It’s been a long road, but it’s gone by so fast.
Oceans of grief and hurt have drowned me, for decades, for lifetimes,
All reduced or enlarged with a few words, a quick phrase, some rhymes,
I pretend to be a real person, a true story, a history filled with pride and glory, or crushing despair, from here to there I have stretched out my mind and trapped it in nets, I have betrayed myself and gone back on bets, I have denied my real heart for the safety of fear, of no-more-tears, of just, stay, here…
I have been the victim, the prisoner, the rescued refugee, I have let the gentle administration of love befuddle me and sing me to sleep, I have held my head up against the compulsive desire to sleep, dried my eyes when I needed to weep, I have written my lyrics as though I were a song, I was wrong, I was wrong…
The truth isn’t just my solitary perspective. I am not the exception to emotional interpretation of events. I am not the only one trying to overcome a past, trying to take a rough ride and make it seem somehow more musical, more beautiful, more interesting,
Less… Like a real person’s life, and more like a story worth reading, worth listening to, worth telling.
I have a part in this life, and it’s more important to communicate what I have learned, how I have grown, the view from a more clear vantage point, than it is to tell what happened to me,
But I must explain, in detail, or the lessons won’t make sense.
I will tell my tale, I will reveal my past and I will uncover the secrets, and there will be blood. There will be hurt. There will be a reckoning, beyond the cost I pay, merely by remembering, by re-living, beyond what I put into this act,
I will face more loss, on the other side.
It’s a bit rough, it’s not completely ready, it’s not an easy thing…
But it’s the story of me, and I will not wait, anymore.