I’ve come a long way away from myself in the past few years. I look in the mirror and barely recognize the person staring back at me. And I suppose that isn’t exactly a bad thing. I’ve grown leaps and bounds, but I always seem to find myself back to where I started. Point A. I’ve shed bits and pieces of myself. Pieces I never wanted to lose. And now I am, once again, a hollowed shell of myself. Am I still in there somewhere? How do I learn to allow myself to be happy? And to hold on to the happiness just as I do the sadness? I’m terrified of letting go of all the anger and grief that I cling to, to only become a watered down version of myself. What if all of that is what makes me who I am?
& What would be left of me?
What will happen, if in the end of it all, when we get to the end of our road, we find out we really are alone in the universe? That there is no greater power working in our favor. That all along it has been our own actions and decisions that set the dominoes, and there’s no one to blame but ourselves for the outcomes. No fate, no karma, no ‘meant to be.’ That all the time and energy we put into someone, something, without question, to follow blindly, a waste.
Just us, and our faults.
Will people be grateful for the false hope, false faith, if you will, that kept them going? Or angry at the deceit? Or perhaps just angry at themselves, for believing, for not making their own karma, for not living their own lives.
Which will you be?
We often beg the universe for signs. And when they finally come, we ignore them, because the universe has nothing to say that we care to hear. Otherwise, we wouldn’t need the signs in the first place.