Banished.
Banished from the lands. I almost said unfortunately. Fortune has little to do with what a person decides to do with their present. Fortune has everything to do with what and who you are up until "now", but maybe fifty percent to do with after. Fortune has fifty percent or less to do with what happens to you after you realize what the system is and what you're in for and who you are and where you've been with an open eye. Of course, you've still got to get "lucky" in part for good things to happen to you, but you also have to be prepared to act.
Banished and returned out of sympathy for their survival, them having flailed in the vacuum of space and been over matched by the very things they spat in my face they could handle on their own so often and myself being fed incomplete information (what I call lies and they call "telling the full truth when they're ready"). So now we are trapped into providing shelter for the wayward addict and trying to lay down ground rules in their defiance and abuse of kindness. Few things feel more alone than living with someone who is not prepared or capable yet of living outside of their own interests, whatever those interests may be.
If you're still in the mindset of "I am a fuck up, I can't do this" and won't even honest to yourself try, you're going to miss it. Four months long attempts at trying to wake them up to that simplicity. Trying to be the best person I could be toward the person I loved. Maximum effort. Whether I wanted to or not, whether I was upset or not, whether it would cost me or not. We had a conversation the other evening about what love is. Is it an emotion? A feeling? A pile of chemicals? An exchange of ideas, ideals, memories, and hopes? Is it that metaphorical eternal flame of the soul and yadda yadda that keeps everything and everyone connected and relationships blossom where the connections happen to be stronger instead of weaker? She sort of fumbled around for some time, at points fading into and out of the "a person can fall into and out of love conundrum so it can only be, but so much of this or that and" basically a word salad of chopped up experiences, tossed with a little salt and vinegarette and served halting.
Love at its core is sacrifice. Love is willfully putting yourself second for the betterment of someone else. Love is not whispering "I would die for you" while your heads lay on the same pillow and your faces are six inches away from each other. Every time someone tells me they would die for me I tell them to live for me.
I'm not looking for apologies anymore. Whatever form they come in, apologies, an acknowledgement that you did something that did not account for that action's, that decision's, that event's happening's impact on my life, or you did and chose to disregard it, or you did and it did not weigh out to enough to sway you, but you cared enough to inform me and help me better understand where I fall in your calculus and explore the otherverses of paths so that we can figure out whether we should or should not cross paths in the future, if it can be avoided.
I am looking for changes in behavior. Whatever forms the apologies take, if you find yourself offering apologies and sacrifices to the same You, it is vainity at its root. Isn't it? As long as you can forgive you, everything should be good with the person you are bowing your head for the knife for. As long as you're in the loop, you are your own executioner. And yes, you will die in dramatic fashion. The applause will rain. Everyone will believe something was accomplished in the display. The executioner will go to their home, once the crowd applause fade, and there's some sort of proclamation about sins and wrongs and the pigeons and crows will come to peck up the bits of food the audience left in the courtyard. The morticians will get to work and the janitors too. The executioner's phone will buzz a "hey, are you up? Let's hang out" the following night. You'll do your make up, cross legged on the floor, and say to yourself you must go meet so-and-so because...
Apologies and "sorry" are not worthless. They carry some merit on their own, though tacit.
You'll befriend fall guys and walking excuses and you'll apologize later. Beheading yourself used to mean something. It used to be painful. Cognitive dissonance is something for therapy couches, though. Why respect the opinions of people that have spent their lives studying people, just like you. With enough repetitions, a person can become anything they want to be.
///Fatboy Slim - "The State We're In" ~
Banished from the lands. I almost said unfortunately. Fortune has little to do with what a person decides to do with their present. Fortune has everything to do with what and who you are up until "now", but maybe fifty percent to do with after. Fortune has fifty percent or less to do with what happens to you after you realize what the system is and what you're in for and who you are and where you've been with an open eye. Of course, you've still got to get "lucky" in part for good things to happen to you, but you also have to be prepared to act.
Banished and returned out of sympathy for their survival, them having flailed in the vacuum of space and been over matched by the very things they spat in my face they could handle on their own so often and myself being fed incomplete information (what I call lies and they call "telling the full truth when they're ready"). So now we are trapped into providing shelter for the wayward addict and trying to lay down ground rules in their defiance and abuse of kindness. Few things feel more alone than living with someone who is not prepared or capable yet of living outside of their own interests, whatever those interests may be.
If you're still in the mindset of "I am a fuck up, I can't do this" and won't even honest to yourself try, you're going to miss it. Four months long attempts at trying to wake them up to that simplicity. Trying to be the best person I could be toward the person I loved. Maximum effort. Whether I wanted to or not, whether I was upset or not, whether it would cost me or not. We had a conversation the other evening about what love is. Is it an emotion? A feeling? A pile of chemicals? An exchange of ideas, ideals, memories, and hopes? Is it that metaphorical eternal flame of the soul and yadda yadda that keeps everything and everyone connected and relationships blossom where the connections happen to be stronger instead of weaker? She sort of fumbled around for some time, at points fading into and out of the "a person can fall into and out of love conundrum so it can only be, but so much of this or that and" basically a word salad of chopped up experiences, tossed with a little salt and vinegarette and served halting.
Love at its core is sacrifice. Love is willfully putting yourself second for the betterment of someone else. Love is not whispering "I would die for you" while your heads lay on the same pillow and your faces are six inches away from each other. Every time someone tells me they would die for me I tell them to live for me.
I'm not looking for apologies anymore. Whatever form they come in, apologies, an acknowledgement that you did something that did not account for that action's, that decision's, that event's happening's impact on my life, or you did and chose to disregard it, or you did and it did not weigh out to enough to sway you, but you cared enough to inform me and help me better understand where I fall in your calculus and explore the otherverses of paths so that we can figure out whether we should or should not cross paths in the future, if it can be avoided.
I am looking for changes in behavior. Whatever forms the apologies take, if you find yourself offering apologies and sacrifices to the same You, it is vainity at its root. Isn't it? As long as you can forgive you, everything should be good with the person you are bowing your head for the knife for. As long as you're in the loop, you are your own executioner. And yes, you will die in dramatic fashion. The applause will rain. Everyone will believe something was accomplished in the display. The executioner will go to their home, once the crowd applause fade, and there's some sort of proclamation about sins and wrongs and the pigeons and crows will come to peck up the bits of food the audience left in the courtyard. The morticians will get to work and the janitors too. The executioner's phone will buzz a "hey, are you up? Let's hang out" the following night. You'll do your make up, cross legged on the floor, and say to yourself you must go meet so-and-so because...
Apologies and "sorry" are not worthless. They carry some merit on their own, though tacit.
You'll befriend fall guys and walking excuses and you'll apologize later. Beheading yourself used to mean something. It used to be painful. Cognitive dissonance is something for therapy couches, though. Why respect the opinions of people that have spent their lives studying people, just like you. With enough repetitions, a person can become anything they want to be.
///Fatboy Slim - "The State We're In" ~
