The plane of truth brings me home. I push the button, walk in the door, drop everything and walk around. It is all familiar, all the same but its not even close to what I had, what I tried to build or what I gave into. I wish I had the strength to know more, to accept more, to change more, to love more, to just stop and listen. Shit, just listen and give.
"Well there are times when you know
When you should stay, when you should go
But you don't
Rehearse the lines in your head
You know what needs to be said
But it all comes out bad
And if it's space that you need
If time is falling at your feet
Walking away empty
Love is a crazy dream"
I walk over and stare at them. A small bunch of flowers, their job was to bring color to white wash. Left alone far too long, they tried to reach out and grab the last glimmer of light and drink slowly. The water is all but gone now, leaving a stale off color crust lining the glass vase and a pedal drops, right in front me, right at that moment. Such irony. I stare at them one by one, wondering when the next one falls where will it land and can I do anything to help. I can actually watch the pedals loose their grip from the stem that gave life and lifted them up and I continue to stare, time moves painfully. A small pile of faded color sits on the table top, curling up on its ends, crawls to the edge ready to disappear as I finally move away.
"Is it what you want
Is it what you need
We go back and forth
Making war out of peace
And you won't let go
And I won't give up
We go round and round
But is it ever enough
Is it ever enough"
A man learns much about himself when forced to confront his fear and self loathing, I am that man. Add the occasional and often self prescribed accelerant to this lethal mix and my loathing increases at a rate directly proportional to the lack of clarity in the quest for a soul, my soul. While sitting on that plane, which once was a flight filled with anxious hope and desires to simply get back home, I look out the cold hard window and see my free fall from 32,000 feet with every bump, every mile closer to the heat. The clouds float by and distract my thoughts but I know, I soon will make the walk, into the dark and stark reality of the emptiness that awaits for me.
"Lately I'm falling away
Growing more quiet by the day
Not really sure
Why I feel this way
I guess I got a little scared
Someone could actually care
This time, just might be something there
And if it's change that you need
A little more mystery
Some kind of deeper meaning
Love is a crazy dream"
Giving into yourself and giving up often get confused and the lines cross. The end is horrible, but seems all too unavoidable far too many times. Getting in your own way is one thing, power down the highway with no helmet, seat belt flapping in the wind is all good and fine when your walls are firm, but many times I have hitched up to a long haired beauty and an ill willed fait was thrust upon her, just like I do.
"I'm sure I'll mess it all up"
So I pour another shot. A dangerous step to drive distraction that leaves me more hollow from first sip to last splash and I can see the crash but in slow motion I watch and wait. In this fall, I tether myself to a simple chime of connection which I hold in my hand, looking for it to save me, a simple text message. I don't know which is more sad. My loathing, my disgusting desperation to feel a connection, the new shot in my hand waiting to burst or that I just don't get it. If I were different, could be different, I feel it would be alright, but not this time, not in time.
"I'm sure I'll try to convince myself
That I just need to be
But what I want to be is
Something else, someone else"
Words are powerful, written or spoken, they convey the hope, love, desire, anger, confusion, sadness and stress that makes up the life we lead, he life we live. Why push to know, to understand? Usually you get what you never wanted, never wanted to hear, what you fear. I think sometimes it's better to exist in the haze and confusion so I don't have to come to know the truth. The truth will set you free and let you down. But, I know the truth, it didn't do anything I didn't do to myself.
"So why did we cross the line
Mess it all up with the time
And in the end just assume it'll be alright"
Today is a new day, another day, and another day will come.
"Is it what you want
Is it what you need
We go back and forth
Making war out of peace
And you won't let go
And I won't give up
No I won't give up
No I won't give up"
Tristan Prettyman was the inspiration above - she is simply amazing.