2001-10-16 | 11:31 p.m.

I used to do this thing in school, when I was much much younger. I used to slap my face while I was looking in the mirror. I'd draw my hand back and slap real hard, sometimes leaving the faint impression of my hand on my cheek. I always needed to check out how I felt. Make sure that all my bases were covered. Never had any mess up's that I would have to clean up. And I got good at this, so good that sometimes I believe I forget to feel.

And it's because I'm always running. I know it is. I'm always chasing the next big thing, or the next best thing. I never stay still because of the fear factor. (But let's face it, if you stayed still then you would probably be missing something.) This past weekend I've been wondering if there's only one choice and all the others are wrong. If there are signs along the way to pay attention to and I simply never looked hard enough. I suppose we are all judging ourselves to some degree, or maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the only one finding myself screaming on the inside once again.

It's like I was searching for something for myself and then all of sudden this rain washed over me and I am left all wet and looking around. Wondering what to do next. To dry myself, or wait for the next storm to come ripping through this town. To try to build the garlands of flowers I had around my head once again. Believe in peace and good karma and what goes around comes around like I was before, or simply decide it's not worth going the distance. It's not worth being happy when shit can get torn down again.

But there's a reason why I changed the first time. I couldn't live with myself at all before, and then I changed and I began to see what I never saw. I chose to step outside of the box and smile and greet everyone with good karma so that eventually it would be continued onwards and returned to me in one of those special ways it had before. Because even though for a time I believed evil would prevail I know for certain that it won't now. It may fight a hearty battle but in the end good will overcome whatever is thrown it's way. I have a feeling it has always been this way and nothing can change it.

And so I emerge from my restless sleep that has fenced me in for the past month and close my eyes and dare to dream. Dream of what's to come. The good, only the good. There's enough bad traffic out there, I don't need to turn my head everytime to see it anymore. I've been bruised in more ways than one, and so now, maybe it's time to cleanse myself. Make sure that even thought I was tattered I can clean up really well and dull my scars. Toughen myself up again, but make sure the hard skin doesn't crawl around my heart. It's been there before and it's harder breaking it down rather than keeping it at bay.

After all noting is impossible.



p r e v i o u s // n e x t