Every decision, even the tiniest, carries a lifetime of consequence. Had I back in 82 worn the black jeans instead of the blue ones, maybe today, I'd be a famous artist. Had I not gone to the 7-11 that night for coffee, maybe I'd have written those perfect words that would immortalize me.
Probably not on either.
But some choices have clearer consequences. Like shall I have another. And shall I have one more after that.
Or should I meet him. Taste that first kiss. Can I have just one? Or will I need more and more until it's all I want.
People are like beer. You twist the cap off and some intangible drug is released. At first it doesn't taste that good, but the more you drink, the sweeter it becomes.
And they change you. How you feel. How you act. Until you begin to wonder how you were ever the person you were before then. Not sure that you ever really were.
But there's no answer. No reason. Just lives bisecting each other at such acute angles.
But no matter what's in it, eventually, if you swallow enough, the bottle is empty. Not just the contents. But what you thought you found in them. That elusive component that changes mere time into what we call life.
I lived once. For a moment or two. And I often think I'd have been better off never having known.
Then what I long for would still be unreal. Only imagined. Not something I can remember. Not soemthing I know can happen.
Sunday
12/18/2005 11:27:00 PM
I think I would have rather not known than to feel this kind of hurt, so deep and so cutting. The loss, the loss is what I have now.
Am not really sure what to say. Don't want to belittle your sorrow.
Despite anything I've written to the contrary, I think it's worth the trade. The pain for the pleasure.
But then again, I tend to enjoy the pain for its poetic properties.
Best wishes.
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