"What I mean to say is,"
"What I've been trying to tell you..."
"Well, frankly, I just can't find the words."
"When was my last attempt? I'm not sure."
"It's been awhile, I can tell you that..."
[pause]
"No, no one has looked after me in a long time. Should they have?"
"Who would care enough?"
[lengthy pause; playing with a napkin on the counter]
"Oh."
[quick sigh; leans forward to prop head in hand]
"Well, I don't know."
"When you figure it out you should let me know."
"No, I'm not trying to be sarcastic, I just mean if you hear anythin--"
"Fine."
"Sure."
"Yeah, I'm okay with it...If I wasn't I'd have told you."
"I'm sighing because I'm tired."
"Right."
[pause]
"Thanks again. Let me know how it goes."
"Yeah. Bye."
[drops phone onto counter. leaning on hands, pushes back from counter and walks away.]
A one-sided phone conversation and of course no one knows. No one knows what the point is, not even me and I wrote the darn thing. I'm sure there is some sort of meaning if someone dissected it and presented their theory to me. I might then find something enlightening about this work. Yet I don't want to know either. And sometimes I think it is this sentiment that prevents people from giving a damn about what it is that they do in life, or the people they come across each day, or the task that they've been entrusted with. For here we see a lack of compassion, or maybe too much--which is the problem in itself, don't you think? That leaves us in a sticky situation. We're unable to sympathize/empathize with others, and more significantly we don't want to. But when we do--Oh! when we do--that is when we really fall. We cannot contain ourselves. Our passion for caring for others bursts forth into the world, where it overwhelms everyone and makes the passionate man a lunatic (at least according to everyone else). And here we find frustration with the world, with those that label us, and with ourselves for being so overly passionate and caring and mindful and considerate of others that when we are treated unfairly or poorly we cannot stand it, and we often resort to anger and violence, purely out of frustration regarding our own emotions. Where does that leave us? Misunderstood? Certainly. Uncertain of ourselves, and our passion, and if it is even worth the trouble. Is it? I don't know. I can't answer that. But I will tell you that sometimes, which is more frequent now than before, I don't want to be compassionate. I don't want to be emotionally strung out over other people. I don't want to be the one they come to when their lives fall apart. I want to be that person that is....(I can't find the words to finish this sentence). Maybe that's because I don't know who I want to be. Maybe it is because as people we are always in flux, even if we refuse to acknowledge it. There it is! I'm just nervous because I change all the time. Right, it shouldn't be that easy for me to diagnose myself and my psyche all at once like that. But I am scared. I am nervous. Will this new "me" be worth it? Will I like it? I'm sure I will, otherwise I wouldn't morph into that person. But my past self--does it haunt me? I don't think it does, but I could be wrong there too. I should say "selves" because there are more than one historic versions of me. Identity, like a river, is never solid. Even if the colds of winter freeze the surface, the water moves and the life thrives beneath. For a river there is no death. Here lies immortality, for ever and ever, always in flux, never constant except in its constant change. And so in this way of growing and molting and shedding and bursting forth from my own cocoon, I could in time, achieve immortality. Whew.
*Letting that digest for a moment*
So then, in the plot of life, I don't suppose I have to care, or change, or morph, or be passionate about others and things. But if i didn't, and if I weren't, then what kind of anyone would I be? A simple human drone? People say that, "human drone," but that's impossible. We were given the ability (by someone/something...I'm not pointing any fingers here) to think for ourselves, to make choices, to see and understand death, etc. We can never be drones as long as we possess these abilities. Yet they are neglected, malnourished, ignored. And what then? Does that make a person a drone? No. I don't believe it does. They just likely haven't been taught or haven't discovered that they have these abilities, their own super powers. Not everyone will use them for good, and that is already true and I understand that. But I also know how easy it is to feel completely justified in an action while no one else understands you. That is a tricky slope in itself because then you feel alone and unable to speak about that which you would most like to share. So you do and you get confused looks, or snickers, or your friends stop talking to you. And then you wonder about yourself and you wonder about your friends and the types of people you keep around and are they worth it and here you are, back at square one.
I feel like I have tons more to say about this but in all honesty, I'm hungry and I'm going to end it here or nothing else will be accomplished today except the depraved ramblings of myself. Hooray.
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