I once dwelled in the dramatics of my life. I found resolve in the desolate memory of my past. I was granted’ by self, a solace in the darkness. I thought the ugly was what I was. I thought the bad was what created who I was. I lived in my dark truths. I built a house there with what I thought could create a home for my ever churning soul. I lived there long. Nightly I would gallivant through the decay. One evening was spent solely in the ashes of the house I grew up in. I went searching through the carnage of the home I once had; searching, looking, yearning to discover inklings of my past. A piece of an image, a toy, remnants of my beginners piano books were but a few of the reminders I discovered. I searched for whatever would re harness a past I could barely remember. The truth of the time was bleak. A moment not experienced merely remembered. I tried to find some truth in the items. to remember the joy, happiness experienced with these artifacts of my past. But upon the discovery of these items, after the dive into the archaic memories,rather I was reminded of the destroyer of all of these items, the memories. The wrecking ball that was truth. I saw the joy come to a dead end. I saw the depressing truth of my current state; what a waste it all was. All of these memories punctuated by pain and wasted energy. I remembered the nights spent alone. I was reminded of the purpose these items served. I remembered how bad reality was. I was reminded of the solitude I have found comfort in. Alone is what I know. once joyous, now the latter I returned to my ram shack of a house built in the city of ruin, curled beneath the twig like structure, glanced to the moon and asked for reprieve in my dreams. Following the next evening was left to another rediscovery of a past time of my life to dwell, sulk and drink over.
I have spent so much of my life in that mode. Believing that if I let go of my dark truths, if I don’t keep them fresh I will shatter all that I am and who I believe I am. I believed that pain was the defining factor of my being. Why else would life churn out such a vulgar path?
Today I don’t live there anymore. relieved, one night I stood at the center of this gloom world I had created, enamored by the ultimate dark creativity that was harnessed to craft soot and ash into such a complex, deep and detailed world. I began with remnants of the home I was raised in. I stood in the center, and began to clean. I started with my mothers room. I cleansed the walls of harsh words, and alcoholic truths. I relieved the bed of the nightmares my mother harnessed. I relieved the bed frame of the pain and sorrow it harbored as my mother healed from her accident knowing she had lost her children; left to heal in a house filled with the memory of us. I continued through the ash spreading water on all of the things that had collected soot, ash, and shewed away the remaining demons. Now, I walked to my ramshack, my home away from home. The home that I had claimed for years as my place of solace. with the moon shining through the twigs and soot I saw the shadow of myself. I had grown. I set it to flames.
I have discovered that throughout all of the pain, throughout all of the hard times, throughout all of the self created complexity there is but one ultimate truth. Simplicity is true happiness. Joy is here, now. Love is in the people around me. Happiness is a mode of action, and sadness is but a choice. Truth lies in others, not in what I philosophy and quantify in my mind. Happiness is truth.
I can love. I will love. I will be happy.
I wouldn’t change my life for the world.