I never said enough…
I watched a guy this morning parallel parking his car in a space that was too small from the start. It didn’t deter him, instead, just motivated him to hit the cars behind and in front. Push them out of his way as if he had the right to park in that very spot and they didn’t. I wonder sometimes why I can’t be that selfish, that aggressive toward the rest of the world.
Time always comes back to you. The past and the decisions you make in that past. Does that mean that there really is no past because what you do then determines your future? Confusing I know.
I sit here in regression, cursing what my past has held and how much it has all affected my future. You see, years ago (and I won’t state here how many), I had an opportunity to find both myself, and my future;
regression |riˈgre sh ən|noun1 a return to a former or less developed state.• a return to an earlier stage of life or a supposed previous life, esp. through hypnosis or mental illness, or as a means of escaping present anxieties : [as adj. ] regression therapy.• a lessening of the severity of a disease or its symptoms : he seemed able to produce a regression in this disease.2 Statistics a measure of the relation between the mean value of one variable (e.g., output) and corresponding values of other variables (e.g., time and cost).
To state the obvious…Sometimes my very own inability to recognise myself as anything other than the trash you may step over in the gutter of a ghetto renders a future of regret and heartache. Maybe this type of thing is good for a poet, but what about the poets soul? Where does that stand in the moments of heartache resulting from a lack of confidence in himself?
These years ago (again I won’t say how many), I made a decision to merely accept a situation and wallow in my own pain. To turn the light off and torment myself with a desire and dream I thought I could never have. It wasn’t easy and as time has past it never got any better. I still find myself wallowing in the pain of that decision, and at the moment, it seems harsher, perhaps even more real than what it has over time.
For the sake of people, those around and close to you, and some who aren’t, you find yourself not saying enough. Not telling how it is. I did this what seems like such a long time ago. I never said enough. I wonder whether, if I viewed the world in the same way the guy in that car this morning does, if I had the same attitude toward those around me, whether I would be the happiest man in the world and I may just have found myself saying what I should have in the beginning.
Again. I never said enough. And today, it is hurting me more than ever before…
