This doesn't matter to you at all. It doens't matter who you are, or why you are here, or if you ever come back. It doesn't matter if you're not here. And it doesn't matter if that makes no sense to you, if of course, you're here.
It matters for me. To me. About me, around me, and only to me.
Weird, typing that. It is truth, honest to god, lipsmackin, for-real truth, but that truth still has the power to make me more than slightly uncomfortable. Because when is it truth that it doesn't matter about you, and it matters about me?
I've been through tough times in my life, but if you dig deep enough, so have we all. And, not to gloss it up with shine, our tough times in many instances are luxury problems. But I'm no philosopher or student of psychology or sociology (so much so that I obviously don't know which of those two would know the answers to this), but whatever is tough for you is tough. We measure by our own litmus test and what is tough is tough is tough. I think I may elaborate on this idea later, I think perhaps I am being unclear, but for now it will suffice that I know what I am talking about, and it doesn't matter if you do or do not.
Back to that again, and so soon.
I had a nice big bump on the road after Charlie. It had been veritable smooth sailing for so long I didn't believe it was happening. Chalked it all up to happenstance, to occasional, to this too shall pass. But it didn't fucking pass. And I was choking to death in sadness, choking on the realization that something fundamental had shifted. More than shifted. Been earthquaked and everything had been reshaped and there were enormous craters that I would have to navigate. It took a long time to cross. Perhaps still crossing? Perhaps.
I've always said that creativity comes with ... not a curse, that's not right. Obviously it's not true, I haven't always said it. Truth: I've always thought it, and maybe occasionally implied or inferred that creativity comes with a bit of crazy. Creative walks on the dark side of the moon. And I spent a good deal of time on the dark side lately.
The hopeful, the thing to which I cling (not sure if I like how that sounds but that's okay, it works), is that without the dark side of the moon there is no bright side. There is no good without bad. Dichotomy. Don't know how many papers I wrote on that concept in university, but I don't think I forreal got it till now.
I need a break now. This is hard and I am crying and I need to take a minute to breath. It's good to be back and I am back, and I don't care if you care or know. I'm back on my terms and my terms state that I must spend time here before I can spend time There. That creative comes by baring some, by honesty and digging and peeling, and that I can't go There without doing the work.