Friday, February 18, 2011
It was a flash of how much I was missing out on in life. I met you and you talked about the military, about your training, though you never went on to serve, and I realised that there was so much out there; things I was not experiencing because I was cloistered among the same four walls I had stared at since childhood. I wonder if I am whiling my life away in a useless stupor because I never do what I want to do. You've skydived, you've moved your life to another country and you work for charity; I don't have a thing to compare against that, nothing at all.
Then there was the film. Sometimes a story is just a story, but sometimes, in fact, more often than not, a story is a message. This one said, 'you cannot achieve perfection by repressing parts of yourself, but by embracing all aspects of your personality.' Is that what this is? Am I repressing some part of myself because I'm afraid of embracing it? The truth: yes, I think so.
It's strange how events, people, films, artworks, can all leave a deep, and different impact on you, all on the same day. It's as though all the threads of your life are revealing themselves to you through these things, showing you the things that are wrong, and those that are right within your life. You know it's a sign when you stare at the theatre screen, scared to watch, but helpless to tear your eyes away, because what you see is a reflection of yourself, filmed and projected onto a screen for people to see. The situations are different, the extremity of the case also differs, but you recognise that person all the same; you recognise the patterns, the hate, the obsequious attitude, the anger - the need to be more than what you are.
Then, somewhere along the way, you realise how alone you are. Those you thought would be there for you, aren't as close as you hoped. In fact you were closer with him, with a stranger for a few moments than you were with them, even after a few hours. You grow sullen, though they don't notice, passing it off as another of your moods, but in truth, you were happy before they made you realise that they wouldn't be there for you the way you hoped they would be. You shrug it off, what else can you do, and keep going forward with your life, but staying stationary all the same.
But I keep thinking that I'd like to see you again. You were nice, you were amusing, handsome, obviously charitable, and you made me feel, for the second time in my life, as though I wasn't being overlooked. But I lied to you. I'm sorry, I regret it, but it was the nicest way I could think of saying goodbye and not being forced into something I don't want to do. My way is not to help people financially, but in person, by labour, by support. Forgive me that my way is not your way. So I lied to not have to do things your way. But you were still gracious, and polite, after all, we'd had a conversation about something completely different most of the time. And you remembered my name. That counts for everything. I do have to thank you, because though you made a small impact on me in a day of impacts both large and small, it will be a lasting one, nevertheless.
So yes, I'd like a white knight to show me the way I'm supposed to be going. Or rather, I know the way, I just need help starting down that path. Encouragement, support and help would all be a gift. Inspiration was today's gift.