note: whoops. forgot to hit the ‘post’ button yesterday and this wound up being a draft. bleh.
the dictionary defines ‘wistful’ as being the state of longing or of thinking; desirous or introspective, respectively. as someone who is often wistful, both connotations, i’m sitting here chuckling about how one word can be both ends of the spectrum at the same time.
most often, i am wistful(longing) and only sometimes am i wistful(thinking). more of my time than i like, wish, or approve is spent longing for things i’ve not had. or had and lost. or once got close to and feel like i’ve missed ever since. it’s silly really, only it’s not to me. i’ve got a split mind on it. go figure. hah.
you might consider this post ‘me wrestling with myself, trying to come to grips with things, trying to loosen my grip on things, and everything inbetween. which, of course, simply means ‘there she goes again’, doesn’t it? (chuckle)
there is a certain relief/release to just writing this all down. gets it out of my head. sometimes. most times, actually. catharsis, purging, venting, whatever you want to call it. if i hold it inside me, i will explode. or start looking for something to quietly, non-verbally destroy. trust me, it’s better that i write it down.
i’m all over the map today. just look at the order of these thoughts (none). hah. no matter. as you know if you read here, i do not edit either. what i think is what you get. you poor soul. =/
anyway…
i am too often wistful(longing) and i haven’t an iota of what the hell to do about it. obviously were i capable of ‘just changing’, i would do so. even as i nod and grit my teeth and say, ‘yes, you pedantic fuck, i KNOW that is entirely possible even as i know i cannot manage it in relation to this. don’t fucking remind me, i feel shit enough as it is, m’kay?’
yeah, i could jump out of a plane too, but i’m not likely to do it because i’m scared shitless of the feeling of splatting on the ground.
sometimes, the thought of how much of my life is spent cowering in fear really depresses me. the amusing part is, most people, reading that, would laugh their ass off…. or assume i don’t mean it.
no, i’m not afraid of the things you or most people are…. you likely don’t consider me fearful. most likely you consider me fearless. and in many, many ways, you’re right, i am. but there are a quiet few that i never talk about and whenever anyone else does, i’m the one always waving my hands so i can point them somewhere else. and in those quiet few places, i kneel in the corner and shudder and hope no one notices just like anyone else would.
because i know what people do when they find your soft spots. they hurt them. then they laugh.
most times, i’m wistful for feeling the weight of impermanence. but it’s only a weight because i’m still trying to deny that it is as it is. mea culpa.
most times, i’m wistful for feeling as if i am never going to have any of the ‘normal’ things i see so many around me enjoying in life. but it’s only hard because i have an expectation that i should have them. mea culpa.
most times, i’m wistful because i know i’ve gone long enough without any of it that were any of it to suddenly show up, i’d probably just slaughter it out of fear that embracing it would only fail and the surety that i could not live with having or finding it just to be too faulty and flawed and horrid to treat it properly.
how’s that for honest? yeah, i’m walking wounded. have been for a long time. that makes me wistful, too.
mea culpa. mea maxima culpa.
the buddhists say, ‘abandon all hope of fruition.’ it means you can only really be happy when you learn how not to expect things. i’ve been saying that all my life and i really do mean it, only i’m not so good at doing more than saying it just yet. i am in some small areas. not many.
i told someone the other day that i’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than to find someone and lose them for my own foolish humanity. i’m not sure i meant it, but i meant it in that moment. but i guess that just does show what a fool i am. (chuckle)
i record stuff like this so i don’t forget it. also to record slivers of insight when i have them. also to keep my pride/ego in check. this is real good for managing that, trust me. =/
all said, still, i am wistful. and it occurs to me that the thing i am missing most is very likely not a thing anyone ever has beyond the sense of it as a possibility. it would be entirely too ironic for me to spend the rest of my life being wistful for a thing impossible to have. kind of like how i spend all my life being sad and sorrowful for how the world cannot be other than as it is.
times like this, i realize…. i really have so very far to go. (sigh) yeah, that makes me wistful, too.