Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Chapter 1 -- What Was Never Written

My life was like a broken record – skipping in the same spot halfway through my favorite song. I took advantage of time. I was blind to change and numb with fear. I see fragments of my life. Like a complicated tree, it has branches reaching toward the heavens and roots chasing each other in different directions.

I find comfort in seeing this same pattern in the jagged peaks of a mountain range, the scabbiness of a sage bush, and the flowers that bloom in the cruelest conditions.

The patterns are going away. Now, I see in cycles.

That is what he represents -- a relentless, desperate churning that renews the old into the new, the new into the old. It’s comfortable. It’s a rhythm; a lullaby that coos to me over the drone of life. He makes me feel good.

The things I always want to say are right there, practically tumbling out of my mouth. First, I feel like apologizing. Mostly about everything I put you through, dragging you behind me into the darkness of becoming an adult. I knew you were there, that you understood, but I also knew that I could have made it more enjoyable for all of us. I was selfish. Maybe I still am.

I know that everything that happened was not a coincidence. It all needed to happen for me to become someone that I actually like, some one that I am more or less almost content with.

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