How did it come to this? I have asked myself this question consistently persistently over the last year, where “it” was all of my hopes and dreams and “this” is EVERYTHING I am today. Now then, how…? Naturally, to find the answer, I retrace the steps. I review my notes. And I wonder if any positive account I’ve drawn up for myself is revisionist. So, “logically”, I review it. And, “logically”, I revise it. Logically…
I’ve spent so much time recounting all the ways the last few years have been so tiring, all the ways I’ve made it tiring, and all the ways I’m going to keep it from being so tiring in the future. I am trying to learn, and grow from everything that’s happened. I reflect. I chat with others for insight. And sometimes it’s hard to just come to terms with the fact that my dream image of my future has somewhat deteriorated into the present, a not-so-displeasing present, but still it’s not quite the present that I had envisioned for myself at the dawn of my adulthood when everything seemed possible. I feel like the probability cloud collapsed, and I determined conclusively that the cat was dead (or I was in the world with the dead cat)! And out of some humanly affection for the playful, curious, furry creatures was it that I experienced remorse in the discovery – a result that is reasonable but unforeseen because it was irrelevant to the purpose of the experiment.
Alright, so probability clouds are collapsing every second, and what had been trees of possibilities in my future are turning into concrete stories from my past. I’m finding solace in the indeterminacy of what’s left to come – there are many branches yet to break off. But with every move forward through time, I change. I am not the same me from 10 years ago, even if I apply the same resolve to my future as I did then. Things happened; damage was done, and it left scars even after healing, like timestamps dating me back to the day I was born.
So, I returned my hair back to its natural colour. It is a symbolic gesture. New hair will grow in healthy, and strong. And as for my damaged, dry, cracking dark red/brown hair? I decided not to maintain it. It was becoming at the time, but then it faded. And with each touch-up came an increasing need - both physical and psychological - to touch it up. I can’t undo the damage, but I can treat it. And I can’t take back my time, but I can prevent myself from further expending it.
(Originally published October 22, 2011)
I shared with you everything I had; I’d have died for you.
I poured out my heart and my soul, and I cried for you.
I ended friendships and said good-byes for you.
And with tireless hope, I tried for you.
And all this could have worked if true love were one-sided,
Or if you had tried similarly to how I did.
Like I was unable to succeed without you.
And I was too weak to speak out or doubt you.
That I vented, reflected, gave up, but then I grew
Out of the constraints that I felt loving you.
Love is more than self-sacrifice, and not necessarily life-long.
Love enables, enlightens, and makes you feel strong.
So, I will greet the world with hello’s; not deny it.
I will embrace every new opportunity before trying it.
I am going to live for love; not die for it.
I’m going to feel free; not cry for it.
And I guess I’m reiterating what we already knew:
That the love that we shared wasn’t love that was true.