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I have done a lot of thinking and writing late at night. Might be due to the fact that I’m constantly watching the new puppy Lucy. Or maybe it’s just me and my sleeping disorder. I am not quite sure but I think it’s a good thing. the best thoughts are coming out late at night when the world is fast asleep…
I am remembering who I am. i lost it for a while last year or so, got lost in all the pain and change and stress. Got lost in all the losing. But i am finding my way back, and I’m believing better things. I have found out that there is a place between holding on and letting go, a place where fight songs beg for love songs. Life is hard for most people most of the time. And that I know some people live with so much pain that it’s hard to get out of bed, hard to eat, hard to smile. I believed life is worth living, that storms can pass, and that we have to keep fighting. It’s those hard times that you seem to forget that things are worth fighting for.
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I have been thinking a lot about past friendships that have failed. I don’t know why or how but I always have wondered. I’m one to think it was all my fault but in reality it isn’t. It might be something that they are dealing with at the time. I miss a lot of the things from those relationships I’ve had. I miss the top of the world trips, just to look at the stars and talking. I miss going to dollar movie nights on Tuesdays. I miss the connection we had, no matter what I knew you would be there. I miss the nights that turned into mornings goofing around. I miss the hugs and kisses goodnight. I miss seeing you every night. I miss having someone who would remind me exactly where I stand. I miss the guy advice I would get. I miss the crazy nights with SATC. I miss the common bond we had over things, like scary nuns and winning a stupid shirt. I miss singing at the top of our lungs to songs on the radio. I miss our dinner chats and free food that you weren’t suppose to give us. I miss roller blading trips. I miss wandering into your room late at night (knowing you’d be up, you always were) just to talk about my life.I miss our lists of why the day was awesome. I miss the crazy thoughts like why being a yellow pen must suck. i miss the part of you being my family, actual family, but you’re gone now. I might have screwed up in a lot of ways but others have too. Some are reasons I can’t even remember why we lost touch, some I remember like yesterday. But rebuilding the bridge is hard to do.
"A stranger with your door key explaining that I am just visiting
And I am finally seeing..."
The building has always come easy - the creative, the words on napkins, the wild open doors. It’s easy to always look ahead, to equate success with getting the hell away from where you started. If you’re faster than whatever’s chasing you, then you never have to pay attention to it. You tell yourself it’s okay that the bridges burned - you didn’t mean for it to happen, but maybe it’s better, I mean, you’re not going back, they can’t go where you’re going.
Or maybe those are lies. Maybe the constant motion is simply a man on the run, a man scared to death of standing still, a man scared to death of what he might find, or what might find him. And maybe the hero’s dance is not the run across the burning bridge. Maybe the hero’s dance is the pause and the turning to say “This wasn’t meant to burn.” Maybe the leader is the one who looks back and sees something worth fighting for.
So it’s an interesting moment. The big doors are there, and that will be my life. But that is the privileged part, the easy part. That is the building. But what has my attention in these new nights at home is the rebuilding. Remembering some things that began, some things that I believed in, some things that became too hard and I just kept running. What would it look like to stop and just be small, to apologize, to listen? It is easy to make a new friend but perhaps the great miracle is to remember an old friend, to find them again, even in the wreckage. You start off running together, believing all the beautiful things, crossing all the awful waters, and then suddenly you find yourself out front, running from the fires you started, running from the distance you created. maybe also because true love requires risk. requires chance. we give our hearts away… we talk about forever. we believe. but many things end this side of heaven. we are fragile. our hearts break. we don’t know how to stop something that we said would last forever…
You have to make room in your heart and in your life for the things that matter. It is not enough to dream. The dreaming comes easy. You have to do things. You have to make choices.
Life is about choices.
We become our choices.
It is possible to change.
I am remembering who I am. i lost it for a while last year or so, got lost in all the pain and change and stress. Got lost in all the losing. But i am finding my way back, and I’m believing better things. I have found out that there is a place between holding on and letting go, a place where fight songs beg for love songs. Life is hard for most people most of the time. And that I know some people live with so much pain that it’s hard to get out of bed, hard to eat, hard to smile. I believed life is worth living, that storms can pass, and that we have to keep fighting. It’s those hard times that you seem to forget that things are worth fighting for.
--------------------------
I have been thinking a lot about past friendships that have failed. I don’t know why or how but I always have wondered. I’m one to think it was all my fault but in reality it isn’t. It might be something that they are dealing with at the time. I miss a lot of the things from those relationships I’ve had. I miss the top of the world trips, just to look at the stars and talking. I miss going to dollar movie nights on Tuesdays. I miss the connection we had, no matter what I knew you would be there. I miss the nights that turned into mornings goofing around. I miss the hugs and kisses goodnight. I miss seeing you every night. I miss having someone who would remind me exactly where I stand. I miss the guy advice I would get. I miss the crazy nights with SATC. I miss the common bond we had over things, like scary nuns and winning a stupid shirt. I miss singing at the top of our lungs to songs on the radio. I miss our dinner chats and free food that you weren’t suppose to give us. I miss roller blading trips. I miss wandering into your room late at night (knowing you’d be up, you always were) just to talk about my life.I miss our lists of why the day was awesome. I miss the crazy thoughts like why being a yellow pen must suck. i miss the part of you being my family, actual family, but you’re gone now. I might have screwed up in a lot of ways but others have too. Some are reasons I can’t even remember why we lost touch, some I remember like yesterday. But rebuilding the bridge is hard to do.
"A stranger with your door key explaining that I am just visiting
And I am finally seeing..."
The building has always come easy - the creative, the words on napkins, the wild open doors. It’s easy to always look ahead, to equate success with getting the hell away from where you started. If you’re faster than whatever’s chasing you, then you never have to pay attention to it. You tell yourself it’s okay that the bridges burned - you didn’t mean for it to happen, but maybe it’s better, I mean, you’re not going back, they can’t go where you’re going.
Or maybe those are lies. Maybe the constant motion is simply a man on the run, a man scared to death of standing still, a man scared to death of what he might find, or what might find him. And maybe the hero’s dance is not the run across the burning bridge. Maybe the hero’s dance is the pause and the turning to say “This wasn’t meant to burn.” Maybe the leader is the one who looks back and sees something worth fighting for.
So it’s an interesting moment. The big doors are there, and that will be my life. But that is the privileged part, the easy part. That is the building. But what has my attention in these new nights at home is the rebuilding. Remembering some things that began, some things that I believed in, some things that became too hard and I just kept running. What would it look like to stop and just be small, to apologize, to listen? It is easy to make a new friend but perhaps the great miracle is to remember an old friend, to find them again, even in the wreckage. You start off running together, believing all the beautiful things, crossing all the awful waters, and then suddenly you find yourself out front, running from the fires you started, running from the distance you created. maybe also because true love requires risk. requires chance. we give our hearts away… we talk about forever. we believe. but many things end this side of heaven. we are fragile. our hearts break. we don’t know how to stop something that we said would last forever…
You have to make room in your heart and in your life for the things that matter. It is not enough to dream. The dreaming comes easy. You have to do things. You have to make choices.
Life is about choices.
We become our choices.
It is possible to change.
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