You Can Go Home Again.

I’ve been thinking a lot over the last couple of days.

That’s always a really loaded way to start off a ramble, but it’s the truth – the last 72 hours or so have been filled with me going through my mental hard drive, trying to clean up a ton of raw data. This is a tedious process, one that has a habit of consuming me. Whenever this happens, I get lost in it, as if the rest of the world falls away, and all I have left to deal with are my own thoughts and emotions.

This is not necessarily a good thing.

Sadly, I am just naturally wired for too much introspection. It’s one thing to be self-aware, but another altogether when you start nitpicking yourself down to nothingness whenever you feel as though something is off.

I’ve been feeling pretty off for a bit now.

It’s funny to me that I can forgive other people for all kinds of heinous shit, but not myself. I’ve learned an awful lot about myself over the last few years, and during all of this learning, I have come to realize that no matter what I do or say – there will always be some kind of inner conflict that stays buried deep inside of my being.

It’s as if this conflict is some tangible thing, shifting around in me. Depending on the circumstances of the conflict, it can grow or shrink – or it can disappear for a time. But most of the time, it’s there, waiting to remind me that there will always be work to be done, and that letting myself slip into complacency is a dangerous mistake for me to make.

Reminds me of a Murakami story.

Basically, the rundown is this: I have done a lot of terrible things in this life, and I spend a lot of time trying to reconcile those terrible things in my mind. And when thinking about these terrible things, I always seem to let my heart gravitate toward wondering why people have even put up with me. I have been told many times that I am some kind of monstrosity. A man who hardly ever pays attention to the damage his actions cause to others. A man who never takes responsibility for his own emotional asshattery. A man who is dishonest with himself, according to some.

It’s not fun to hear shit like this, I assure you.

Most of the time, I am told these things through other people. For some reason, people who get too close to me have this misconception that I am not one who can be reasoned with, which might be true of the me ten or fifteen years ago(when anger was fuel and drugs were the match that lit the fires of hell), but life has beat the fuck out of me over the last few years, and really hit me in the humble spot something fierce.

I hung out the other day with a friend I had not seen in twenty years. Immediately upon seeing him in the flesh, my mind was just flooded with all the stupid shit I used to do. It was actually kind of an odd feeling, to be having a conversation in real time, while my mind was dancing around in the past, searching for anything terrible I had done to him or anyone he was/is close with.

I was really kind of taken by surprise at how natural it felt to hang out with someone from my past, considering how much of it I have tried to erase or bury under the me I have fashioned myself into since the terror of High School was finally over. And then, sitting there, I realized that most of the misgivings I have about my past are due to the fact that no emotional door has ever truly closed. The delusion I live within is my own creation. I have wasted so much time and energy hiding myself, my misappropriation of trust, my vulnerabilities.

It was really enlightening to reconnect. Maybe now that I am older and more entrenched in the me that I am in the rightfuckingnow, I wasn’t so afraid to open up and share who I was back then. I admitted to some really silly shit that you couldn’t have given me a grip of money to cop to before.

But then I realize the most important factor of all:

Fuck it.

Yes, we try to evolve. And yes, we try to clean up our Karmic Debt. But really? As self-policing semi-evolving motherfuckers, can we honestly think we’ll be able to make “amends” or play “kissyface” with everyone who has ever been hurt on our path to our own supposed enlightenment? That’s a silly notion, when you really dissect it down to the smallest molecule(which I always apt to do) – it’s not like these motherfuckers who have been in our lives even give a rat’s ass. If they did – they would have confronted us or tried to talk to us since then, right?

Not everybody is about their own evolution, you know? 95% of the population would rather swim in the muck of their own misery, because it is so much easier than admitting you’re broken and need help being put back together.

Neal Cassady, the muse for Jack Kerouac’s “Dean Moriarty” character from On The Road, had the best quote I’ve ever heard in my life about friendship:

“We all get to heaven, leaning on the arm of someone we once helped.”

And to Gumpify that – that’s pretty much all I have to say about that.

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Filed under i used to be stupid, nuggets of infinite wisdom, who is sean?

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