But teacher, I Am Trying (My Best)

Years later.
I do not relate to the way things were, back when my times in yellow cabs swooshed through the streets in New York City.
I was well dressed and self-absorbed but more, I was blind because I knew the lies within were about to bubble over at any given moment.
You can lie to the world.
You can put on a brave face.
You can fix your smile and deny as much as you choose.

But the truth is always going to be the truth
I was always told to watch for the changes. I was told that the tides can turn and fortune can turn to unfortunate in a matter of minutes.

I remember when I was a young boy and my Father, The Old Man used to try and teach me about the different clouds.
He told me you can learn to tell the weather if you learn to understand the clouds.
I suppose I should have paid more attention because yes, when it rains, it pours in the storms we call life. And had I looked up or paid attention, I could have made a change or accounted for the weather.
But no.
I got caught in the storm without.
I was caught in the rain without a raincoat or an umbrella.
I suppose, this is how we learn sometimes:
The hard way.

I am simple now. Alone too, which is fine by now because
otherwise, I would have been stuck in my unsure belief and the state of disarray.

I was unaware of what to do and incapable of facing the truth that not all things are as they seem. And the same can be said about people too. Not all promises are kept and not all lies are true, if that makes sense.

Nothing is as it was.
And nothing will ever be the same (again)
Then again, I have said this enough times and so much so that my redundancy is enough to realize the rest is useless.
There is no reason to fight about the loss and nor is there any redemption if we fight about the past.
Yesterday is gone.
I know.

There are times when things split or break apart.
No one wants this.
But life has ways of removing us from places or taking people out of our life, for our own best interest.

I see everyday remnants of my previous life. Yet the things I miss about my old life are growing more distant and trailing away like the dying light of an old burning bride.

It is better for me to realize the accomplishments than to see my faults or flaws. And yes, I failed.
I know I did.
Then again, we take our fortunes for granted and so, we fail to realize the wealth of simple things until one day, those simple things are gone and never to return.

Suffice to say, I should have looked at the cloud formations.
Safe to say, the writing was on the walls.
But I was too afraid to look.
Suffice to say, we paint ourselves into corners.
Safe to say, deep down, we knew the truth was a bunch of lies.
But like I said, I was too afraid to look.
I was too afraid to let go and more than anything, I was too afraid that I would lose everything and go back to being a failure
(again)

I listen to people say, “You have to get over this.”
I hear this all the time, to which I agree and yet, I challenge this as well because grief takes time.

Grief—
ah the word.
Grief means the same by definition. But to each is their own meaning and to each is our own connotation and process.

Grief, as in the sadness or the deep sorrow of loss of life or death. And yes, we die all the time.
We die alive in different ways.
This is true.
We experience the aches and pains that begin with our first childhood crush to the older versions of lust or love.
Some are lucky.
Some fake it.
Some pretend to be happy.
But me?
I can’t help dreaming.

Then again, my dreams always fall short with the interruption of an alarm clock—and then, I wake up.
I wake up alone and roll to face the other side of my bed.
Empty—
I wake to find myself in my current state, aware again, and the feelings in my heart are as though I am back at the beginning, as if to be aware all over again.

I think about the way people say, “Just get over it,” as if this makes things easier.
People say “just get over it,” as if this pushes a button, and “just” like that, we can forget where we were or what we lost.
No.
I don’t think so.
I think life shows us subtle reminders of what he had, what we lost, and what we’ll never have again.
And yes, that hurts.

“Just get over it!”
This is the same to me as saying “just don’t throw up,” when suffering through the fits of vomit to a person who is sick with food poisoning.
“Just don’t die.”
“Just don’t get cancer!”
And like I’ve been telling you, sometimes the word “just” is a word that “just” doesn’t fit.

I am never going back to where I was.
And this is not because the welcomes are gone.
No.
I realize the life I had was never the life that belonged to me. And still, I knew this all the while.
I knew that I wanted more.
I wanted success.
I wanted the feelings of victory or the greatness of having respectable positions, which I had, and fully earned.

Yet . . . 
Time knows when we are not where we are supposed to be. And we know this, which is why we implode, or self-sabotage and fold inwardly. This is what happens when we find ourselves, sinking to the fact that our need for satisfaction is missing or only partly met.

I know that there is no substitute for truth.
And I know there is only one truth.
But Teacher, trust me when I tell you, “I am trying my best.”

I say this because I have learned that no crime against us is worse than the crime of not being loyal to our truth.
My truth is still the same.
But my life and my circumstances are not the same.

 It is often seen that the hardest or most painful lessons are the ones that we learn too late.
But what If nothing is ever too late?

What if life is about to unfold?
What if fate changes suddenly and out of nowhere, what if my current life is about to be brighter?
What if my new life is far better and my true love is enough to remove my memory and dissolve the shadows from my past?

Grief is all too real.
In fact, my Mother mourned the death of my Father until the day she died. And I know.
I was there.
I was there when she was in the hospital for previous concerns, drugged and in pain, and pleading for the end to come.
I remember Mom was screaming the name of my Father and for God to “take her” with hopes that God would come and rescue my Mother from the pain.

I understand loss.
I understand the feelings of mourning.
I understand the sadness of how life carries on.
Life does not stop, regardless of our sadness or grief.
Time keeps on moving, and yes, life keeps on teaching us that the world is not what we think.

Everything changes.

I want to move on.
I want to be comfortable and  see how yesterday has gone away to an unobjectionable place.
No need to wonder or worry or even care.
I want the past to erase and the memories to vanish and lose their value.

I want my place to be free from the burdens of lonesome ideas.
Life is bound for a change.
And so is our sadness and lamenting about the fact that the past can never be restored.

There is no going back
So . . .
go forward.
I understand.

I would gladly say goodbye to all of “What was” to have what I wish for.
But someone told me something the other day.
You get what you fight for.
Not what you wish for.
I get that.

We don’t have to die alive anymore.

And, if I have my way or if my fight for my dream is won, my life will change when the alarm goes off, which leads me to roll to the other side of my bed and see the love of my life to hear her say,

“Good morning.”

 You get what you fight for
Not what you wish for.
I like that . . .I will fight for this until I die
Trust me