I Want To Believe

Waking up to tears gets old and so do the reasons for them. I understand more at this age than any age before and yet it provides little relief. Misery learned during youth can be the most impossible thing to unlearn as an adult. Childhood was so painful and sometimes it feels like every decade has been wasted on the fool’s errand of finding people to hang onto and love only to lose them and fall apart.

I no longer tell comforting lies or try to paint the past rose-colored. Denial never moved anything forward, not even on accident. Past users and abusers absolutely loved my ability to keep a secret sealed up like a bank safe, but remaining silent about pain only amplifies it. How many times do I need to keep learning that? Silence = pain.

I’ve been told that if you know what you want in life to never give up on that goal, no matter how long it takes. Funny, I always thought that in keeping the goals simple it would somehow make them easier to achieve. Love, friendship, family and good times – were these really such silly dreams to chase? And if so, what does that make every other thing we try to follow as humans? If the ultimate lesson here is that eventually everyone walks away and genuine love or commitment of any kind is a fantasy, what is there to look forward to or hope for? What else is really worth chasing? A career? Power? Money? Can’t say I know many joyful sharks in the world. So what? Fame? A nice ass? Is there one happy person on this planet? Because there is plenty of money and buns you can bounce a quarter off of in this world, but no real smiles or substance.

I miss long conversations into the night and laughter with people I care about. I miss making out and being kissed. I miss dancing.

Most of all, I miss the ability to believe and trust others.