(no subject)
It seems my impending relocation to Denver has many a lost soul desperately compiling lists for me to fulfill, as though I am a vendor of humanity of sorts. To be loved, needed, used... is there a difference? Of course there is, but I believe there are times when I forget that. My new found sense of indifference and laziness leaves me lacking in the simple mastery of accepting certain truths. When somebody uses your name in a such context that it is followed with a question mark and a smile, you are reminded how much you love to be alive. You include the world in your life to keep that feeling coming back to you as often as possible.
Perhaps I have a hero complex, or maybe even a god complex to satisfy. Do the ends justify the means? If it really mattered, I'd wash the palms of my hands before I showed them to you. And yet, it does matter. No one, however, ever seems to look at my hands. Like a magician, the managing elements move too quickly and are overshadowed by wasteful hyperbole.
So I reach the point in which one asks, "Why?" And I hate it. I decided long ago that asking, "Why?" was for those that live in fear. Yes, I have fears, but I choose not live within them. I don't need to know why. Maybe I am just curious.
Now life starts to move. It moves forward, in reverse. I get an advance copy of the next chapter of my life, and I see hard work ahead. Not hard work in the sense of struggle and strife, but the hard work I see, is that of a savior, and it numbs me. Do I have anything left? Yes, plenty. I just don't care to look for it anymore, or right now. But that doesn't matter. A drowning man can not afford to wait for you to decide you don't mind getting wet again.
Perhaps I have a hero complex, or maybe even a god complex to satisfy. Do the ends justify the means? If it really mattered, I'd wash the palms of my hands before I showed them to you. And yet, it does matter. No one, however, ever seems to look at my hands. Like a magician, the managing elements move too quickly and are overshadowed by wasteful hyperbole.
So I reach the point in which one asks, "Why?" And I hate it. I decided long ago that asking, "Why?" was for those that live in fear. Yes, I have fears, but I choose not live within them. I don't need to know why. Maybe I am just curious.
Now life starts to move. It moves forward, in reverse. I get an advance copy of the next chapter of my life, and I see hard work ahead. Not hard work in the sense of struggle and strife, but the hard work I see, is that of a savior, and it numbs me. Do I have anything left? Yes, plenty. I just don't care to look for it anymore, or right now. But that doesn't matter. A drowning man can not afford to wait for you to decide you don't mind getting wet again.