I suppose it's just that I'm not used to being ranked second, but I am not liking this situation. It's all wrong, those involved are all wrong. I don't...like being the number two on the priority list. Plus I think I've always felt compared to that, so I'm hypersensitive to not being as good. Which I know I'm not, I'm inferior in every way but I didn't used to be...or at least in that case. I've always counted on that safety net, that "I'm the very first" kind of scenario. I thought it would eternally be there, waiting to comfort me when I'm feeling down and offering it's presence, admiration and full support. Now that that's gone it's just unsettling, for one because I'm walking the trapeze without a guarantee of protection and shelter, and two because it's weird how unconsciously dependent I was on it. These thoughts have been mulling themselves over and over in my head every time a situation arises when that happens, or anytime it's brought up and I can't shake it. I can't shake my dependence on you, and I don't like it at all.
I'm supposed to not need people. And I don't....except for apparently I need one. How annoying, I'm totally in a position to be, I don't know, shot down and already I have been because somehow a bullet has slipped through the indestructible, break-proof, 24 inch cement doors and hit me directly in my femoral artery. Now I guess I bleed out if I remove it, so it' got to stay there. But what if it wedges itself out on its own? I wouldn't cry out, I probably wouldn't flinch, but my ruptured artery would leak and I'd internally bleed. And then with that hole, I'd have to have another bullet come and take it's place and I'm back in the original scenario. What the freaking frig, how did this happen? It's not even a logical bullet choice, it's just a kind of a random one.
How can people be so open to others? It's strange to me that everyone, or at least a vast majority, can readily throw themselves into so unstable an investment. An investment in which your money could be tossed aside and burned while someone else's is picked far above your piles of ashes. And you're left cursing yourself for being so reckless. At least I'm not rash, and I tried to keep it all to myself. I guess the bullet, illogical and random as it is, was pounding so desperately against the wall and so repeatedly that after a while it wore through and got me. But what difference does it make; either way you end up with a possibly debilitating wound in your leg.
Pft, and now that it's freaking there, it's yearning for some other, more shapely leg. Damn it! Not that I'm romantically inclined to the bullet, it is after all a small metal thing, but damn it all if I'm not completely interested in every other aspect of it's existence. This threatening little bullet is fascinating to me now, but it only slightly returns the interest.
Although, I guess it's not fair for me to say it can only and must stay in my leg while I go about my business unnoticing and uncaring. It's only now that you're...I mean, bullet is not-so-discreetly wedging your way out that I've plucked up some interest. And I don't think I'd be like this if the bullet dug itself in again. I'd simply stop teetering around on my high rope and skip across it, fully aware but unappreciative of my own personal foam pit just feet below.
But as it is, regardless of the potential danger, I like the bullet's presence in my leg. If only we could reach a happy medium where the bullet is satisfied and I am, too.
Talk about your Homeric simile.
...alright I posted this but I still want to ramble, and I'm going to continue using the same simile/metaphor/whatever so why start a new blog? Here's the deal: the bullet is now, to my ever changing expectations, too small. I like it being there, and currently it is the only one besides the ones I was born with (This simile is weird sometimes. I was apparently born with bullets inside of me), but now that it's moved on and I've never -besides for a brief period of time- been romantically inclined to it something's missing. That inescapable desire we all have: to fully enrapture a bullet, and to be totally in love with it. I don't know why suddenly all of these wants for bullet-closeness have come to me, but it's weird and like I said, inescapable. I want a bullet to get me in my heart or in m head, somewhere drastically important, and I want so badly for it to grow dependent on whatever vital organ it buried itself in. Someone once said that I'm the least romantic person they know: I was shell-shocked. Not a day goes by where I don't think about that one bullet, specifically chosen for my organ of it's pleasure, to sneak it's way through that 24inch cement wall. And I realize that I'm still little and the shooter knows what's best (weirdly enough:) for me. I am in essence, as one of my friends say, nothing more than a little girl, wistfully dreaming of the day she's shot. That sounds weird. But I get my point.
I'm even willing to risk a few more vital-artery-wounds in order to get it, so long as I learn something with each and it didn't go too deep. Because for me I know that once I'm shot...it's for good. So the bullet's got to be exactly and totally perfect, meaning I'll probably not let it past the wall for a long time. Hopefully it's a patient bullet, it'll have to be. And a bullet that is completly understanding and knows my organ as well as bulletly possible. This bullet check-list keeps getting more and more specific. Okay I think I'm for real done this time.
Alright I just read the part about my pal calling me the least romantic person they know. Well I'm an idiot for being surprised by it, I have my dang doors that I don't let anything in or out of. It's just that I hide that part of myself for whatever reason, probably that vulnerability thing again it keeps getting me, so that people can't see it. When I'm in a conversation before it gets too deep or sentimental I'll make some joke or sarcastic remark to bring the level of...depth, I guess back down to shallowness. And so most people think that I'm a very tough, sarcastic person when in reality, behind the door, I'm a day-dreaming, wistful, soft sort of person. I notice and love things like detailed shadows or the contrast of green forest against a baby-blue sky on a sunny day. And how in winter the sun's rays get softer and weaker and when the sun sets, everything glows golden orange. I make wishes on stars, at 11:11, and when I toss a coin in a fountain. I cry every time I see the Power Puff girl movie when Bunny sacrifices herself and says through her regretful tears and speech impediment, "Bunny is good!" to the Professor. And Good Lord, Bridge to Terabithia? I'd just gotten out of a relationship with the best friend I'd ever had and I had tears dripping down my cheeks for a full hour after the little girl died and they weren't able to explore there own little safe haven of wonder, magic and excitement. But the point is: no one knows that stuff about me. None of it is a big deal, everyone has stuff like that, but they're not afraid or ashamed or whatever of sharing it. I am. I'd like a bullet that I can tell all that to and not feel stupid or worried, a bullet I can read the bible with (yes bullets can read), and discuss the awesome power of God and marvel over the fact that before He created anything, there was no color or anything at all. Not a big black expanse; black didn't exist. Expanses didn't exist. Wonder of the hugeness of eternity. That there was no beginning to God, he has simply existed infinitely, not just forever but more than that; that forever doesn't even apply because even forever starts at some point. A bullet to make a home with, and a lifetime of fond memories. Someone I can travel with and experience the world with, someone to experience all there is to experience: love, happiness, wonder, awe, sorrow, pain, disappointment, and who is as much a part of me as I am.
Or does that idea of love even exist? I know that in the terms of God it does; God's love for humanity is fierce and all-consuming. But does that sort of affection or closeness even occur? Utter understanding and ardent enjoyment and passion for them? Maybe it doesn't, and it's just a romanticized fantasy in my head. Love may be a stout, blunt kind of thing. A simple acceptance of the other person, an acknowledgment that while you'll be together for the rest of your lives, you are in a way alone because two people cannot give themselves to each other so fully. Yet now that I have this notion, this exaggerated, unrealistic picture of incandescent happiness I doubt I'll ever settle for anything less. And if I do, it'll only be with bitter disappointment that my idea of love doesn't apply to human-to-human relationships.
Philosopher's and poets alike talk about love being the most beautiful thing in the universe, and I truly think it is. And perhaps the Earth's or even universe's beauty is a manifestation of God's love for us. Have you ever seen the Orion Nebula, or the Cygnus Loop Nebula? If not go to Google images and look them up, they are so beautiful and so immense. They're a work of galactic-sized art. A bit closer to home, Irish landscapes anyone? The wild, destitute beauty of a tundra, and the exotic appeal of tropic flowers and birds with their bright colors and plumes. And simpler things too, can be God's way of expressing his love. The other day the weather was about seventy-five degrees and I went in the backyard to get our dog Lily, and after I put her inside I had to come back outside. I laid a blanket on the grass, and though I'd brought one of my favorite books with me to read, I just lay there soaking up the day and it was perfect. Stuff like that, I love it! No one knows it, but I do.
It might be interesting to start looking at every little thing in life as an expression of God's love, or a lesson of His. You get in a fight with your sibling and learn to pick your battles, you hear of the global economy plummeting and you realize that every person, all of the multitudes everywhere, are connected by the bond of our creation by a Loving and Sovereign King, you're expected at a business meeting and after you miss it because your flight got delayed you find out that the company you were about to invest in went belly up and you discover that God's in control and looking after you at all times, or when you run into someone at Starbucks and spill coffee down their front and they become your dearest friend, you find that blessings come in disguise. With that kind of thought process, you'll learn to appreciate everything exponentially more. Armed with the knowledge that the King of the Universe is with you, you can go out and live your life, so long as you consult Him in all you do, and get to do all of the wonderful things he placed here on the Earth for our enjoyment. It is such a relief to know that whatever happens, God is teaching me and shaping me and that He's there always watching over a protecting me. Or if I ever experience a bad situation, I can run to Him to escape from the troubles of the world and take comfort in the fact that all things will fade except Him.
Gosh, how can anyone in life be sad if they have Him? I want to run up to all of the sad or hurting people in the world and tell them how great everything is.
And I've come full circle. I didn't plan on starting out all despondent and concerned and then end it by talking about God's magnificence, but these things happen when you have a Father as superb as mine(: Well...I think that's all my thoughts for tonight, but maybe I'll be in the middle of sleeping and wake up with yet another epiphany and have to come type it up.
Edit: I just found out that in Psalms David would be facing some huge dilemma and being pouring out his heart to God. Before he came to the end of the psalm, he's calmed down and his heart is at peace. This doesn't mean his problems disappeared, but that after getting it off of his heart that his mind was refocused on God and he felt calm. When I figured that out it kind of struck a chord in me; is that not exactly what this whole thing was? Amazing
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