"If there is no great glorious end to all this, if nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do. 'cause that's all there is. What we do, now, today."
Maybe, there's a reason for all the pain. Maybe not? But what I know for sure, is that we can't take it all at once. I tried to be the good person, to give of myself, in the right way. Without hurting any one, or myself. I know I am not perfect, in any way. No one is. Really. But, I also find it hard to imagine a world where there is less pain.
We can start over, whenever we want. It’s a wonderful opportunity that we have. Taking it for granted will lead anyone down a dark path. I might not always be aware, what good I release in the world. But I will try to savor the small moments. What else can I do to make it feel like there’s a meaning to all this madness? I don’t imagine, I’m the only one with self-doubt. In fact, I am painfully aware how it infects all of us, at some point in our lives. I’ve gotten knocked down to size, yet again. It hurts, more than I can describe. Maybe it is possible to get out on the other side better? I sure hope I can do the impossible for the millionth time. That is why, this is Day One.
I love looking at things I've written a decade ago - am I really getting that old? Then, some times you come across a poem where you wonder what was going through you at the time. You can't really remember what brought you to that place where the poem came from. To be honest, I remember being an angsty teen and really focused on the bad things that were happening in my life, but still I can't remember who I wrote this about. I honestly always draw from my own experiences in life so this must have meant something to me. For the life of me, I wish I could remember. I published the following very short poem online in 2003: --- What can I say, to make it all better? What can I do, to make it last forever? What can I see, that you don't in me? ---- I find it funny now, that I could be so completely lost in someone to write such a poem. Yet, I think it comes with the territory of being a teenager. You obsess and worry and wonder why love hasn'
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