There are times when we feel as if we can really understand ourselves, far past the point of contradictions and the strong belief that we have a limited sense of self, constricting a personality, now limited to a certain sense of reality; imagination now a poor joke, a small laugh in the corner of society. Of course, more often than naught, we feel the opposite; our understanding is very limited, sometimes nonexistent or at least very, residually small. Sense of self is best described as scattered. When do we know who we are and what we truly want?
People very often say “what am I doing, how did I get here, what is it I’m looking for?”
(Was it you?)
People place upon their tongues the most unbalanced of words, playing with the sounds about their lips and finally letting thought become lost words in the open air. Do we say what we feel, or do we say what we want to feel?
“I love you.”
(What is love anyway?)
“Yes, of course I want to be with you.”
(Why am I fighting for something I’m not sure I really want?)
She no longer was my Goddess of the day. She was my every day; a constant, never changing force.
“Ah, so she is no longer your goddess?”
(I didn’t mean it like that…)
“You only fight for her because you feel obligated too?”
(I don’t want to think of it as a duty…)
My self-conscience has dwindled with time. Since when do I question what I do? Since when did others gain the right to question what I do? We all question everybody, anybody we can.
“I don’t know how to explain this to you.”
(No, you never could explain it to yourself.)
“Crying only makes matters worse.”
(Such a cold truth, yet you try to say it with such delicacy)
“Can we still be friends?”
(You want to hold her, but you know you can’t)
If this world were perfect, then I would not need to think. If this world were perfect, I would not need to ever worry. If this world were perfect, this pain would not exist; this regret would not exist.
(Can you regret what hasn’t happened yet?)
Plans, schemes, control, demand, obligation, separation, distance, longing, love and lost love. Can I really be sure you are the one? Can’t someone in the ever judging, ever watching world that we now live in tell me the signs so that I won’t have this deep feeling of remorse in my gut just for thinking about a different path?
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Do you believe in me?”
(I couldn’t say…)
“Do you believe in yourself?”
“Ask me again why we started this thing.”
What is it you said to me when this all begin? You cannot remember, but neither can I. Can anyone remember the first words spoken, the first words to fall from their mouths?
(Her voice was gentle.)
What do we say now? Was it all for the best; well of course it was. I don’t understand, so I am average. The average person will never understand. Understanding is no longer a necessity, but I strong ambition. You hope for it, fight for it, but the way things are, you no longer need reasons for anything, anymore.
“I don’t need to explain things to you.”
(You can’t explain things)
You feel, but you do not understand what it is you feel. You have forgotten what it feels like.
(No, you never really knew did you?)
Saying such things is easy when you think about it. Perhaps I only wished to feel this. Perhaps I only wished to understand this. O well, we were never meant to understand this.
“Do you even care?”
(More than you will ever know.)
“Why has it come down to this?”
(I wish it hadn’t… didn’t I?)
This world can be lonely. You know the pain of being alone. Are you willing to sacrifice your feelings not to feel alone? Does anyone know what I should do? Is true love just accepting that you may not find something better? I thought I felt content; it was enough. Now I’m not sure I can ever feel content. We just don’t get it. Is love a joke or a play on words? How do you feel what you cannot understand?
“I like you.”
(Wow, she’s cute)
Do you really love anyone?
My first bold answer. Even though I do not understand it, even though I may ridicule it, even though it may cause me pain, heartache, I still at the very least know the feeling of love. We still know the feeling of love. It is a mystery, which adds to the thrill of perhaps finding love.
“Fix it then.”
(Can you tell her no?)
“Fix it then.”
(How can I fix it with no tools?)
“Fix it then.”
(Know this, I did love you.)
Shattered is too harsh, broken to cold; a subtle change. Not forced, just slightly, gently pushed into a corner. It’s not that hard of a choice, it’s the fact that no one will understand. Understanding is a rare event, a solar eclipse. We will understand only when the world is at its worst, its best, and no in-betweens. You left for a change, and still you pushed that change away.
You can never fix it.
(You never wanted to, did you?)
“I don’t know…”
(Warm her up)
(Be her friend)
(Hold her tight)
“I want to cry.”
(Be her crying shoulder)
“Just leave me alone.”
(Stay with her)
“You don’t love me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Leave me alone.”
(Stay with me)
“You were the one who wanted to leave.”
(I know, I can’t explain it)
“Just get out.”
(It’s for the best)
“Let me go.”
(Watch her fly)
“Was that the right choice?”
(I hope so)
(Try to understand)
“Was I right?”
(Were you wrong?)
(There is still time)
“Can you understand now?”