“Where do I go from here?” I sat pondering this query at the calloused edge of the jetty peering out over the rugby scrum of waves. Finger taps of rain pellets running into me like a herd of spooked deer careening across a field. Wind whipping with a slight crack like the circus cowboy putting out a candle. A voice so faint poured into my ear like Guinness over a spoon to reduce the head saying “Wherever you heart desires little one.”
Startled as if the the pistol shot just sounded from a 100m dash, I jettisoned myself back from the calloused edge. Head and body spinning back and forth like a top in search of the source. No author could be perceived.
During times like these I often get caught like a moth to a flame. DON’T FLY TO HIGH ICARUS! Reflections of the past like so many distorted images in the funhouse mirror room. Where did I go wrong? What could I have done better? What did I do to cause this to happen? Every self-deprecating conundrum rending me like a freshly pulled pork roast.
I am deserving of more than this garbage fire of self-loathing. The reporters of my internal dialogue, if they wanted a real scoop for the morning paper, would cast their questions like a net into the sea of those that were charged with my care as a child, my peers growing up and every teacher that said “you have more potential than this.”
“Where do I go from here?” Pondering yet again the question careens across my skull like a racquetball. Wherever this shoestring path goes, it will be alone for awhile I think. Removing the knife from my heart and sewing up the latest wound, I place it back in its cage, lock the door and toss the key over the calloused edge to be washed out to sea in the rugby scrum of waves.
There comes a point in time, for certain situations in life, when even the empath has had enough……
I deserve better from myself. I’m angry. I’m confused. It’s late and the blood from my heart is the ink lining this page. I must find my way off this cross. It is not mine to bare. This writing will help. It always does. The exorcism of emotions through the type-written word. No “Christ” compelling me but, my own will alone. I will persist. “Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.” ~ Calvin Coolidge
(Authors Note: We will be returning to our regularly expected writing this weekend. I have a few pieces cooking in my grey matter and I will be continuing my deeper exploration of Bushido and The 7 Tenets.)
Writing to check in with yourself is always good. You are deserving.
Ive been feeling this too.