Blame
Added 2025-05-13 14:00:06 +0000 UTCIt’s not your fault. It’s mine for not knowing myself any better than I did years ago. I am no more myself or any less afraid to be, but I have stopped caring about identity having anything to do with my value or meaning. I embrace my chaos and to my best extent try to control it on a tight yet seemingly long leash.
I am banging myself around with should’s and bruising myself and others in the process. And yet it’s not good for man to be alone. I think I am missing an integral part of what it means to be human, that part that deals with disappointment perhaps. I think it’s because I am so willing to sit with my flaws that I assume others will be too. Because I do see it all, but I am ok with it all. I am ok with your hypocrisy and secrecy. Your anger and annoyance. I can bear it, I was built to, I was made from the fabric of mystery, and I am drawn in by all its hypocritical forms with so much space, as long as it is honest and not self seeking— and in return, not that it’s a good bargain, I want the same space for my humanity too— for all its space sucking quality in my inconsistencies and absences.
The embrace of my shadow or ghost, but not holding me from running and ruining. My defiance of consequence, who has been my most beloved teacher—how can I abandon my first love and companion? Who has marked me seemingly for life with its endlessness in its capacity to ever show and guide. It’s grand pressure pushing me but never shaping me, merely steering.
So no, I have no space to blame you.
I plainly ask you to see my direct nature as an emboldened act of love, my ability to see flaw and require better of it as often as I request it of myself. Foolish me, expecting effort but it comes across as a need for perfection. Is that just you, or have I always come across this way? Do I require too much? You have me questioning it, so is that the answer?
