You scrape the veneer ever so slightly and then you find the truth. You were the weak vessel! There was never anyone to come back to. There was never anyone to begin with. It was all pure illusion. A manifestation of creation by a team of artful others. Those experienced in telling beautiful sweet lies for the sake of those who cannot live without them. Coming back to what? What exactly? Someone who depends on you when you are undependable? Someone who takes care of you when you need to be taken care of? Someone that would rather be happy for an instant or two rather than continue being sad. A person that doesn’t really need you but has nowhere else to go. That’s sad! That’s very sad.
Yeah, I’m angry! I’m damn angry. I’m always angry. Just scratch the surface and find that anger. Everyone does, therefore I’m a pariah. Trouble! Someone that no one wants to encounter. One to stay far far from. A conspicuous wart on a face. I carry it in my being. It’s plain to see. I am that thing that they all hate. The outsider. That nagging suspicion. That perilous voice that will not stop its harangue. That will not give anyone a moment’s peace. An alarm bell ringing ceaselessly warning everyone of their better self by showing them their worse incarnation.
“Oh woe is thee!“, petty human. Who gave thee that right? For I am on the scene and will not be assuaged. Will not be parlayed or bargained with. For I cannot tell the truth without recalling the lie that is fundamental to that fantasy that we all live within and too often embody. Therefore thou, I have become a mealy prophet, a pretender. Someone who needed to excel to soar but that has landed soundly upon hard ground. As close to the Sun as he dared get but didn’t. Just had to fall all the more distance back. How sad and magnificent these ramblings of those who would be to another trumped. But this can no longer be. How distant and out of touch one can be with the obviousness of their own simple truth. I have lost and will not gain it back for a long, long time. Perhaps maybe never. I have lost and that is my price and my penalty for being alive.
Why? The problem seems to be that I expected so much more of life. A Hollywood dream of adventure, romance and happy endings all come to pass by the end of the film’s final reel. How foolish those to make such things and then only to disappoint their audience? To have to see the light of day have to judge that time is short and have to see to it that those who do not abide the simple rules of human existence must bide the the time in suffering. This suffering is a silent cause. Something that only a few are fool enough to properly indulge in. People have learned to stay quiet and appear to be noble in defense of protecting their own self-duplicitous cause of virtue signaling their never surrendering. And not wanting to know that which they really have so in-graciously surrendered. That is humility! That is the acceptance of one’s fate of being mortally alive and vulnerable to those ceaseless winds of chaos. To make that decision to come back to stay when one believes that something good could happen. But knows that it’s impossible to believe otherwise because it won’t. The dragon-like continence that will confound every attempt to find a sort of happiness that will last as longer than a single instant.
How sad! And how magnificent that we are told that is the hero’s cause. Or so we are told. That is what we all must live with for there is no ending. No anything. Nothing! Naught but the sound of those words alone. And we must make the best of it. And keep our lives in check and in good order. For this is how we exist with chaos. To remain in good order, ever ready and ever-present against the possibilities of one day accidentally fulfilling our dreams.