Bobbing for Apples
I lost it around September of 2004.
I lost who I was. I lost what I meant to myself. What my expectations were; what my rules were.
As an adult I have to be responsible and define those rules for myself. I can't let others define my morals, beliefs, opinions, actions, and feelings.
I don't think its right to have sex with random people. I just don't. It's not who I am. I've tried it. It may be for others, and that's perfectly fine.
The only reason I would ever go against this is for vengeance.
I am a vengeful, vindictive, and jealous person. I lose sight of what I am when I feel these things. I have nursed and loved those poisonous emotions the same way an alcoholic would tend to his garden of rum and coke.
I have left and forgotten all but the last shreds of who I am as a person. I have lost my faith in people, in relationships. In God. I know longer find solace and comfort in the pages of my first Bible. I know longer find joy in a promise from a friend, or serenity in the look from a loved one.
I am lost in a sea of 1,000 choices, each with its own responsibilities, joys, and consequences. Most of them are the choices of others, the ones they would choose for me. They are all bobbing along like red and delicious apples. But, out there somewhere alongside the tempting and tumultuous fruit of choices lies that singular green apple. It has no flaws, its skin crisp and ripe, sweet and forgiving; and full of acceptance. It is the apple that is self dignity, self respect, and self love.
I reach out, drowning and floating among the choices of others. They are seething in a sea of red. Slap! My hand hits the water and grasps that beacon of compassion. I eat and am satiated for the first time in 16 months. I have starved myself of who I am, and instead have been worried with the populous and majority. The majority is not always right. The privileged few who realize this may suffer the injustice and inequity of ostracism, but will know the sweet and overwhelming truth of self. And, even fewer, may find an all encompassing love to accompany them along their journey of self knowledge. God.
Will I ever regain the innocence and naiveté that once buoyed my spirits? Perhaps not. But, if I am lucky, and work for my cause and for what I believe in, I may just find something even better.
I lost who I was. I lost what I meant to myself. What my expectations were; what my rules were.
As an adult I have to be responsible and define those rules for myself. I can't let others define my morals, beliefs, opinions, actions, and feelings.
I don't think its right to have sex with random people. I just don't. It's not who I am. I've tried it. It may be for others, and that's perfectly fine.
The only reason I would ever go against this is for vengeance.
I am a vengeful, vindictive, and jealous person. I lose sight of what I am when I feel these things. I have nursed and loved those poisonous emotions the same way an alcoholic would tend to his garden of rum and coke.
I have left and forgotten all but the last shreds of who I am as a person. I have lost my faith in people, in relationships. In God. I know longer find solace and comfort in the pages of my first Bible. I know longer find joy in a promise from a friend, or serenity in the look from a loved one.
I am lost in a sea of 1,000 choices, each with its own responsibilities, joys, and consequences. Most of them are the choices of others, the ones they would choose for me. They are all bobbing along like red and delicious apples. But, out there somewhere alongside the tempting and tumultuous fruit of choices lies that singular green apple. It has no flaws, its skin crisp and ripe, sweet and forgiving; and full of acceptance. It is the apple that is self dignity, self respect, and self love.
I reach out, drowning and floating among the choices of others. They are seething in a sea of red. Slap! My hand hits the water and grasps that beacon of compassion. I eat and am satiated for the first time in 16 months. I have starved myself of who I am, and instead have been worried with the populous and majority. The majority is not always right. The privileged few who realize this may suffer the injustice and inequity of ostracism, but will know the sweet and overwhelming truth of self. And, even fewer, may find an all encompassing love to accompany them along their journey of self knowledge. God.
Will I ever regain the innocence and naiveté that once buoyed my spirits? Perhaps not. But, if I am lucky, and work for my cause and for what I believe in, I may just find something even better.