- Jan 31, 2011
- 5,769
- 8,194
- 54
Oh well its here, the final night, the house is clean, there is an air of extreme sadness in the house, in the end, I had to get out and come here to the shop, Sian has shed a tear or two, me, I have no more tears left to shed, I have actually got the point where I can't really feel anything, or even care about anything, the thought of getting excited about say a holiday, or a new car, clothes, seems alien to me, strange, the park opposite is dark now, there is a wind, it makes the trees sway so, james blunt plays, no goodbyes, you'll always be Miss America, was it so hard to breathe?
I guess I should feel sad, I don't, happy, nope, I see everything it its celestial glory, and I see nothing, in its inky darkness, duality, always the duality, I would say I feel complete, but something is missing, not a broken heart, I have gone way beyond that, maybe the sudden realisation that I have to be alone, not out of choice, or because of bitterness, but due to the plain fact I am unable to interact with people without putting them before me, oh it sounds noble, and good, but its not, all you do is strip people of the ability to fend for themselves, to take responsibility for themselves, to think for themselves, as I look back at the last 20 years, so many people, so many minds, so much giving, yet it was not me giving, something inside drove me to do it, something inside me enslaved me, and I do not know why, and to be honest, I don't really care anymore, everyone has gone now, I sit back in my chair, the ghosts of the past dance before me, so many ghosts, so many loves, and yet, here, at 23.09 the day after my 47th birthday, I have finally become the person I wanted to be when I was younger, alone, solitary, able to find happiness in my own soul, whatever happiness is, certainly, there is no point in the pursuit of temporary happiness, and long term happiness would probably get boring, no, its not happiness I yearn for, its not even love anymore, no, what I yearn for, what I have always yearned for, thought of, through the last 20 years is to be liberated, to be free, and now finally I am.
The ghosts of the dogs float in the air, rory, bran, dan, a solitary tear falls down my cheek, I have tried not to think about the dogs, tried to avoid them for the last year, but truth be told, pah, what can a man write about truth through tears, tears are not a foundation for truth, I wave goodbye to the ghosts of the dogs, wave goodbye to the tear, now is not a time for wallowing, no, it is not, maybe this is what I will do now and then, just find a quiet evening now and then and get all the ghosts out, I have no photos, in fact everything I own is here in this shop, 46 years, and a few black bags, I allow myself a wry smile, everything they said don't do, I did, every scent of every hair, I chased it, I threw myself into love with careless abandon, I ignored all the danger signs, and I never, ever, gave up my innocence. My innocence, my ability to be as honest as I could, to have no agenda, to see every pain and feel it for my own, my innocence, its getting late, I am getting tired, the theme to Braveheart plays, it reminds me of 20 years ago, of Lynne, of my two unborn children, Nikki and Ash, my house, pipe dreams, ahh to be normal once more, to hanker after material objects, holidays, possessions, if I was younger and fitter, I would go and fight a war somewhere, to fight for the truth, to die a truth seekers death, but I am not young, or fit, and I am too tired to fight, I keep seeing her face, it will probably haunt me for some years to come, I don't want to go home, I don't want to count the hours before the morning, before I wake up the face for the last time, before the face becomes one of the ghosts, it is only a matter of time before it does, but not now, not tonight, not now, tomorrow night, we'll do it tomorrow night, don't let this be the night of the ghost, but time waits for no man, tonight is the night when the ghosts welcome a new member, acceptance would be a good facet at this present time, all men die, but not all men truly live, I have achieved nothing, have no qualifications to speak of, have amassed no huge wealth, or even any wealth, but I have achieved what I set out to achieve, solitude and freedom, I have lived and died a thousand times, tonight, the night of the final ghost, I die again, to be reborn, but as what? I don't know, I never do,
A car pulls up at the traffic lights outside, I can see a couple, some kids in the back, I smile, its not for everyone, especially not for madmen, in any case, everything is as it should be, everything, is, as, it, should be.
The ghosts wave goodbye, they are excited, they are about to welcome someone new, I leave them to it, they will come and visit me again, maybe on another night like tonight, but for the moment, they go.
but do you know what the truly maddening thing is, I would not change any of it for the world, none of it, not even tonight, its time to go home, for one last kiss, one last hug, its time..
I guess I should feel sad, I don't, happy, nope, I see everything it its celestial glory, and I see nothing, in its inky darkness, duality, always the duality, I would say I feel complete, but something is missing, not a broken heart, I have gone way beyond that, maybe the sudden realisation that I have to be alone, not out of choice, or because of bitterness, but due to the plain fact I am unable to interact with people without putting them before me, oh it sounds noble, and good, but its not, all you do is strip people of the ability to fend for themselves, to take responsibility for themselves, to think for themselves, as I look back at the last 20 years, so many people, so many minds, so much giving, yet it was not me giving, something inside drove me to do it, something inside me enslaved me, and I do not know why, and to be honest, I don't really care anymore, everyone has gone now, I sit back in my chair, the ghosts of the past dance before me, so many ghosts, so many loves, and yet, here, at 23.09 the day after my 47th birthday, I have finally become the person I wanted to be when I was younger, alone, solitary, able to find happiness in my own soul, whatever happiness is, certainly, there is no point in the pursuit of temporary happiness, and long term happiness would probably get boring, no, its not happiness I yearn for, its not even love anymore, no, what I yearn for, what I have always yearned for, thought of, through the last 20 years is to be liberated, to be free, and now finally I am.
The ghosts of the dogs float in the air, rory, bran, dan, a solitary tear falls down my cheek, I have tried not to think about the dogs, tried to avoid them for the last year, but truth be told, pah, what can a man write about truth through tears, tears are not a foundation for truth, I wave goodbye to the ghosts of the dogs, wave goodbye to the tear, now is not a time for wallowing, no, it is not, maybe this is what I will do now and then, just find a quiet evening now and then and get all the ghosts out, I have no photos, in fact everything I own is here in this shop, 46 years, and a few black bags, I allow myself a wry smile, everything they said don't do, I did, every scent of every hair, I chased it, I threw myself into love with careless abandon, I ignored all the danger signs, and I never, ever, gave up my innocence. My innocence, my ability to be as honest as I could, to have no agenda, to see every pain and feel it for my own, my innocence, its getting late, I am getting tired, the theme to Braveheart plays, it reminds me of 20 years ago, of Lynne, of my two unborn children, Nikki and Ash, my house, pipe dreams, ahh to be normal once more, to hanker after material objects, holidays, possessions, if I was younger and fitter, I would go and fight a war somewhere, to fight for the truth, to die a truth seekers death, but I am not young, or fit, and I am too tired to fight, I keep seeing her face, it will probably haunt me for some years to come, I don't want to go home, I don't want to count the hours before the morning, before I wake up the face for the last time, before the face becomes one of the ghosts, it is only a matter of time before it does, but not now, not tonight, not now, tomorrow night, we'll do it tomorrow night, don't let this be the night of the ghost, but time waits for no man, tonight is the night when the ghosts welcome a new member, acceptance would be a good facet at this present time, all men die, but not all men truly live, I have achieved nothing, have no qualifications to speak of, have amassed no huge wealth, or even any wealth, but I have achieved what I set out to achieve, solitude and freedom, I have lived and died a thousand times, tonight, the night of the final ghost, I die again, to be reborn, but as what? I don't know, I never do,
A car pulls up at the traffic lights outside, I can see a couple, some kids in the back, I smile, its not for everyone, especially not for madmen, in any case, everything is as it should be, everything, is, as, it, should be.
The ghosts wave goodbye, they are excited, they are about to welcome someone new, I leave them to it, they will come and visit me again, maybe on another night like tonight, but for the moment, they go.
but do you know what the truly maddening thing is, I would not change any of it for the world, none of it, not even tonight, its time to go home, for one last kiss, one last hug, its time..
