Sometimes you have to cry.
Sometimes you cannot stop said crying. Sometimes you get in your car for the sole purpose of driving and crying, while listening to the same sad song over and over. Sometimes, while that sad song is playing, you snot all over yourself and in the midst of your breakdown, you drop your cigarette on the floor of your car while cursing and trying to wipe your nose. Take aforementioned nose-wiping incident, the fact that people keep looking at you weird (they’re all judging you) and add in the extreme emotional rollercoaster you are currently on. Swerve slightly to the left and realize without a doubt that you are now at the peak of being completely and totally irrational. At this point, sometimes you pull over and scream. Sometimes people slow down to watch your personal circus. And you scream more.
Sometimes, you just have to cry.
I am the keeper of secrets for most people I know, and I guard the hearts of those I adore like a lock box with a lost key. I am entrusted with thoughts and dreams and sometimes guilty admissions. Honored only by the consideration of others, I am valued enough to hold such precious cargo. Strangely enough, when it comes to my own person and mental solidarity, the boundaries that are necessary to maintain one’s self-worth have slow diminished. I am a giant sinking ship full band aid-patched holes, and I somehow expect to keep floating.
Wise words come only in the rarest of form for me to understand them. Believe it or not, I have the tendency to be incredible stubborn and mildly hardheaded. I hear but I do not always listen when it comes to advice being given to me. I am capable of fully understanding what I should do to keep myself afloat, but I have the innate ability to be a stubborn ass.
My little brother reminded me of how very human we all are and there are none left standing alone. He told me that regardless of our pasts, we all have the capability to change and grow. Our miscalculations and the lessons that come from them are the shapers of our future and the cornerstones to our foundation in this life. It’s a horrifying thought to think we are forced to rebuild ourselves consistently, but the amazing thing about blunders is that once they happen, they are over. I’m no saint, and I can testify to the great rippling affects that mistakes have on a person and their circumstances, but I am learning (slowly, albeit) that eventually the water settles. Any residual injuries may sting and scar, but as any action hero will tell you, scars serve as a tangible reminder of how far you’ve come...and they look really cool.
Little brother said, surprisingly infinite in his wisdom, that if we were all to sit down and make a list of our regrets, we probably wouldn’t be able to put one foot in front of the other, let alone get out of bed each and every day. If every time we screwed up we had to document it publicly in the newspaper, would we be more cautious of our choices? Maybe, but who’s to say that the weight of temptation and the simple fact that we are just human would overshadow any humiliation we may endure temporarily. The point is this: a lot of time is wasted, considering how long we dwell on these mishaps, instead of understanding that everyone, no matter what age, will never know it all. Cold. Hard. Truthful.
You think that by now, someone would have figured out scientifically how to prevent foot-in-mouth incidents, or drunken escapades. Some doctor out in the yet undiscovered universe is calculating a way for there to be less heartbreak by creating a more discerning race of people. Until then, I will choke and stutter when I stumble over my own words and wrong doings, and stand up proudly in the center ring. I am the conductor in this grand circus, and I say bring on the rings of fire.
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