Sometimes, you have to be lost to get found.
Or maybe you’ll never know about what’s missing until one day, you find something in this world. You see something that you can’t live without. Maybe this happens all the time or perhaps this only happens once in a while.
Or, maybe this only comes once in a lifetime. Maybe –
I can say that, yes, we all have our times and our moments. I can say that life is like the tides of the ocean, rising and falling, coming in and then rushing out.
I can say that the world is truly cosmic and alive. There are also times when the night is quiet and the sky is filled with stars.
You can see this too, but differently; as if something inside you is awake now and yearning for something more. Of course, I say this with the emphasis on MORE . . .
I can say that I do think about the friends I used to have. I think about people who, in fairness, I’m not sure if we were ever friends at all. I don’t even know if we ever knew each other. I do think that people pretend though – especially when they run into an old familiar face and say the typical fake things like, “Oh wow, you look great.” Meanwhile, they hardly know your name.
I can think of the people in my life who were only circumstantial.
Or, perhaps situational is a better word. What about environmental? Could this word fit too?
Think about the way things were in school. Think back to when we had no choice of who we sat with or ate lunch with. Think about the earlier days in grade school when the world was limited to a small view.
But you grow. You advance. You find yourself promoted to the next grade or the next level.
You move up.
You know?
You move and you spread your wings.
Maybe you fly away if you have the guts to do so.
I’m not sure that everyone is brave enough for this part.
Most of all, I’m not so sure that people are aware that their world is so small or limited
(and safe).
Then again, there are some people who’ve never seen the outside of their little towns nor do they have the means or the reason to go elsewhere. There are people who will never try or dare to see other things or experience other places.
I will say that on occasion, I’ll see someone who used to be at least somewhat of a fixture in my life. I say this as my past life, which does not mean that I lived before or that I mean this in the sense of a past-life regression.
More so, I mean this in the sense that I’ll see someone from a long-ago yesterday.
Or a name will come up from my past which is fine; but at the same time, I don’t know who I was back then. I don’t recognize that person anymore. I don’t recognize the things that I saw or the people who I saw them with.
Maybe this is growth.
Maybe this is due to a turn of events which revealed the different layers of truth to me.
Maybe these are the facts that I had either grown or improved enough to realize that something about my surroundings was either off or unfitting.
I’m not sure if this means that I grew or outgrew my places at the time.
Maybe my intentions changed.
Maybe my levels of motivation came from a different angle.
Maybe I practiced my so-called goodbyes for way too long or maybe, and finally, I came to the realization that none of this was fitting for me. I wanted more. Of course, I say this with an emphasis on the word MORE . . . .
Every so often, I come across an old prose of mine.
I see the difference in my voice which is not to say that my writing voice was not me back then.
It was me. All the way.
This is the way I talk; however, I do not speak the same as I did ten years back.
My voice has evolved – and I hope this continues to evolve. I hope to improve; otherwise, how else will I ever pull off my trick?
How will I reach this thing I’ve been searching for?
I can say that you and these journals have become an eye-opening adventure for me.
I can say that while I’ve always known there’s “something” out there for me; I’ve also known that while something was missing. I know that I was lost and that I had been found. I know that I was hurting too; in which case, I never knew how much it meant to heal until the relief came my way.
Relief. Now, there’s a good word.
A feeling of reassurance.
A moment of relaxation.
A feeling of ease and, ah, a moment that is free from distress or anxiety.
Relief – to at last be unhinged and disconnected from the difficulties around us and removed from the stress or the bitch-of-it-all life that goes on around us.
Relief, as in to be absolved from guilt or discomfort and, at last, to experience the sensation of joy – or even if it’s not joy, just to be okay or like Van Morrison sang, “Just to dig it all. Not to wonder. That’s just fine” and like he said, “I would be satisfied not to read in-between the lines.”
I know where I was in my life. I know that there were times when I was unaware. I was that person who was comfortable in his own cage. I knew there was a big world out there and, yes, there were challenges beyond the gates of comfort.
Even if my comfort was uncomfortable, at least I knew what to expect.
I knew about the rules of engagement and the transactions which took place. I knew about all of these things because while I’ll grant that this might not be the coolest sense of happiness – at least you know what you’re getting.
Some people live their entire life in an encapsulated mind and never look to be set free.
They remain stuck or hinged upon a routine, or they stay locked in an environment that is, above all things, predictable.
Some people like this. Some people don’t.
Some people dive out of airplanes. Some people prefer the ground.
Some like warm weather and the beach. Some hate the sand and, for them, they’d prefer a different place.
To each his own, I suppose.
I once wrote about my old life:
I don’t mind that you didn’t recognize me.
We passed each other and the strange thing was, there was nothing ironic about this which, of course, this is the ironic part because this only proved how strange we were to each other. This shows how little you knew of me or I about you.
It meant nothing that you walked passed me. There were no feelings.
There was nothing; no space between us, no chemistry supplied or anything fake that had to occur, like when you see someone so randomly.
There was no reason to lie and say “Hey, how are you,” or act like we care.
Or the need to say, Hey! You look great . . .
There was nothing to this at all
Plain and simple
We are like strangers now because we’ve always been strangers.
We are either estranged or strange in a sense that there is no linkage between us anymore.
I say this because, after all, and let’s face it – there never was.
It was all protocol or situational or perhaps circumstantial.
But eventually, the doors opened wider.
Well, at least mine did.
At least one of us learned to spread our wings
(and fly away).
Sometimes people are just an idea that make sense at the time.
This is an idea that makes us regular or which made you sensible to me (or me to you).
So yes, we hung around together to make something right about a wrong idea.
I don’t mind that you never understood or recognized this because the truth is you never knew me.
At the same time, I never knew you.
The groups we find ourselves “forced with” are often like two dissimilar metals which corrode one another when coupled with the wrong pair. This is called a mismatched life.
Or, with friendships, we combined two dissimilar lives and ideas with similar fears (of being alone or not “included”).
No one wants to be that “faceless” face in the crowd.
I don’t mind that we are strangers now.
I never cared about your dreams.
I had no clue about them.
I had no idea what they were or why
Not to mention the fact that I was too busy worrying about my own self.
I was worrying about my own head
Same as you –
Then the sun came up or went down
(I can’t remember)
But the light changed and so did the view.
The way I looked was different.
And the world looked different to me too.
Maybe we realized this, no?
Maybe one of us came to a turning point and turned around
Maybe that was me which is why I stood up, pushed my chair back in, turned around . . .
and walked away.
Maybe this is where realization came in and, finally, I grew aware about the limitations of the social cage.
Maybe I was angry about being afraid
Maybe I was angry about the trades I made –
I was angry about the cost of living
(this is true).
I was angry about the cost of dying without knowing what it means to be alive
I was angry about the long lines at the express lane and the horrible wait in doctor’s offices.
I was angry about traffic on the expressway and about the greener grass in the neighbor’s yard.
So, I blamed the world.
Including you, the strangers from my familiar past.
I see this as an entity of my change and the reason why I don’t go down the same pathways anymore.
I don’t mind when people don’t recognize me.
This only means they didn’t know me.
And to you who are on the outside, you will never know me nor will I know you
and that’s fine.
I don’t need to read in-between the lines anymore.
This shows me how far I’ve come.
This also shows me how far away my past is – even if my past is only yesterday; it’s still gone.
More and more . . .
I am unafraid
Tomorrow . . .
Just one more day
Stick around though
I have so much more to say.
The Written Addiction 