Today, I played my guitar until my fingers couldn’t hold down a string. It’s been so long since I actually used my guitar as an emotional outlet. Since I was 12, my guitar and my music have been my fellow comrades when it comes to battling waves of depression, sadness, happiness, change — whatever. They’ve always been loyal to me. However, I’ve allowed both of them to slip from my grasps lately and today felt like seeing an old friend.
I think it was after reading my old blog that I realized the inner-change that has taken place the past two years is unacceptable and disappointing. I used to write about philosophy, I used to write poetry, hell, I used to write just to write. But lately, I have to find a reason to write.
My music, my books, my guitar and my friends used to consume my life and my thoughts; they were certain happiness. Now, the only thing that consumes my thoughts are the miserable results of my decisions. I feel sorry for myself too much and even though I take full responsibility for anything currently wrong, it doesn’t make the pity parade any quieter. In fact, the debris from it manages to find it’s way in to every crevice of my life.
It probably sounds a bit pathetic, but it’s really not. It’s just the honest truth. I think about the battle ahead of me and it seems unbearable at times, but the fact that I still have a good head on my shoulders, that I’m still trying and that I still wake up every morning hoping for the sun to shed the clouds; I know I’ll be just fine.
Those who know me best have always told me I’m stronger than I think but, naturally, I scoffed at them knowing they would never know the depths of my thoughts and errr, misery.
But, being on my own, away from everything I’ve ever known and having pretty much NO ONE, has forced me to realize that, yes, I am strong and independent and, no, it’s not conceded to believe what other people say — especially ones that care about you.
It just feels nice to find myself cast in just the shadow of my former self… the person I actually enjoyed being. I doubt I’ll ever be that same person again, but the shoes still fit and buried beneath layers of dirt and stupid decisions lies the flesh of that person.
It doesn’t matter how hard it gets, how much pride I have to lose, I don’t care how far I have to drag my dignity; no one else is going to fix any of my bullshit but me and after today, with sore fingers and a mind ready to take on any challenge; I am ready to quit taking baby steps and leap forward.
I don’t care where I land, don’t care what I crash in to, don’t care who sees me fall. I’m done with all the pettiness that I have curled up in to keep warm at night. I’d rather freeze knowing that I am 100% free of guilt and 100% free of everything that I allowed to “destroy” me.
Today, I have shed one, silky layer that felt like an 18 wheeler.