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Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Scattered

And the fragments of china scattered and buried on our mountain are like the broken and scattered memories buried in the mountain of my mind.  No matter how hard I try, I cannot forget.  No matter how much time goes on, I still feel like I cheated fate, like I took the wrong road.  I am not living the time line, the very life I was intended to live.  Neither is he, I believe.

With a quick knot on a miniature hangman’s noose he tied the knot of his Destiny, and of mine.  Who could have known it would be the knot that hanged me?  We had a superficial sense of security then.  I should have known it would not last.  I should have known it was not real.  How naive.  How ignorant.

Isn’t that what I want, though?  The innocence of childhood?  The purity of that innocent love now lost forever in the hour glass of eternity, buried among the scattered shards of memory?  Lost.  Gone.

Two children, dead, turned to horrid monsters of reality once dreaded and feared.  We have become what we once hated so much.  We are who we swore we’d never be.

Now our tainted souls roam pointlessly through a maze with no beginning, nor any end.  We face challenges in order to survive and feign growth, yet we know that truly, our growing is done for we are dead and the dead do not grow.  Fester.  Swell.  Rot.  Decay.  Never, no never grow.

Even the whitest, purest love must rust.  The sweetest fruit is first to rot.  The most delicate china the first to break.  Then, there is nothing.

Gone.
Lost.
Forever.

“It’s amazing what you can find in an old can.” LAF
March 19, 2005

This horrible sense of living the wrong life, walking the wrong time line, taking the wrong path has been with me for so long, I have grown numb to it.  Still, it’s always there, lurking in the background.  The connection, the love, the love I thought had turned to dust, well, it still lingers.  Changed.  Faded.  Dimmed.  But still it is there, burning underneath it all. 

In many respects, things have turned out far better than I could have ever hoped for.  It’s just… not quite right.  It’s like living a facade; like putting on someone else’s coat and hat and pretending their identity.  Why can’t other people see through me?  Why don’t others call me out on my lie?  Can’t they see this coat and hat don’t fit?  Isn’t it obvious I’m a pretender?  Don’t they know I’m not who I am supposed to be?

There’s never been a solid answer to this feeling that I’m a big, fat fraud who will one day be discovered and called out on my huge (if unintentional?) trick.  Sometimes, I just go about confidently in this role, figuring that if I haven’t been caught yet, maybe no one ever really will notice.  Other times, especially during the _dark times_, I find myself paranoid and worried that all this will be stripped from me and I will be left even more lost and utterly alone when people realize this isn’t who I really am.  If this isn’t who I’m supposed to be, though, who _am_ I supposed to be?  Who should be walking in my shoes right now?  Ugh.

There is hope.  There is always hope.

I still believe in fairy tales.  I still believe in magic and fairies and hermits who live under rocks, and ghosts and spirits and I know, I know without any doubt that the trees breathe and whisper secrets in the quiet of the night.  Through it all, even in the darkest hour, I still have hope, I still want to clap my hands and keep the magic alive.  Maybe I can’t go back to Neverland, but I still remember.

Posted by Liberty on 12/06 at 06:08 AM
Posted under: 31 Days

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