I made a jump today. And I’m not afraid. I was, but I’m not anymore. I won’t be fearful for the rest of my life.
I don’t go for all that bullshit internet preaching that if it’s meant for you, it won’t pass you up. If it’s meant to be, it will be. What you deserve will come to you…bullshit. Even those saps who won the Publisher’s Clearing House sitting on their ass back in the day, still entered the contest.
You think you want someone on the Front Lines with you…then get to the fucking Front Line. Show up. If you aren’t willing to go there, don’t complain when you don’t get a medal of honor. And don’t ever expect to win the battle. Or expect that there won’t be another. And another.
Relationships aren’t these pliable apparitions that appear to us out of the dust. Because we deserved it. Because it was meant to be. All while we do nothing. All while we sit behind a wall claiming hurt and villainizing others. These things don’t fall in our laps. They don’t. It’s a myth that will walk away from you. These things don’t just happen. It looks like it. It feels like it. It would be nice. But they don’t. You show up. If it’s what you want, you meet it where it is, and do the fucking work. Just telling everyone else to is merely a dictatorship. Which is a fragile empire at best. It won’t last long.
I’ve been a witness to fate twice in my life. But, make no mistake, there was a hell of a lot of work and pain that followed. Both long term, but not forever. It doesn’t detract from the beauty of either instance. But we did the work and went into battle willingly. There were scars and rewards. It was no easy road paved to some imaginary destiny that I was waiting around for. It was bumpy and we had to work to smooth it out in the end. Things end. But, I’ve never before experienced something quite like this. A hurt so ugly that hangs on to me no matter how I try to rise above it. No matter the changes I make. No matter how hard I fight for improvements. Closest comparison I could make is alcoholism. Which I suppose has more similarities to love than I would ever admit.
The desperation. Selfish wants. Disregard for your own well being and responsibilities. Out of body after out of body. Depresses the absolute shit out of you, and soothes you at the same time. Makes you feel like you’d never be happier. But you know when that fades, it’s going to be the worst thing you have ever felt. So you want more. Desperation. And completely willing idiocy. A chemical need that can’t be helped. You want to watch your life fall apart after everyone has given up on you, start drinking. Or fall in ‘love’.
I gave up one without much trouble at all. Because I’m not stupid. The other one stays with me, because I am.
I’m willing to keep being stupid as hell, but I am not afraid to keep showing up. Or to do the work. No fucking way. And, as of right now, I feel great. Which is a hell of a lot more than I could have imagined for myself a few months ago.