There once was a time when I used to actually care, but those days have long passed their prime like meat that's spoiled and withered away into nothing. Somewhere during the past year I just simply stopped caring about so many of the things that I used to concern myself with: like the feelings of my ex-girlfriends and whether or not I spend too much, um, time with their friends, like going to bed and waking up at a reasonable hour, and even watching the things that come out of my mouth, the things that can be thought, but never said aloud in public.
To put it all out there, none of those things, or the people's feelings that are involved here mean anything to me at this point in my life. I just block the whining out, tune out the multiple times that I hear myself being called a dirt bag, and internally an excuse is made for myself, so that I don't have to deal with any of it. But while that seems to be working for me, it also seems to be driving away a number of people. Some of which I hope make it to better places, find what it is that they're looking for, because in me it's not here, and maybe, just maybe, somewhere down the road I can stumble back upon those bridges in hopes of finding that they've not been completely burned down.
We will see I guess, but until I figure out what it is that I'm looking for within myself, what it is that I need answered, or where it is that I think that I need to be going, then nothing in my path is safe roadway, and I'll keep burning it down while making excuses for myself for having done so.
Photo courtesy of Damian Gerlach
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