Faith in Winter

With the magnitude of unused power stored in your psyche…. they say you can change.

I remember as a very young child sitting outside in the backyard gazing up into the sky watching the flickering effects the sun makes between the blue and my eyes. I remember searching through the endlessness and feeling the overwhelming sorrow that is loneliness. But somehow I had the innate ability to realise this shouldn’t be so… this isn’t ‘normal’. You grow, but it’s still there, swimming in your genes, a difference you can’t exploit because the seriousness of the situation won’t be addressed for only oddity will bleed through. Nonetheless you focus and from the pits of despair you can adapt the situation and try to turn all that is bad into good,  for you can only really be yourself, can’t you… in a moment at least.

Alas, life continues and through the years it throws endless challenges your way, like a ghastly reality TV show with no prize at the end but simply a moment to not exist. The audience however gains some sense of voyeuristic pleasure until you realise in fact there is no audience. The stadium chairs roll away and you are left wondering what is the point of all these obstacles and mental barricades when in fact the only person in the crowd that matters is far away enjoying the benefits of their own game…. the game that doesn’t involve you.

Think of those 3 seconds when your past comes flying towards you and time stops as you realise everything you’ve been running from is in human form, standing a few feet away and you are given one of a few social choices to react. This is the point where you think you can choose your own adventure but in your dumbfounded stupor you simply stand and breathe in the calming moment. For you are everything you are and were, could and will be, all rolled up not in your perception of yourself, but theirs.

It was evident that after two years of hurting, writing, singing, talking, asking for advice, using in analogies and keeping in the back burner of every daily moment, pinnacle or otherwise…. something needed to be done… physically, ritualistically, with witnesses, minute takers, the whole deal. After the first, I threw his bracelet he gave me into the lake we would frequent as a pivotal moment to myself and the unlikelihood of the lake, that it’s over for good, in reality and my heart. The same henceforth, needed to be done again. I replaced the lake with a bar and the bracelet with my words. With a round of drinks and the friends most affected with the repercussions of my turmoil, I threw it all away. Not in the hopes that maybe this time I’ll win, but in the firm knowledge that I WILL!

The freedom this brings convoluted with the hindsight you’ve somehow achieved, has teared a hole in the fabric of the race and slipped you in directly at the finish line. No longer do you have to worry about the next stage of the grieving process or wonder why they’ve chosen to repeat themselves time and time again. It’s simply over and the only possible winner is really yourself for no one else, including he, is actually in the race.

This brings to mind, once the game is over, that life is yours to play out in the fashion you wish to conjure. The question bares to mind of what type of race you really should jump into next and with this new found knowledge you begin to see the hierarchy amongst racing tracks. Thus brings on the new battle. You have escaped the forest of thorns but now must make your way through the ocean of dead and soulless duplicates to find your higher ground. You don’t have to be a cultural analyst or critical theorist, but I do prefer if you have some concept of moralistic virtue before you lose all sense of intellectual facade gained from the curve of your ass.

“It’s got to happen, happen sometime.

Maybe this time…. I’ll win.”