The end of an era.
Stop, if you don't like cliche's . I'm sure I'm going to hit a dozen or so of them in here, and it'll save you some time.
Bah. You're still reading. Oh well.
Ever get to the point in your life where you realize you've outlived your own story? It strikes me that I'm either at that point, or have recently passed it without even the slightest of indication.
Ten years ago, there were a series of events, statements, and other factors that lead me to really open my eyes to the world.
And now that those ten years are at a closure, allow me to express what I have seen.
First, let's talk about life.
Life plods on, really without caring about anyone it tramples over in it's path, and seems to inexplicably raise a select few above the torrent without any specific design or intent.
I've seen new life, and old death. I've seen life exist and persist when it had no reason to, and I've seen death hovering quietly around those who had no reason to fear it.
I've managed to find myself on both sides of the barrel of a gun. And I've found myself wielding a gun to my own head.
I've raised my fist in anger possibly as often as I have raised my fists in fear.
I'm guilty of deaths I had no previous intent to cause, and I've been found innocent of a death that I intended to carry out someday.
I've managed to be called a murderer and a hero within the same ten minutes. With equal amounts of conviction and sincerity.
I've watched mortal enemies fade into the background, disappear, or perish altogether.
It's a very odd thing to hold hate, contempt and angst in your heart for so long, only to discover the target of all that malice is no longer present to be targeted.
What then, do you do with those feelings? Do you simply acknowledge defeat, and accept it? Do you wonder what to do with the sudden holes inside? If a person is a balance inside, equal parts negative and positive, what is meant to happen when the negative is....negated?
Feel relieved? Feel empty? Confused? Overjoyed and content?
I've let my closest friends...almost family..... become strangers. I've let strangers become closer to me than I've let loved ones.
I've lied, deceived, cheated, mislead, and all other forms of subterfuge. For my own gains, for other's gains, and for no gains at all.
And I've held back the truth, out of fear, respect, protection, love, and simple apathy.
And on that note, let's talk about love.
As most people have, I've managed to find love, lose love, rediscover love, and misunderstand love.
I've been engaged twice, married once, divorced once. Not bad for 10 years. Could have done worse. Could have done better.
I've had my heart ruined, and I've done my share of ruining.
I've chased down ghosts, exorcised demons, and discovered why skeletons need to stay in their damned closet.
I know that love can find a way. But sometimes it's better if it doesn't.
Sometimes saying something too often causes just as much damage as not saying it enough. Or at all.
To that end, it is with only regret that there have been a great many things that I haven't said. And with a sadness that there are things that some of you need to hear from me, and I will never be able to say. Some things can't be said. Some shouldn't be said.
Some of you know who you are. Some of you have no idea and are blissfully ignorant.
Free speech, and yet it comes with such a heavy cost at times.
So let's talk about cost.
The cost of struggle.
At times, it was working 14-16 hour days in the desert. Only to come back, be unemployed, and realize that a real struggle is trying to prove yourself to a society that doesn't care about any of your previous accomplishments.
To quote Yoda of all people, do or do not, there is no try. And I've found that 99% of the time, it doesn't matter how you try. If you're not doing, you're worth nothing.
Sure, there will be plenty who patronize you, and state that they know you're doing your best. And so quickly treat you as if you're doing your worse. Your weekly accomplishments completely overshadowed by a minor day to day failure.
It's hypocritical, but it's accepted. If one person can succeed, everyone should be able to succeed, is the thought. Pity that it doesn't work that way. And it's a pity that some people are so quick to judge that they can't appreciate the merits of others.
But that's the freedom of living. To be able to love someone from a distance, and treat those closest to you like filth. "I love you' becomes a sentiment of "I'll say I love you, so that you take more of my abuse, and it sounds like I'm not the bad guy."
And as long as you put up with it, everything is a-ok.
It's made me a cynic, truly. Those who have known me for this specific decade know that I was once a very forgiving and relatively passive person. There was little harm that could be done to me.
Now, I find myself reluctant to give people even a second chance. Even ONE chance is usually too much.
Life is too short for negotiations, compromising, forgiving over and over....
When you break something in your house enough, you throw it away. And if it was something worth replacing, you get another one. But the more broken things you hold onto, the more piles of crap you accumulate.
So, I've gone to college. Dropped out. Joined the Marines. Went to war. Tried truck driving. Been unemployed. Gotten to the point of my house going into foreclosure. And while I'm not back on my feet yet, I'm digging sideways, instead of down.
It's interesting to go from being able to buy more or less whatever you like, to skipping meals for a few days, because you have no change.
What have I learned after all this?
At the start of the ten years, someone told me that I was going to be the one to make a difference in the world. Some unknown but vital difference. I doubt they even remember that they said it.
Those words have rattled between my ears ever since. And what I've discovered about the world is this:
One person might have the power to change the world. But it doesn't mean they should. And it doesn't mean that the world will even care or notice.
The best you can hope for, is to change the world of individuals. And if fate is kind to you, they will return the favor with selfishness and abuse.
But at least you accomplished what you intended to do. There is some solace to be found in that.
People will come and go in your life. Some will stay when you wish them to leave. They'll claw at your door as you try to lock it. Some will walk away as you claw at the sky, crying for them to stay.
So is it worth the effort? You'd think by now, I'd be some sort of amateur expert on the matter. I'm not.
People are people. You can't expect them to be anything else, and to hope for them to be more will leave you disappointed. Everyone has the ability of great love and compassion, as well as heartlessness and deceit.
If there is any 100% guarantee, it's that any person you come across will eventually display all of those traits, and a variety in between.
I'm not saddened, and not particularly in to much of a melancholy. Every experience teaches you, and life is merely a learning curve until death cuts you down.
This is no cry for attention, plea for help, or really anything more than my assessment of the last decade. No tears over here, just a pensive moment or two.
What's in store for the next ten years, one might wonder. I don't wonder. I'd be highly shocked if it was anything but more of the same.
For a while, I thought I was growing old, and simply seeing the world in a new light. I believe the reverse is more true. I've attempted to stay as constant as possible, and the world simply ages around me. People expect more of me, because I'm older. There's more responsibility, because I'm older.....but my hopes and dreams of 19 are the same as they are now at 29.
I like drinking hot chocolate and finding cartoons on tv. I like reading comics, while curled up under a blanket.
I like the feel of a brisk and cold night, because it reminds me of snow.
Perhaps, then, my hopes and dreams are the same as they were when I was 9.
I hope for a bright future. An understanding world. Someone who will accept me as I am. Peace in the world is too hard to find, but peace of mind would be alright with me. I want a tree fort in my back yard that I can hide in when the world is unkind.
I want to know that the cereal I'm eating only tastes good, not that it's high in sugar, or carbs, or anything else.
It's funny that at 29, people criticize me for how I act....and yet...at 29, shouldn't I be old enough to CHOOSE how I want to act? If not, do I have to wait to 39? 49? At which point will my life be my own to dictate?
If I have any advice at this point, it's to be true to yourself. There are very few out there who will genuinely accept you for that. If you manage to find them, you are blessed. Most of us will have to settle for the next best thing: Those who will accept you once you've changed a little for them.
I was told once that I will live to around the age of 50. I don't have any reason to doubt that, any more than I do people who tell me that things will turn around, or that things work out.
So given that I have 20 years to go; I suppose I do wonder if I will be 49, wishing I was still 9, and coming to the end of my life.
I'm sorry, children, I'm not the savior. I'm just a child.
Bah. You're still reading. Oh well.
Ever get to the point in your life where you realize you've outlived your own story? It strikes me that I'm either at that point, or have recently passed it without even the slightest of indication.
Ten years ago, there were a series of events, statements, and other factors that lead me to really open my eyes to the world.
And now that those ten years are at a closure, allow me to express what I have seen.
First, let's talk about life.
Life plods on, really without caring about anyone it tramples over in it's path, and seems to inexplicably raise a select few above the torrent without any specific design or intent.
I've seen new life, and old death. I've seen life exist and persist when it had no reason to, and I've seen death hovering quietly around those who had no reason to fear it.
I've managed to find myself on both sides of the barrel of a gun. And I've found myself wielding a gun to my own head.
I've raised my fist in anger possibly as often as I have raised my fists in fear.
I'm guilty of deaths I had no previous intent to cause, and I've been found innocent of a death that I intended to carry out someday.
I've managed to be called a murderer and a hero within the same ten minutes. With equal amounts of conviction and sincerity.
I've watched mortal enemies fade into the background, disappear, or perish altogether.
It's a very odd thing to hold hate, contempt and angst in your heart for so long, only to discover the target of all that malice is no longer present to be targeted.
What then, do you do with those feelings? Do you simply acknowledge defeat, and accept it? Do you wonder what to do with the sudden holes inside? If a person is a balance inside, equal parts negative and positive, what is meant to happen when the negative is....negated?
Feel relieved? Feel empty? Confused? Overjoyed and content?
I've let my closest friends...almost family..... become strangers. I've let strangers become closer to me than I've let loved ones.
I've lied, deceived, cheated, mislead, and all other forms of subterfuge. For my own gains, for other's gains, and for no gains at all.
And I've held back the truth, out of fear, respect, protection, love, and simple apathy.
And on that note, let's talk about love.
As most people have, I've managed to find love, lose love, rediscover love, and misunderstand love.
I've been engaged twice, married once, divorced once. Not bad for 10 years. Could have done worse. Could have done better.
I've had my heart ruined, and I've done my share of ruining.
I've chased down ghosts, exorcised demons, and discovered why skeletons need to stay in their damned closet.
I know that love can find a way. But sometimes it's better if it doesn't.
Sometimes saying something too often causes just as much damage as not saying it enough. Or at all.
To that end, it is with only regret that there have been a great many things that I haven't said. And with a sadness that there are things that some of you need to hear from me, and I will never be able to say. Some things can't be said. Some shouldn't be said.
Some of you know who you are. Some of you have no idea and are blissfully ignorant.
Free speech, and yet it comes with such a heavy cost at times.
So let's talk about cost.
The cost of struggle.
At times, it was working 14-16 hour days in the desert. Only to come back, be unemployed, and realize that a real struggle is trying to prove yourself to a society that doesn't care about any of your previous accomplishments.
To quote Yoda of all people, do or do not, there is no try. And I've found that 99% of the time, it doesn't matter how you try. If you're not doing, you're worth nothing.
Sure, there will be plenty who patronize you, and state that they know you're doing your best. And so quickly treat you as if you're doing your worse. Your weekly accomplishments completely overshadowed by a minor day to day failure.
It's hypocritical, but it's accepted. If one person can succeed, everyone should be able to succeed, is the thought. Pity that it doesn't work that way. And it's a pity that some people are so quick to judge that they can't appreciate the merits of others.
But that's the freedom of living. To be able to love someone from a distance, and treat those closest to you like filth. "I love you' becomes a sentiment of "I'll say I love you, so that you take more of my abuse, and it sounds like I'm not the bad guy."
And as long as you put up with it, everything is a-ok.
It's made me a cynic, truly. Those who have known me for this specific decade know that I was once a very forgiving and relatively passive person. There was little harm that could be done to me.
Now, I find myself reluctant to give people even a second chance. Even ONE chance is usually too much.
Life is too short for negotiations, compromising, forgiving over and over....
When you break something in your house enough, you throw it away. And if it was something worth replacing, you get another one. But the more broken things you hold onto, the more piles of crap you accumulate.
So, I've gone to college. Dropped out. Joined the Marines. Went to war. Tried truck driving. Been unemployed. Gotten to the point of my house going into foreclosure. And while I'm not back on my feet yet, I'm digging sideways, instead of down.
It's interesting to go from being able to buy more or less whatever you like, to skipping meals for a few days, because you have no change.
What have I learned after all this?
At the start of the ten years, someone told me that I was going to be the one to make a difference in the world. Some unknown but vital difference. I doubt they even remember that they said it.
Those words have rattled between my ears ever since. And what I've discovered about the world is this:
One person might have the power to change the world. But it doesn't mean they should. And it doesn't mean that the world will even care or notice.
The best you can hope for, is to change the world of individuals. And if fate is kind to you, they will return the favor with selfishness and abuse.
But at least you accomplished what you intended to do. There is some solace to be found in that.
People will come and go in your life. Some will stay when you wish them to leave. They'll claw at your door as you try to lock it. Some will walk away as you claw at the sky, crying for them to stay.
So is it worth the effort? You'd think by now, I'd be some sort of amateur expert on the matter. I'm not.
People are people. You can't expect them to be anything else, and to hope for them to be more will leave you disappointed. Everyone has the ability of great love and compassion, as well as heartlessness and deceit.
If there is any 100% guarantee, it's that any person you come across will eventually display all of those traits, and a variety in between.
I'm not saddened, and not particularly in to much of a melancholy. Every experience teaches you, and life is merely a learning curve until death cuts you down.
This is no cry for attention, plea for help, or really anything more than my assessment of the last decade. No tears over here, just a pensive moment or two.
What's in store for the next ten years, one might wonder. I don't wonder. I'd be highly shocked if it was anything but more of the same.
For a while, I thought I was growing old, and simply seeing the world in a new light. I believe the reverse is more true. I've attempted to stay as constant as possible, and the world simply ages around me. People expect more of me, because I'm older. There's more responsibility, because I'm older.....but my hopes and dreams of 19 are the same as they are now at 29.
I like drinking hot chocolate and finding cartoons on tv. I like reading comics, while curled up under a blanket.
I like the feel of a brisk and cold night, because it reminds me of snow.
Perhaps, then, my hopes and dreams are the same as they were when I was 9.
I hope for a bright future. An understanding world. Someone who will accept me as I am. Peace in the world is too hard to find, but peace of mind would be alright with me. I want a tree fort in my back yard that I can hide in when the world is unkind.
I want to know that the cereal I'm eating only tastes good, not that it's high in sugar, or carbs, or anything else.
It's funny that at 29, people criticize me for how I act....and yet...at 29, shouldn't I be old enough to CHOOSE how I want to act? If not, do I have to wait to 39? 49? At which point will my life be my own to dictate?
If I have any advice at this point, it's to be true to yourself. There are very few out there who will genuinely accept you for that. If you manage to find them, you are blessed. Most of us will have to settle for the next best thing: Those who will accept you once you've changed a little for them.
I was told once that I will live to around the age of 50. I don't have any reason to doubt that, any more than I do people who tell me that things will turn around, or that things work out.
So given that I have 20 years to go; I suppose I do wonder if I will be 49, wishing I was still 9, and coming to the end of my life.
I'm sorry, children, I'm not the savior. I'm just a child.