Friday, December 5, 2008
Another Side Of Eden
I've posted my thoughts in a lot of places and kept them private, and in a way, I suppose you could say that they're pretty old; the last one dated back to January of this very same year - and I must say that I was awestruck when I read them - my thoughts were quite coherent back then, and I wasn't ashamed at all with what I wrote. (Usually I am - I hate admitting that I'm the author of a lot of my own works from years and years ago.)
Well, here I am, a little torn and tattered, stripped bare for the world to see once more. I've lost my ability to rhyme melodiously, write prettily, and wear my heart soulfully on my sleeve. I suppose a lot of people miss the 'old' me, though I honestly don't see how I've changed much, other than growing and maturing through the months that feel like years.
Some people call me unnerving; I pass along quickly and quietly, if I can. (Perhaps with a toss of dramatique on the side, before an un-eloquent goodbye.) I wonder if I hate the idea of stopping too long in one place - there are some I know who refuse to let their hearts stop at all. Perhaps the inability to commit is an advantage to avoid being wounded, but I know that it's a terrible road. Everyone uses someone, but to do so so blatantly is almost a crime. I resigned a long time ago not to become like that, no matter now jaded I become. Or perhaps it's because I'm a hopeless romantic when unnecessary. Hmm.
I used to think that it was only me who had the uncanny ability to lose myself by wearing the skin and partial mindset of another, but I was proven wrong a short while back. I suppose that many of us become what we once loved (or still love, for that matter). That undying influence is something we'll always live with, dream with, and wear~ and I'll say that most of us probably love it. It's pretty, envisioning that we're someone else, being in their shoes, wondering about them wondering about us~ while completely forgetting that we're losing ourselves. I lost myself a while back, until I realised that I had no personality but another's. Sometimes I wonder if I'm still losing myself.
I probably am. But in a whirlpool of dreams, nightmares, and might-have-beens.
I've noticed one thing, though, that's common amongst most people - when they're upset, angry, or at a loss, they display exactly what they are deep down inside. The poison's drawn out then, and I've seen a lot of people destroy others, or even relationships with people who meant no harm in the first place. This is one of the things I hate about love, or rather - people's reactions to love (or a lost love). They become exactly what they hate - they destroy, the way they were destroyed. They push away, the way they were pushed away. They discard, the way they were discarded.
It's a funny/bittersweet world, but I kind of like it. It's so... cyclic. It becomes hardly unpredictable after two or three cycles anymore.
I wish I could heal them all (and probably, even myself - but I struggle to remain as rational as I can be emotionally). But I can't - in the end, I watch them all fadeaway into their hate, broken hearts, and hope that I won't be on the receving end. I hate the idea of breaking away from someone who'll look back, in the future, and wish they hadn't acted accordingly.
Sometimes, I wonder if everyone wishes if they could close their hearts for a moment, if only to ease the pain.
But hey, some people do it with chocolate, some do it with hate. Such is the world.
Posted by Avery at 1:30 AM