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| I know that I am very small. I know that I will not break
barriers in your heart, to open you up to new or old truths. I know you
will hate me one day, if you do not already. I know that I am not quite
an exile, but not quite home. I know you won't listen, and I know I
won't say it right. I know I do not intrigue you: I know I am very,
very small.
"Where is his old self?" Everyone always asks. I didn't go anywhere. I wish I
had, but I'm still here. No misery, just white noise and fear.
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| Please don't spend your energy on me. I'm hoping to find what I believe.
I wish no chians upon you. Wild flowers in your yard. Good friends will
send you mail, that change is coming hard. I wish warm rains upon you.
And snow like playing cards. I wish no chains upon you. But saying it
isn't hard.
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| I'm surprised I've kept this going over so many years. 4.86 years to be
exact. I suppose this has been a good exercise for me. Interesting.
Today I saw three white moths. They were right outside my window in
delta gamma, and they were each circling each other, while moving
together in all directions. I could almost see the traces of their
helical motion, and of the sinusoidal beating of their perfect wings.
They almost looked like a triple star, careening through the galaxy of
the woods behind the house. Then one of them suddenly fell from the
sky, onto a rock. It was apparently hurt, or got bored of flying.
Miraculously, though having fallen 20 feet away from the others, it
almost instantaneously regained it's mid-air ballet with the others.
They were beautiful again. But once again, the moth fell from the
group. It did not hit ground; it righted itself half way down. He could
have easily once again regained his rightful position in the group, as
they were only a few feet away this time. He didn't. He flew off to a
nearby tree, while the others flew off, far out of sight.
I realize now that I am the moth in the tree. Due to boredom or mental injury (it really doesn't matter), I forsake that one thing that
I have. I was so close to the other moths. But I have chosen my own
tree, not the tree that the wind would have blown us to. The other two
kept right on dancing, but I didn't watch them as they flew away. I was
too busy with the tree. I have to go through the woods to find them
now, until I can properly regain my one thing. Until then, I feel
alone.
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| "Say it like you mean it, boy, or shut your mouth until you can."
I've been living by that for the past couple weeks.
If I were one man, I'd say I have very little right now. I'm feeling emotionally bereft, confused, angsty, fucking dumb.
If I were another, I'd say I have a lot. You and I are roman emperors.
I say I have one thing. Just one. What I can hold in my hand is not my
own. What my heart produces of itself is selfish and jealous. The one
thing I have is more than enough.
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