How poignant the words of the past can be in a moment of need. How those words are never more true than the moment they are needed. I write mostly out of selfish ambition. A self righteous idea that some how someone somewhere will find what I have to say appealing and important to them. Simply, though, it is nothing more than the ramblings of a disenchanted, optimist who wants to believe the glass is half-full, but knows in reality it is also half-empty.
These past few days have been wrought with anguish, disappointment, sadness, and conviction. A friend told me that what I am looking for exists in rare quantities and I am unlikely to find what I desire. A part of me knows that to be true; a part of me denies it.
How easily it is to be drawn away from the things that are most important. How life’s events can become a convenient distraction to the commitments and responsibilities that lie beyond the ordinary. How few people will ever commit to the extraordinary for fear of losing the ordinary.
The searing pain of loss is sometimes too much to handle. And we act in ways that we regret so we mitigate the hurt. Love may not be enough, but neither is I’m sorry.
It is only through anguish, disappointment, sadness, and conviction that I can turn a new leaf and begin again. When we are happy we content not to change anything until something external causes change; When we are unhappy is when the most change can occur.
I am sad to have endured the pain and suffering of the past week, but I know that it is what will give me motivation to move forward and make what lies ahead worth the loss.