it out and start the year again fresh. and if i can't do that, i want to burn the thing in its entirety. i've been begging the universe to give me a second chance and i don't think it's listening but that doesn't make me any less hopeful that in some year, in some dimension, in some way i will finally find a way to move on from the mess i've made with grace and hope and and confidence and goodness and love. right now that means burning it to the ground. (i have a secret hope, though, that maybe it won't always.)
i guess my problem is this: i always assumed i would be great. i was a good kid, i was a bright kid, i was a hard-working kid, i was a happy kid, i was a talented kid and i really just thought greatness was my destiny. and who knows, maybe it was. maybe it still could be. but the fact was that if i really was ever going to be great--if that was EVER even briefly a part of the plan for my life--it was because i was good. i've been blessed a lot and i still think there's a lot in place for me to be a successful human if i ever get it together. but none of that matters because greatness is not merely dependent on what we can do and what we can offer. it all starts with who we are. and i forgot about that. i was so sure i would be great, so sure my destiny was already locked down that i forgot to be good. i stopped doing the things that would ever even have maybe lead me to greatness. and those little things that were so easy to write off in the name of the "greatness" i was pursuing made all the difference.
so here we are. a year later, i don't know what i'm doing. i'm still trying to figure out who i am. and i feel like i've fallen so far and made so many mistakes that there's no way for me to live the life i hoped to live anymore. on a good day, i feel like a sub-par human being and it makes me so sad and embarrassed and ashamed and guilty and afraid that i just want to burn it down. i want to run away and not have to come to terms with the mess that i've created. it's easy. looking at it and trying to figure out how to make it work and how to fix this is hard and i have never wanted to give up and be a quitter more in my life.
but. i am going to try.
and i guess that's what this is for. new beginnings. i'm trying to forgive myself. trying to get back to where i started. trying to relearn all these things and hopefully pick up a few new things along the way. trying again to become a person that lives and loves and does and is. trying again to focus on just being a good person and letting the world decide whether i'm "great" or not. and it's hard and humbling and most days i just want to fight it and act like i don't care and just keep living the way i have been. but it's me. this actually is my story. and flawless and pure and perfect or not (hint: it's the latter), it's mine. it's me. it's the journey. and it's beautiful.
grateful. love and gentleness and peace and honesty and forgiveness and healing are much more powerful than i ever gave them credit for and life is beautiful even when it's not.
the end.
No comments:
Post a Comment