Who'll give you time?
'Who'll give you time to cry
And time to find yourself,
Somewhere on the outside?'
-'Smoke Baby'- Hawksley Workman
They've gotten under my skin. 'Round my head again. What astute words. Four year old words. Yet just recently found me. Is it really self-destructive to want a problem to solve? I propose that true self-destructive behavior leans heavily on the want to destroy the self. I wish to maintain my hold on life for as long as possible. There's no destruction in that. I want to walk along the edge with the sure knowledge that i won't allow myself to slip. It may be naive. But it is Not self-destructive.
That wanderlust lies dormant now and then. But never leaves. Everytime I successfully break the boundaries of this place. Of any place I've long frequented. I remember. I remember what part of me tries to forget. I am reminded that I never feel at home. Only comfortable once in a while. I never have a sure plan for where to go next. Opportunities spring up occasionally. Not often enough. Many times I stay until something gives. I'm always running from or to. I feel this does a great disservice to those around me. But maybe it isn't really up to them. Never has been.
The answer to his words is no one. No one gives me time but me. I'm at my own pace. I always have been. I always will be. Many cannot accept this. Some choice few do. Of them. Few rise above resentment. I don't forget people. Places. I don't forget the imprints they leave. Moving on. In mind. For me doesn't technically happen. So. Even when I physically leave. The emotional bond or scars stay with me. I can't tell you how I manage it. The sheer volume. I don't really know. I bring it out into the light. When I feel the need. The pain. Confusion. Fear. Wonder. It fades in and out. All the time. I've just come to take for granted. It's a cycle. It comes and goes. But doesn't stop. It leaves me feeling lucky. Others don't get a cycle. And a linear path can be far worse.
-T
And time to find yourself,
Somewhere on the outside?'
-'Smoke Baby'- Hawksley Workman
They've gotten under my skin. 'Round my head again. What astute words. Four year old words. Yet just recently found me. Is it really self-destructive to want a problem to solve? I propose that true self-destructive behavior leans heavily on the want to destroy the self. I wish to maintain my hold on life for as long as possible. There's no destruction in that. I want to walk along the edge with the sure knowledge that i won't allow myself to slip. It may be naive. But it is Not self-destructive.
That wanderlust lies dormant now and then. But never leaves. Everytime I successfully break the boundaries of this place. Of any place I've long frequented. I remember. I remember what part of me tries to forget. I am reminded that I never feel at home. Only comfortable once in a while. I never have a sure plan for where to go next. Opportunities spring up occasionally. Not often enough. Many times I stay until something gives. I'm always running from or to. I feel this does a great disservice to those around me. But maybe it isn't really up to them. Never has been.
The answer to his words is no one. No one gives me time but me. I'm at my own pace. I always have been. I always will be. Many cannot accept this. Some choice few do. Of them. Few rise above resentment. I don't forget people. Places. I don't forget the imprints they leave. Moving on. In mind. For me doesn't technically happen. So. Even when I physically leave. The emotional bond or scars stay with me. I can't tell you how I manage it. The sheer volume. I don't really know. I bring it out into the light. When I feel the need. The pain. Confusion. Fear. Wonder. It fades in and out. All the time. I've just come to take for granted. It's a cycle. It comes and goes. But doesn't stop. It leaves me feeling lucky. Others don't get a cycle. And a linear path can be far worse.
-T