Visiting again? How disappointing. I saw you stagger through the door, searching for old friends amid the ruins of a mirage you never quite understood. Nothing here but broken floorboard planks and the nervous rats scurrying underneath. That old neon sign was shut down long ago, bills never paid. A man in a suit came by and smashed it with a sledge hammer, saying something about brightness paying a price. You want to laugh and escape certain cold questions which have answers deplorable – and rhetorical – this life can sometimes be painful? Good people will often suffer? It burnt upon first consideration, soon replaced by numbness. You began projecting your life unto violent paradox, losing sight of your gifts and opportunities. Hey, this isn’t admonishment, hardly… it’s encouragement. We all make mistakes. Without them, nobody could learn. But there are no maps here. Yet you come back. You loved this bar. You entered with fake identification, pretending to be somebody else. You liked the intoxicated stranger who inevitably inhabited your body. Your troubled mind became a fading light, insanity embraced, realism replaced. I know; the lies start feeling safe. You can blame, you can objectify, you can idolize, you can falsify, you can patronize. You fancied yourself a libertine, travelling in circles, preaching about how people should never preach, sermonizing chaos. Your emotions have run wild. We all have a bridge to cross, toward a mysterious forest where ideas and perceptions are recalibrated. Those woods have been defined by myth and are shrouded in mist. We can look back instead of stepping forward. After all, it’s easier watching the movie, opposed to playing protagonist. You will remember the past. It can be helpful. But sorry, you can’t live here — Especially without company. I can’t kick you out. But there’s the door. Just past where the goddess used to wait for her prince.
February 22, 2011
Series of Blogs: We are Past