I really want not to feel some kinda way about it.
But I feel some kind of way about it.
Reasonably speaking, it’s petty. But it’s not. It’s big. It’s major. It’s important.
Patience… or… something.
But the way I want it to be, need it to be, is not solely my decision. But I have to deal with it. Until I decide not to deal with it anymore.
And I don’t wanna be that guy.
But I know, in essence, because it is what it is, that the time will come when we have to choose. And I say ‘we’ loosely, because, well, I am always the one to choose.
Because I don’t like contingencies.
And I am getting too old for fairy tales.
And I deal in real.
And I’ve already wasted so much time.
Contentment is something so easily lost and so rarely gained that it seems almost counter productive, because I am content.
But ‘content’ to me is like ‘reasonably happy’. Why settle for ‘reasonably’ when I can be ‘deliriously‘?
I fear the fallout, I think. Not because I am not equipped to deal with fallout but because I don’t know if I am prepared to deal with this fallout.
And because I don’t want to.
And that’s silly.
But it’s real.
In the meantime though, it still hurts. It may be invisible but there is still a heavy weight to it all. And I’m carrying it. Because I chose to.
Because I know that when I set it down, everything is set into motion.
It’s the kind of thing that can tear people apart. Families. Love.
But I also know that at some point…
I’m going to set it all down.