I sit and listen and wonder. Wonder about life and love and the things that make this crazy world spin around. There's always the nagging "What are we here for?" but more commonly for me "What am I meant to do?" The narcissistic side of me believes that I'm here to make people happy and that somehow I belong in certain people's lives for some certain reason. The pessimistic part of me thinks that I don't make much of a difference in certain lives and who am I to think that things can change.
In the past few years I've been through quite a few ups and downs...thinking I was meant to be a part of someone's life for the rest of mine...then quickly realizing that this other person wasn't even on the same page; let alone the same book, as me. Escaping that sinking ship, I made my way back home...back to safety, back to the family and friends I had known all my adult life. For a couple years, I built back my self-esteem and did things that I didn't know I could...I LIVED...I realized for the first time, that I didn't need to make other people happy...I could be selfish and buy crap that I really didn't need. I could go out and stay out as long as I wanted. While I look back fondly on those times, I knew the inevitable truth was looming in the distance...when am I going to grow up? Or was there some sort of "in between" mode...could I still look out for myself and take care of another?
Now that I've moved out again and I'm living with another...I realize that there is a fine line that can be traversed. While I struggle with certain realities of "growing up", I do realize that in the end...it's the people I touch along the way that defines who I am. I'm a conglomerate of past and present friends, family and lovers.
Yet, why do I hold on so dearly to the past? What lies in those times that I'm so afraid to let go of? I truly believe in my hear of hearts that if I were to call on past friends for anything, they would respond without a moments' hesitation...for I would do the same for them. And while I know it was me who made the conscious decision to move away (60 miles only), I feel punished for doing so. Friends whom I stood next to, don't contact me like they used to...steady streams of phone calls and text messages fade away and I still hold my head up high, standing by my decision to move and be closer to work...which has become another defining characteristic of that which is ME. And while I mourn the lose of friendships I grew up with, I cherish the new people I've met in my journeys. Friends that have taught me what I know in my job, friends that have inspired me to become what I am now, friends that understand the person I am now (flaws and all). In a perfect world, these two "sets" would become one...but a perfect world would mean no challenge...no reward...no sacrifice. My only wish is that my past friends can understand the decisions I've made and why I made them.
And now that I go back read through this junk...I hope that someone out there can catch onto my stream of consciousness and relate to what I'm going through. Torn between the past and present, the happy and sad, the good and evil, the love and hate. The duplicity of life will always be a mystery to me, but an enigma that I'm willing to deal with...so long as I become a better person for contemplating it and posting it on the web for everyone to read.
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