"The giver of the blow forgets, the bearer of the scar remembers."
Friday, August 13, 2010
it's midnight and I"ll be bitter if I want to. I'm tired of empty railings. I want to hurt you. You are wrong. innocence may not have been my lot in life. many loose that battle. i'm outside a glass wall. and no one knows it.
Every day, over and over again in a day, for days on end, we ask ourselves... “What matters?” and we never know. and we always act. Sometimes it's the big things. Sometimes it's the little things. Sometimes the little things become big. And we all know, it only takes a second to reduce the “biggest” things to distractions in the moments we wait to hear if what we love will make it through the day, the night, the hour. So what does matter? The things that matter when a life hangs in the balance, or all the miniscule moments of that life and the ones around it that mattered a second before we heard the news and will matter in the days and weeks and years after (if) they come back from the brink? I'm not in crisis. In fact, I'm the farthest from it I've been in years... but I still wonder. Most days, most every day., day after day... What matters? Don't you? When I think I know, I write... that's what you'll find here... what I think matters in a million different moments of time... but I still don't know, I may never know, and if you think you do, I doubt you've really understood my query at all.
