I’ve been wracking my brain for a while, trying to think of the right way to say this. I don’t want to sound like a world-class dick, but I also don’t want to tip my hand and reveal the fact that I’m a whiny little bitch either. So, in the end, I guess I’ll just do both and see what happens.
I’m angry. At you, at the situation, at myself…I mean, how on earth do I keep winding up in these ridiculous little games? I feel like a mouse that lives in a house full of cats; I get away from one, just to get caught in a corner by another.
You’re not really here; in fact, you never really will be. That’s the suckiest of sucky things, too; catharsis isn’t real. There is so much I want to say. I want to yell at you, I want to ask you a million different questions that probably all have the same answer, and I want to just…try to reconcile it all in my mind while you sit here quietly.
Instead, I sit on this park bench and watch as the kids across the lawn feed the birds, and the joggers pass me, oblivious to the stupid weight on my stupid mind, on my stupid day off, no less. What the hell.
I mean, I know things don’t play out in real life like they do in the movies. I know that there is rarely, if ever, a moment where everything is put out in the open, and everything is made better. Wounds don’t heal that fast. There are never those iconic moments in the real world; there is never the “I love you” from the balcony, or the “goodbye, old friend,” from the death bed. No, those things are left unsaid, unheard, or worse, both. Neither party benefits from the openness of simply saying those short phrases.
Instead, we lock ourselves away in our own minds, and sweat over a boiling pot of our tense thoughts. Mmmm, what a lovely stew it is; nothing gets the blood pumping like a full bowl of regret in the morning. God, what a joke this all is.
I suppose since the world doesn’t solve its problems in two hours like Hollywood does (let’s be honest, it hardly ever solves anything), there must be some other solution. I guess it’s kind of obvious when you look at life from a less angsty perspective. Simply…move the hell forward.
It’s going to be a struggle. The things I have to say aren’t going away. They may hide for a while, but they always resurface. It’s going to be a daily process; I have to drop your weight from my shoulders before my feet even touch the floor in the morning. Sometimes, I have to do that two or three times before I even get out of the house.
I know I’m never going to have any peace any other way, though. I’m never going to be handed a cathartic moment; I have to manufacture my own catharsis, I have to create my own peace. I must force the storms raging inside of me to be calm simply because I want them to be.
I know I have to start soon. As I get older, time seems to be speeding up; soon enough, I’ll be that bitter old man who feeds the pigeons and growls at children in the park. Hell, I’m halfway there already; I’m already in the park. I can’t be that, though. I have to be better. I can’t let this rob me of who I am. I can’t let this consume me, or all the stuff I went through before will have been pointless. If nothing else, I refuse to die without a purpose. I refuse to go out as a quitter. A failure? Maybe, but not a quitter.
So consider this the goodbye I never got the chance to have before. Consider this my new beginning, my return to normalcy. I’m going to have my rough days; I’m going to wind up back here more than once. I’m stronger now, though; I’m at least strong enough not to stay where I am. I’m done being tossed around and shaken like a dog’s chew toy. It’s time I evolved a little bit. Maybe grow some legs and get out of this stagnant little pond. There’s a whole world out there; a world full of disappointments I haven’t experienced yet, and hurdles I have yet to jump. I may not win, but I’m ready for that fight now. I’m ready to Rocky the shit out of this; I’m going the distance. there ain’t gonna be no rematch.