And Oh, About That Thing

They say that this is life. And so, it goes.
They say that life happens to everyone. And so, it goes.

They tell me that some people are fortunate and some are less fortunate. Some are born from lucky gene pools, and some are born with natural talents and abilities that provide them with lifelong financial comfort.
I disagree that we are all created equally.
If this were so, then I would be far better when I train in Jiu-Jitsu classes, and my striking and stand-up would be enough for me to walk in to the best fight promotions in the world and be a top contender.
But no.
That’s not me.

We are not born equally.
No two people are the same. No two lives and no two secrets are the same. We are all wonderfully and tragically unique and inherently different, which is amazing to me.

I used to see this as a problem. Then again, I used to live my life on the basis of comparison and so, I lost my beauty in the wars of differences.

There are currently more than 8.2 billion people in this world. And it’s crazy to realize that no two are exactly alike. Of course, there are similarities. There are subtle differences, and some differences are both clear and apparent.
No one has the exact same beauty as anybody else and, at the same time, what is beauty?
What does it mean to be beautiful?
Does beauty have a shape or curves, imperfections or is beauty flawless, despite the so-called flaws or imperfections? Thus, it is true that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, to which I wonder, who will hold me? If this is you (for me) then when will I hold you again?

Life happens. And so, it goes.
The world spins. And so, it goes.
Hearts break. Tragedy takes place.
The world shakes.
And so, it goes.

Youth turns to age and the toddler turns to a teen.
So, it goes.
Teens find themselves in the face of young adulthood and, to them, the future is something for old people. I swear, I can relate to this.
Even still . . .
I am older now.
However, I have not let go of the need or the want nor the drive of being, living, or feeling young, like we did back when we were kids and we skipped school for the day.
I miss days like this.
Then again, being wild has nothing to do with age.
And oh, about that thing. About that thing we did or the times we shared or the places we saw.

I remember being young. I swear it was another lifetime ago. At the same time, I can remember and relate to the ideas of defying my future.
Like the time I knew I had something “outstanding” such as something legal that was unfortunate but true.
I figured i would dodge the bullet and miss the landmines.
I told the State to go fuck themselves regarding a fine that I saw as unjust and, more accurately, my youthful indignation figured I would catch a pass or pull a trick.
Until one day, I was pulled over after the sunrise on a Sunday morning.
I was still in my pajamas . . .
Ever have to go into a jail cell in your pajamas?
Not a fun thing.

Either way, I relate to being young or the ignorance of youth.
Bless them, I say.
Save them, I say
Ah, the young.
To them, there is nothing else except a plethora of tomorrows.
At least, this is the way I saw it . . .
So, why plan for the future, right?

Why think about ideas such as retirement or annuities and pensions? Why worry about ideas like insurance—this is something people need when they are old, right?
When you’re young, you swear to God and to anyone or anything that no matter what, “I’ll never grow old.”
Of course not.
This is only something young ones can think.
Growing old is for old people.
And I swore that would never be me.

So?
I am me. You are you.
And so, it goes.

This is life. As in, this is real life.
This is what’s happening right here and right now. Here I am again, sitting in the mix of too many things with too many emotions, and there is too much on my plate at once.
However, there is a word for this.
There is a word that defines and describes all of this.
That word is “life.”
And so, it goes.

Yes, safe to say that I thought like young men think.
Better yet, I thought the way that I thought.
I never saw how the end could catch up to me. I never took the time to read the fine print. And yes, oh yes.
I have signed a contract or two, and like any deal, the deal is done. There is no way to renege or back down. It’s too late for that now. The contract was signed, sealed, and delivered long ago.
This is life.
And so, it goes

I am the sum of my acts and my behaviors. I am in the wake of my consequences and aware of the aftermath that takes place after the fallouts of good things gone wrong.
I am the sum of my fears. I am the sum of my mishaps and my misfortunes; yet, here I am in the face of new changes.
I have new challenges ahead of me.
I am alone. I have outlived some of the statutes of limitations. Therefore, I have survived and outlived the expiration date of certain consequences.
I have outlived many of my worst predictions. I have fallen from grace and been reborn in a new sense that I, being as I am, and the world, being as it is, and since this is life, and since this is the way life goes; I find myself here at a fold in the pages of time.
I am aware now and opened to a new prospect or to an idea that I have lived and I have grown and I have certainly traveled much farther than I have ever expected.

Safe to say that if I looked back at my youth, or if I look at who I was when I entered the working world, I think my findings would be interesting.
Safe to say that if I looked back at myself when I was a prisoner of different items and wrapped in the affliction of self, or moreover, safe to say that when I was hostile and fearful, or when I was motivated by outrage or too afraid to dare or show my true face — if I look back, safe to say that I have defied my own predictions. And that’s good.

I have defied more than I can consider. I have survived because, safe to say, if I went back to my younger version of self, and if I asked the young version of me who I would be at this moment in time, I would have never seen myself as who I am.
I’d have assumed that I’d be dead by now.
But I’m not.
I would have never bet on myself or predicted that I would make it to where I am now. Nor would I have assumed that I would live this long because when I was young, I swore that I would never grow old.
I promised that I would never do that.
I swore that I would never surrender. I would always remember and, that no matter what, I swore that I would never resign my position in this rebellion.

And here I am.
Again.
And so it goes.
I am older now and younger in more ways than I realize.
My body does not act nor respond the way it did. I have to watch what I eat. I have to stay fit. I have to take care of myself. I have bills and taxes, and I have insurance. I have an annuity fund and a pension plan, which took a hit. But hey, I have them.

I am reminded of a thought when I look at my end-of-year statements, or as they say, all is fair in love and war. Then again, I wonder if the person who came up with that saying knew about this because of their divorce.

I have always seen life in the span of time. This means that life is completed with a beginning, a middle, and an end.
I think of the relation to both time and size. For example, I think about the tiny insects that live for 24 hours, which is nothing.
That’s one day’s time. But those 24-hours are a lifetime to the insect.
I see life this way.
I think about when I was a little kid in a classroom and how long it took to get through the school year. I think about the span of time when I was small and how a full year seemed like forever.
I think about how I have grown.
I think about how years seem to peel from the calendar now.

I have been on my own for nearly two years. This is the longest that I have ever lived by myself.
I think about how I must have blinked or turned away for too long and next, weeks flew by, and time ran out. But this is life.
And so, it goes.

I think about the span of one day, which is not compared to the 24-hour life of a gnat or the little flying insect.
However, I can see how I am small and thus, in the grand scheme of it all, I compare life to one day —morning, noon, and night.
Some are born with pleasant weather and some are born with storms and hurricanes.
I can understand this.
My life has seen both storms and hurricanes, yet I can say that I have never had to survive a tornado or an earthquake. But I am where I am.
And this is where I’m at.

I am me. I am not sure what beauty is nor am I sure if I am beautiful or not.
Maybe I am. Or maybe I am ugly or just average and unnoticeable
I am not sure if I am fortunate; yet I know that I am more fortunate than others. So, this is life and therefore; in the case of Kimmel vs Life, the jury has concluded that yes, I am fortunate.

I am far from the morning of my birth and suffice to say that I am passed the noontime, which is not to say that I am at my twilight. Or at least, I hope not.
Not yet.

I am in the afternoon of my life and hence, I have to prepare for a better sunset. I need to do this so that I can stand the chances of seeing the best of the moonlight. I want this. I’d prefer to share this with someone like you. And yes, I hope that the starlight is enough to whisper when I sleep.

I never thought that I would think about the ideas of my retirement.
But I am now.
And I might be alone. I might not find or feel or have love until the hour of my death (amen).
I might not be compatible. I might be crazy.
I might be too out of touch and I might be too far to reach.
And so, it goes.
So, if I should take this time to do anything for myself, then I will take this time to realize that life cannot be lived in the rearview mirror.

Do I want to live?
Yes, of course I do
I wanted to live, even back when I wanted to die.
(If that makes sense. . .)
I wanted to live and to see and feel. I wanted to experience things, like walks in the park or sitting on a park bench with someone I love and not care about the masses or status or other people who had their thoughts or shared their opinions.

I used to hear people tell me that I’ll understand more about life when I get older.
And, well, I’m older now.

At this point, I resign from my previous stations. I relinquish my hold and my grounds and the wardrobes and disguises I wore to pretend to be somebody else. I surrender my past. I surrender my hatred and rage and my resentments and the unresolved tensions that kept me stuck.

At this point, and effective immediately, I am stepping down and bowing out, both humbly and gracefully, because modestly, I am no longer willing to compete like this.
I am no longer concerned with yesterday’s events, nor can I repair the damage or change the contracts which I signed to create a quick fix during my regrettable yesterdays.

I am not at the sunset of my life. However, I want to be no different from Joseph of Arimathea and hopefully, like him, I am not too far from the Kingdom of Heaven.

I suppose an adaptation is in order. I suppose a change of heart took place, or maybe when my friend took his own life, I was reminded of the time that I survived my own attempt.
I remember what happened to me and how I woke up on a dirty bathroom floor.

I am awakening to this new chapter, afraid of course and doubtful too. However, I am sure that there is something good waiting for me. And yes, my aim is to retire and live down south. I want to go away, and be far from my past.

I understand that time is ticking. And I understand that life changes. So does beauty because even the most beautiful things from our past can tarnish or turn ugly. Like the lies we discovered which would still be happening if we never found them out.
But this is why I am looking ahead, because fuck my past.
Those contracts are behind me now.

And to you, R.O.
It’s amazing how time flies and days peel from the calendar.
You are timeless now.
But not me.

I suppose we tend to think that once we’re gone, we’re gone and so it goes.
But no, those who remain hold us more dearly than we considered.

We are always more than we consider.
We always had what it took to “make it.”
We just didn’t know we were beautiful,
at least I didn’t know . . .

I hope you know this now, despite what happened or what took place.
I don’t judge.
Besides, the last guy that walked on water died a long time ago, and as the story goes, I heard that people weren’t so nice to him either.

Come to think of it, tomorrow is Easter.
I think I’ll close this journal tomorrow then.
But no matter what, you’re always going to be my friend.
No one can ever change the word “pals” for me.
Not a judge
Not a jury
Not anyone
Not an in-law
Nor family

Ride or die—you never leave the ones you love.
No matter what, son!

No matter what.