Never Afraid of the Dark

Everybody has at least one talent. Or so the story goes. It may not be what you think, it may not be what you want, but I daresay you've got one. If you're lucky, your talent is a little better than most, if you're unlucky your very best day doesn't match the common denominator on it's worst.

I always wanted to be a strategist. Not very good at it. With practice I became so-so. I wanted to be a dancer. Fairly okay at it. With practice, I became somewhat entertaining. I always wanted to be that guy, who always knew just what to say, who shone with confidence in any group, and with practice, I became something less than mute.

But what I have always been good at, is walking through the shadows of someone else's soul, and letting them know that it's alright to be that way. Not to be confused with acceptance; we think, we do, we act, and we are accountable to those actions. But non-judgement in being who you are, and whatever that happens to be, well, it's always been a specialty.

It's amazing how fear works its way into to almost everything. We are afraid of looking dumb, so we agree with things we don't know anything about. We are afraid of looking weak, so we present strong, afraid of looking vulnerable so we armor up.

Put a person under enough stress, and they are the polar opposite of who they really are. That guy sweating bullets tries to stand tall, that girl who's just been hurt looks at you with steel in her eyes. We say all kinds of things to cover the gaps, ensuring friendships when we want to pull away, saying sorry when we absolutely are not, being polite to the animals that cross our way. Lies within truths within more lies.

It's a natural process. We want to feel safe. We want to believe that the hard part is over, that the pain will end, that the bad things will fade, that the holes will be filled, that time will heal all wounds. We want to believe it so bad it's what we tell ourselves over and over again even when it isn't true.

If at any point someone is trying to tell you that everything is going to be okay, the only thing you can really be sure of is that it isn't.

I'm pretty sure people just say that to let you know that eventually, you'll have to buck up and pretend it is, just like everybody else.

I like people who know that in actual fact, very few things are okay, and really it's all kind of fucked up. Extra points for people who know that being fucked up doesn't actually matter, because everybody is, and always has been and still the world keeps on ticking.

Your mom dies, the world keeps going. Your wife is pregnant, the world keeps going. A bullet to your head, and the world will still keep going. The cast changes, the show remains the same.

In the face of all those things, we still we give so much power to fear. As if the world will stop because we tripped, or said the wrong thing, or tore our pants, or got turned down or looked foolish. But it won't. Our world is as indifferent to our trivialities as it is to our monuments.

In the face of everything, nothing matters. All stories exist, all thoughts, all values. Good and bad, positive and negative. Every range of possible human behavior and emotion has some precedent set a thousand times before. That is the way the world is. And I'm good with that.

And so it doesn't matter to me what darkness lurks in the corner of your soul, what things haunt you, which particular stories you happen to hold. It hasn't changed the world. It is as it was going to be. At best it may change me. I would love if this talent brought out tales of heroic daring-do, but you will find that the world has been cast with considerably more villains.

Everybody has the story they never tell, the one they are afraid of. Of what will happen if people know, of how their lives may change. Most people want to tell it. They need to- its the only part of them nobody understands, and nobody can unless those little bits are known.

And that's my talent. Walking in the deep dark without a care in the world. Putting myself on hold and listening. For whatever reason, creating a safe place brings out the things we are all afraid of. Turning them over in the light, getting a grip, learning how to deal. It's never as bad as you think, and I'm never afraid of what's down there. Maybe one day someone will say the same to me.

What an interesting place to walk while hand-in-hand.

Disappointment.

Have you ever had an idea of how things were going to be? Something so tangible and strong that you could feel it, that you could build on it, that you could work towards it and feel it taking shape?

Have you ever had that idea completely shattered in one hard shock?

The world changes, spins, redirects and what do you do? It was only an idea. Something that never was. A story within a story, a dream that will never be. What do you do when you thought knew how the world was, and then it turned out to be completely different.

Thwarted. Prevented. Incorrect.

Part of me howls in rage, part of me just wants to crawl into bed and sleep forever. Part of me wants to run run run until my lungs explode and every step pushes messy wet stumps of pain further and further until I hit oblivion.

I feel certain about so few things, that when I am and it turns out wrong it's a hard blow. And to do what?

Time is a fire that consumes everything, leaving only ash behind. There is nothing to return to, nothing to question, nothing to restore. There is no back, you can never return. Once changed, it remains so forever. I know this. I live this. And yet...

It Is Snowing and There is Cognac

There is nothing so quiet as streets covered with thick, damp snow. Everything is muffled, traffic sounds, voices in the streets, ambulance sirens, everything. If driving you can hear the air conditioner underneath the radio, the occasional windshield wipe, the sticky wet of intersections. The cold white mute button of the world.

When I was younger, I would jump into the swimming pool, and sink straight to the bottom. Shutting out the sounds around me, being gently rocked back and forth by the motion of the water. Peaceful. Serene. Quite unlike the sharp snaps and far off honks and raised voices on the surface. Spend enough time in the water, and the air feels different; harsher, more vibrant, empty.

I wonder what it means, that I am quite skilled in shutting out the world. To not only have a list of methods, but preferences among them. Working my way through a crowd for example, is an excellent way to be alone. And when alone, talking to people I'm not with as though I had company. No matter where I am, I always have a handy solution for being somewhere else.

Very few exceptions I suppose, and even then, just twists on the same old theme. When I'm dancing, I'm inside the music, when love making I'm intertwined with someone else. But very rarely am I just me. Perhaps when I'm sleeping. We are what we dream, after all.

So quiet right now. The world holding its breath, waiting til it has to rise. Never takes as long as I wish it would.

And So It Was

It's interesting, being able to look back at past pages. To see in through a temporal window, and be able to gauge what has gone on.

And so it was that I awoke, having been lulled to sleep by stagnant decay. Nothing had really changed between the Muse and I, she was as incapable of stepping forward as I was of staying back.

It was a rough way to end such a beautiful thing. A few days of of tense words, and she was gone gone gone, the vacuum of her presence still just as real as her being. Off to rewrite history, create a villian, make a martyr. As oblivious to her faults as she is to her true strengths. One-sided well wishes I think, from me to her, but that is the way it is with her. No middle ground, no grey; you are everything or nothing. It drove me mad, and still I will miss it so.

There are many things I won't miss, but I will tuck those away. She was who she was, and although I always hoped for more, I can't really fault her for staying that way. I thought I saw something I didn't. I thought in a different situation she would unfold, god, such potential. A stunning creature capable of great things. And maybe still she'll achieve them. But not with me.

But all of that was some time ago. Two months I think. Forever in my world. Gone is gone. I would love to relay some tale about picking up the shattered pieces of my life, but it didn't happen. My life grew stronger almost instantly. More drive, more focus. Clear goals, targets, organization, physical improvement. Bad habits put away, new ones forged in sweat and time.

There is no possible way to have accomplished these things with her here, and that is I suppose why she had to go. There is little use for inspiration without real accomplishment. Without progress, adaptation, and the ability to self-assess, the world changes while one falls further and further behind.

Being told what to do is of no real significance, knowing what you should do is. And above all things, being able to do it. Even people who only follow instructions get a gold star if they do it well. Inspiration with zero execution is only a daydream, and so its only a matter of time before it ends.

And so it was that I awoke. And reality is just a bit more grim than I remember. I'm older now. Less options. More injuries. Battle worn. Wary as hell. It'd be nice to rest my head for a while, but I have to keep going. Wherever she is, she needs me. Hope to hell I find her soon.