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By jwb71913 Date: 2003 Nov 15 Comment on this Work [[2003.11.15.14.15.3843]] |
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I sit and think about all I have, what it means to me and where I am heading with my so-called life. I wonder which me would write to my future self on that website, and how long a letter it might be. My future self might not want to hear from my present self, former selves are certainly not welcome in this house. I've heard that people are the sum of their experience, and that wisdom comes not from books, but from pain. If that is so, then the sum does not equal its parts, and that turns my logical self into a raving madman. Ahh that logical self, so wise in his naivete yet so foolish with his heart. Emotions do not flow with mathematical predictability, nor are they subject to laws of physics. The breathless moment when a lover calls, the increased heart rate of a warrior before battle, the flight of soul at a first kiss, the blush at tentative and clumsy first lovemaking. These are pieces of my former self, yet where is the wisdom? I have learned nothing and everything by this. By my own admission, I am a collector of broken people, who came to me broken and are now strewn along the path behind me. Do not lean on me, for I am weak myself, and cannot carry. Do not demand of me, for I am sore and weary of the struggle. I screamed to the wind, do not let me love, but the wind blew and my cry was unheard. I could not help but love, it was explosive within me, I sat with a finger in the dyke while up to my neck in love, I denied and pushed away. And then it was lost. So, here I am wondering if my future self will deny the existence of such a pitiful oaf. And I sit. |