And This? This Is More

Maybe I’ll never be “okay.”
If there is such a thing.
Maybe I’ll always want more.
Or maybe . . .

Maybe I’ll always look around and see what other people have and to me, there will never be enough.
Maybe there is something to be said about living in a frequent state of envy.
Maybe this is where our madness comes from because whether we try or die, we look around and experience an absence of grace or the spirit of achievement.
And so, we want more.
And yes, maybe this is why people cheat or cut corners or sneak around and look to get over.

I have never been exceptional or great at anything.
I am good at things. But I have never been great at anything.
And I want this.
One thing.
Just one thing.
I want to be great at just one thing.

I want to be better at one thing and more than anything else in life; I want to be better at this than anything or anyone else in the world.

Please let me be clear. I call this reflection.
Or maybe this is more like a mission statement.

Some might say this is self-depracating.
And maybe there’s truth to this.
Or maybe I want more, and so, looking around I can say that perhaps my disappointment comes because, deep down, I know that I am capable of better.
I know I am capable of more yet, something holds me back.

I suppose this is me.
Of course, this is me.
Who else could hold me back?
No one can stop me, except for me, because even if someone stepped in front of me or tried to stop me and get in my way; no one can stop me from growing. No one can stop me from working.
No one can stop me from trying and no one (but me) can make me quit.
No one . . .

I have dreams.
I have several of them.
I have dreams and desires and needs, which are not met—at least, not yet.

Maybe my dreams are too unrealistic

or maybe nothing is real and this is all a dream to begin with.
I have heard arguments about this that yes, life is nothing more than a dream.
Some might call theirs a nightmare.
But I refuse to live my life like it was a nightmare.

I am going to call this an honest assessment or otherwise, I will call this my truth, which is not always easy to face—I know.Some will say this is a case or “me against me” or “I against I.”

And sure, I can see how this is a case of me against me.
I can see the different sides of me—the good, the bad, the indifferent, and the scared, the confused, the angry, and the eager side, which is the true side and this is the only side that I need to pay attention to.

I have never been great at anything.
I’m good at a lot of things.
But great?
I am not sure.

I know that when I was younger or back when I was outraged and resentful; and back when my confusion took the best of me, or when my heart was filled with angst and my contempt was raised to an unthinkable level—I allowed my outrage to get the best of me.
I allowed my belief that the best I could do would be left in the hands of destruction.
I knew how to break things.
I knew how to lie.
I knew how to hurt people.
I knew how to steal or manipulate.
I knew how to destroy.
I believed in the worst of my abilities and somehow, I allowed this to become my best and the focus to which allowed me to perfect my hatred.

And why?
To what avail?
Where did this lead me?
Aside from here . . .

The only thing I can do perfectly is be me.
And so, if I am unhappy with me then I am only unhappy with me because deep down, I know that I can do better.
I know that I am capable of more.
I know that happiness does not come without the contrast or the understanding of sadness.

Love—

I want to perfect this.
I want to rid myself or the bullshit or the pretentious façade—and even more, I want to let go of anything that held me back because if it is true and the clocks can never rewind and if the clock is always moving, then I have to beware because Father Time is always going to be undefeated.

Watch ye, for ye not know when the Master of the House cometh.

I think of this line.
I think about the line which says no one knows the hour or the day. Not the Angels in Heaven. Not even The Son.
Only The Father knows.

I am sorry for my past.
I am sorry for all I have done and for who I have hurt or destroyed, deceived, or punished for pains that they never caused—yet, they paid dearly for my problems and my fears and doubts, discomforts and pain.

I am sorry that I never stood tall on my own.
I once wrote to you and said, “A broken soul can only care for its own.”
I explained how the eyes are the windows to the soul and therefore, there is something to be said about the reciprocity and mutual madness of codependency and predatory living.

I was a predator.
I admit this.
I was weak and cowardly.
I never allowed myself or dared to feel my love or share this fairly.

And sure.
I felt love.
I felt fear too and worry and I felt the anxiety that nothing good lasts forever, and so, why love fairly if fate and destiny play unfair parts in the land of heartbreak and letdowns.

I refuse to be how I was.
I do not care who says “What” about me.
I don’t care about my past anymore.
I understand that forgiveness is not always returned or guaranteed.
Therefore, I forgive myself for my fear.
I forgive myself for being weak and cowardly.
I realize that the best amends are to leave people alone.
I realize that multiple apologies are not so apologetic and more selfish because the apology is to be forgiven—and if I am sorry, and should I truly apologize—the receipt of this is not up to me.

Therefore, I cannot expect forgiveness, nor can I make my apologies about me—

And lastly, same as there is no absolution of sin without true sorrow of sin, an apology without meaning is the same as a confession without sorrow.

It’s okay to make mistakes.
It is human to fight or hurt each other.
This happens.
But to be better means we must live better.

Oftentimes, the best amends is to leave someone alone. Or more, stop repeating the crime.
Stop using the same excuse.

To the exes of my life, I apologize.
To you, and to my future life with you, I will never be who I was again.
Then again, if I was who I was, then in fairness, I will never have you—at least, not completely

And that’s the thing.
I have had enough of living an incomplete life.
So, if I am to have you, then I have to love you completely

I want to kiss you. Right now, in fact.
I want to hear the sound you make when we introduce our bodies to one another.
I want to hear the sound you make when I am about to pass through your gates and enter your sea.

No one in the world deserves what I did in my past.
I know this.
My past is gone now.
And do I deserve you?
I don’t know.

I have never been great at any “one specific thing.” But if you let me, I want to be great at this.
I want to be great at loving you. And I want this from now until the hour of my death because when I face my Creator, I know what I will have to answer for.

I know what I have done.
But knowing you in ever sense of the word is the only thing that would make Heaven seem subpar and hell would be a breeze because I will have you in my heart and the memory of you to last throughout eternity

I have never been great at anything
I think I can change this
(If you’ll let me)