Days past, remembered only in the ripple they’ve caused to eventuate the here and now, sometimes feel so futile.

Just another day. Nothing spectacular happened. Nothing momentous. Just a perfectly average day and yet, a day which I will struggle to remember for the rest of my life. Once again this day falls upon me, and from the time I wake, I struggle with all the thoughts that I know must eventually be harbored. Throughout the day I become increasingly anxious to get back home in order to liberate my prisoners. Finally, I grab a drink, a pencil, and my notebook and settle into my bed, alone, to ponder…everything.

I write.

And with the writing comes the exasperating “big picture”. Another glimpse into this eternal, incomplete, oscillating jigsaw puzzle. Where does this piece go? Where will my next piece come from? Oh, how easy would it be to simply give in to fatalism and be done with it. I had a captivating conversation the other day about faith and belief. We both believe in no regrets, though I’m unfortunately plagued with the “what if…” syndrome. I know I have made poor choices, yet some, I’m sure, have had positive influences in my life. Although, some decisions and actions I’ll always dwell heavily upon. And if I’ve learned or benefited from this at all, it comes across in future decision makings.

I feel like sharing one important revelation I had in my writings tonight. It’s no secret I have trouble remembering…everything. So, it gives me strength and confidence when I ride the wave of nostalgia to recall a conversation, a smile, a moment. Contrarily, my head loves to soar off into the future; flying towards all those things yet to come in an accelerated jubilee. I use my finely tuned logic skills along with my endless imagination and give in to dream.

Everything in moderation. In a panicked revelation, I truly feel I’ve ignored the present in some vital way. Finally, I felt that evil wave of regret building up ready to crash over me. Suffocating. How easy would it be to give in and let it pound my surf? Choices, relationships, opportunities, what has suffered because of my lack of perception.

I write to remember.

Days pass remembered only in the ripple they’ve caused to eventuate the here and now.

Sometimes they feel so futile.

“Nothing changes more constantly than the past; for the past that influences our lives does not consist of what happened, but of what men believe happened.”

—Gerald W. Johnston


Current mood: nostalgic
Currently listening: Songs of Love and Hate by Leonard Cohen


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