The Return

And here I am...unabashedly returning to the forgotten therapy of blogging.

It's been some time since I sputtered my thoughts down onto a page or scarmbled the keys until ill attempts at the english language birthed the squanderings of a grumpy old man trapped in a young man's body to fruition. However, now, I read the word therapy, and as I've gone back and read the pasts scribblings of my life, I can't help but think how horribly pathetic and immature I was then. And I can vividly recall the exact way I felt when writing those words. The situations I was in. The fears that I felt. The "not so much a regret"'s; where you don't regret anything, but would maybe change one thing you'd do differently. You refer to it as a "not so much a regret" because you've extensively analyzed everything in such great detail, the one thing you decided to change was the only possible thing that would not make the situation have had a different outcome in any way possible. But you'd just feel better about everything. And there it is. Therapy.

For me, just the fluidity of writing heals the soul. Letting whatever comes out just flow, that one thing you can do that just let's you expel the trapped thoughts and emotions from your brain. It's difficult to find for some people. I only recently realized writing was mine, as per above. But I encourage you to find that one thing for you that you know will help. It's not always the same. Sometimes it can be that one breakdown in that song. You know, where the drummer does that ridiculous drum solo with drum triggers and plays off of the reversed delay of his own drumming. Yeah, but that only happened once for me, but I'm sure at least one person knows what I'm talking about, other wise people wouldn't enjoy music so damn much...and there's the grumpy old man. But thats what's different now, the grumpy old man wasn't a part of my past scribblings. Thanks therapy. You bitch.

I've given a lot of thought to this idea of growing up. I fought it most my life. Unintentionally. I was just naive. By the time I wasn't naive anymore, I was so cynical, I wouldn't have accepted an apology from a puppy. But the change was like a light switch. Grown up.

Sometimes accepting your reality is hard to do. As an introvert, I can quite easily get lost in my own world. Sometimes they blend a little, and that's where the growing up gets hard. We can struggle to keep ourselves from ourselves. It was ok when we were kids. But now we have responsibilities. Thanks responsibilities. You bitch.

Sorry, I found myself in another rant, and thought I should keep the structure going.

Maybe the whole point of having to read the past scribblings of your life is to be able to remember how young you used to be so you can see how far you've come. Although mostly, it just makes you realize how foolish you are and were.

Life is interesting to me. I think I've reached the point where I've realized that it's kinda shitty to be alive. It's really not so easy being alive for most people. And we, who struggle with our lives yet aren't quite the same people who are stuck in a country that is in the midst of war. Or, you know, can at least afford to eat once a day. Well, we all take that for granted, I think. And there is nothing wrong with being someone who just doesn't care about himself long enough to help someone else make their life just that smidgen better. But in the past, I've whined and moaned and bickered about it. Now, its just life.

It's just life. We all have to live it. Let's just help each other through it.

Time to put on the "big boy pants" and accept the apologies of some puppies.

Wait...