Waking From A Dream; That Old Familiar Feeling

Seldom do we come across moments in your life when a single incident can launch you from a murky wallowing confusion into the clarity of a piercing darkness. It's like flying upwards into a hole. You feel certain of your movement and clear of your intentions, but you can't be sure of your destination. For that matter, you never were sure of it. In flight, before the hole, you find a confidence and strength you never knew you had -- the pieces are in place, the moves are set and you think you're ready. And just when you enter the hole, that dreaded phantom whispers a curdling beat through your heart: are you sure?

Genius of the hole: the moment you step in you don't stop falling, no matter what you do and how long and hard you try to climb out. Like a bullet lodged in your mind, slowly spinning and grinding its way through yout synapses, the hole doesn't take a generous bite of your enegy but drains you slowly instead, one crimson drop at a time.

There's probably a timebomb ticking in our heads. At least I'm sure that there's one in mine. The trigger is under someone's finger, waiting and ready to perform its deadly assignment. Regardless of its intention, the trigger was never at fault, even if it were responsible for setting that bomb off. For that matter, the finger on the trigger couldn't be held entirely responsible for it. Like a set of steel rings linked up to one another end to end, these isolated factors link up in their weary burden, going round and round. Round and round, back to you. You were responsible. You were always responsible; and by that understanding, you were also irresponsible.

There are no happy endings in sacrifices. Who truely knows what price people pay for the outcomes we see? Who truely knows how it feels to feel trapped, helpless and wanting? When has there been a cost that really "didn't matter"?

I had jumped on the chances I had to search for answers, answers to the questions that I had asked. People read my commitment as confusion, and perceived my search as an obsession. It might have been, if I didn't know what I was doing. It might have seemed so because of my inadequate communication. Conversely, it would have been equally likely that my exisitence was a complicated product of your own consciousness and circumstantial conditions.

This isn't the first time, but wont' be a last time such a transaction has befallen me. There are no simple situations, at least none that my eyes can see. I wish I were wiser. And more patient. Are there simple answers? Perhaps simple ideals more than simple answers.

It was supposed to be simple.

It still is. We're just a few steps away. Cummon kid, think!



JKLM