Mar 15, 2008 19:13
This is my last public LJ entry. I use this site as an outlet what weighs heavily on my mind. Why am I sharing them when all of my posts are unfocused rants? I think I'd like to keep my secrets and my running, crazed thoughts to myself.
I've got, er, some problems right now. I'm searching right now for a quick-fix but that won't happen. Solutions are not easy to come by. They don't present themselves, neatly wrapped in colorful paper. Like any thing of value, they have to be dug for, sometimes in the hardest ground to break: One's own human clay. More often than not, mining one's self leads to fool's gold, unless the pick is taken to one's pride. One must break off a chunk, and swallow it. A bitter pill, for a better tomorrow.
So that is why I am not going to focus on MY problems for once. I hope that helping someone else will lead me to find my own solutions.
Hope is an aspiration. Hope is what makes us human. For when reality threatens to destroy us, we reach inward and we create hope. It's the greatest gift we can give each other... Even though it just may be the foundation to a house of cards.
What am I getting at? I guess I just want to try to articulate myself on here since I do such a shitty job in real life. Recently, a few of my friends are being faced with death. People close to them are dying. What can you say to a friend who is hurting so badly from someone else's pain? What can be said to someone who only has one thing that can make them feel better that nobody can possibly give? The best that I can do is listen and tell them that everything is going to be alright. ...Which may be true, but it is a cold comfort.
If I could take away their pain, I would. Instead, I'm going to swear that I will always be there for my friends. Whatever capacity that they need me, I'll do it. My friends mean more to me right now than anything else and I want to make sure that they all know just how much they mean to me.
"Death is before me today:
Like the recovery of a sick man,
Like going forth into a
garden of sickness.
Death is before me today:
Like the odor of myrrh,
Like sitting under a sail
in a good wind.
Death is before me today:
Like the course of a stream,
Like the return of a man
from the war-galley to
his house.
Death is before me today:
Like the home that a man longs to see,
After years spent as a captive.
And I walk with her, and I hear
the gentle beating of mighty wings..."
~Neil Gaiman
So what? I guess everyone has to decide that part.