It's such a mess, life, poignant and beautiful. Everyone with divergent expectations, dreams, hopes, with so many jagged edges to so intricate a puzzle - are there any neat connections? I know you feel it, the longing, and mine's another, and hers and his and theirs, like a mess of tangled tentacles in a mosh pit of jellyfish. Infinite monkeys with typewriters never produce hamlet, countless kittens with yarn never knit blankets. A billion humans, why, we're the worse by half.
It's that moment on the road, watching the tire burst and the oncoming vehicle swerve, that eternal second that never-always ends. You've poised your entire self upon a spinning dime, and the whirling wind has already decided on a deterministic destiny, heads or tails. It is no fifty-fifty, but a hundred-zero, always, but you are blind, and rushing into the other lane. Dreams do not make you invincible, only vulnerable, but you must strive for them anyway.
And I sit, contemplating whether I should even try to untie the knots of poisoned tentacles, or simply snip the tips and truncate so many hopes like unlucky strings at the end of the roll. It would be easy if all these were mine, but no decision is an island, either, but a continent of seaweed struggling to stay afloat, and intertwined.
Will you hate me with a knee-jerk response, once this cruelty strikes your spine?
Sometimes, you must drive off a cliff to protect another's life. I heard today a person say that you must always look out first for the needs of numero uno. No, I think. In the end I believe my needs are the final ones in line, in a stack ever increasing in size.
It's a sisyphean task, and one I'd never ask you for. I love, and it's not enough, I fight, and fall further behind, I care, and who knows - because the eyes are always turned aside. I'm Boromir - how desperately I want to provide restoration and healing for all I know and love, and how foolish I have become in my plight. Sometimes, you must let the onus pass.
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