Why do we write? Why do we care? My life and my goals are always present but at times I don’t know how to reconcile the two. Those I hold close go away and those who I tell myself cares about me are liars just as I am a liar. The need is always present, for me to rescue, for me to save, to make this a better place for anyone but myself.
It is odd how just a few life events can shape an entire existence. How they can determine my choices, both good and bad. The light brings all my discretions to air, brings them about for others to see, for them to judge. You may ask what my preoccupation with justice is, why I care, and yet I judge myself so harshly. It is to the point that those who once cared about me can even use my own sense of justice against me. I become a target for those who want to lash out, for those who want to hurt, and I absorb this and allow it inside my head. These thoughts are as welcome as my own self-doubt, my indiscretions as a father, as a lover, as a soul.
Part of me wants to go back, to go to whichever war needs fighting, and to lose myself in the destruction, perhaps over there I can save someone, for I am already lost. My soul is the one untouchable thing that I cannot destroy, it can be cracked and torn, filthy and unwanted by all around, but it is something that nobody can take from me. My only true possessions are the thoughts in my head and my soul. I’m good at finding things, at breaking things, and at learning. My skillset travels with me as I journey through this life. My goals are still unmet and I will not leave this earth without reaching at least part of those, if not all.
As I was saying before, like others, my life is shaped by a few events which have affected me, events that I want to control and which end up controlling me in their own way. I want to be loved and to love, to have life and to live. I will find these things eventually and perhaps someday it will be said that I was a good father, if nothing else in this life I want that…