Wednesday, January 2, 2019

Resolutions?

Not worth it.

Attempting to resolve something in a New Year is akin to calling out the universe for a gunfight. It's easy to say, "This year, I'll love more, worry less, eat better, lose weight...". Why set myself up for failure? Why would I want to drive myself crazy(ier) everytime my heart is crushed? Or feel guilty everytime I put something in my mouth?

Not for me, folks.

My life is what it is. Bumps, bruises, lessons failed, lessons learned. All of it. That's who I am.

I cannot love any more than I already do and I have no control over those I pray could love me in return. I can't make a person desire me or yearn for my company. The universe, I believe, has conspired against me where my heart is concerned.

Everything (almost) I have believed in my life thus far has blown up my heart. While it hasn't hardened me, it has made me close off parts of me that I cannot fathom ever sharing with anyone again. Ever. Sad? Maybe. True? Oh hell YES.

As hard as I pray - and for all the wishes I have tossed on the wind - there are things that are not mine to change. There are things I just cannot compete with. They have to work themselves out. If the tides were to miraculously turn and the love I have prayed for returned to me - fuck - I don't really know what I would do. Honest.

I CAN say this though:  I would have an open heart (and an open mind) and I would try. I harbor no grudges. The resentment I felt has dissipated. What's left is the deepest sadness I have ever known. Even in the rock-bottom depth of suicidal depression I didn't feel as sad as I do right now knowing how badly I failed my sons, and how selfishly I failed the LOML.

New Year's resolutions?

Fuck.

NO.

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