It’s just not going to work out.
I felt a melancholic relief as I finally admitted that to myself.
As much as I don’t like it sometimes when I’m honest with myself… if it means letting go of a cherished illusion… I also don’t like lying to myself. I know when I’m lying, and I put up with it because… well, it might not be a complete lie… what if it’s not a lie at all or it’s a truth that needs me to believe in it for it to come true.
It’s complicated… the human psyche.
So many people inside who believe different things jousting for dominance over the self… who is the real you?
They all are in some way or another… but they just can’t agree on that, or anything much, and so they can’t get along, they pull, poke and prod you, unable to leave you alone… and rest in peace becomes rest in pieces.
Grab those pieces of peace, of Shangri-La, when and where you can…
“What a host of little incidents, all deep-buried in the past — problems that had once been urgent, arguments that had once been keen, anecdotes that were funny only because one remembered the fun. Did any emotion really matter when the last trace of it had vanished from human memory; and if that were so, what a crowd of emotions clung to him as to their last home before annihilation? He must be kind to them, must treasure them in his mind before their long sleep.”
― James Hilton
Most of the lies I tell myself are hope-based.
In spite of my crusty exterior of cynicism, skepticism, suspicion and battered-by-disappointmentism… I am rather optimistic in a what-if-it-doesn’t-fail kind of way.
Experience has taught me that pretty much everything I do is doomed to failure, or at least probably a mistake, however within those failures and mistakes you can find an opportunity to grow and learn, and it can be quite an adventure.
See… optimism at work!
Mostly the optimism comes from getting fed up with feeling sorry for myself, going around in circles, tying myself up in knots, and living in the mire of my own mess – make the best of the mess and then things won’t seem so bad, and, who knows, they might actually get better.
I was reading someone’s account today of how they had avoided disaster by going out of their way to do so… and the first thought which came to mind was – How do they know that they avoided disaster as they avoided it so it never happened and perhaps it never was going to happen. They never risked going down the path they thought lead to disaster, so… what they avoided was all in their mind, a prediction of a possible occurrence which would forever remain just that.
In truth I was a tad envious of their certainty that they’d avoided disaster and I admired their ability to do so… I’ve never been able to avoid it, especially when I predict it and go out of my way to find a path which won’t lead there (I always end up wondering if… if I’d just taken a more direct route to it, perhaps it… wouldn’t have been…
I knew from the get-go that the chances of this working out were slim… but a slim chance is always appealing to the mind’s eye.
There were not many voices inside talking to me on the day that my mouth spoke those words which set things in motion.
And now my nostrils are filled with the strong primal scent of things just not working out. It’s hard to keep hoping they will work out when your senses are being flooded with the pheromones of truth.
“It is a fragile thing that can only live where fragile things are loved.”
― James Hilton