Picking at Scabs
This is kind of a delayed entry. I wrote it over a month ago when I was in a bad way. Listening to this song by Simply Red brought it back for me. It's a rather sad yet beautiful song...makes you feel reflective or at least to me it does.
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On days like this one, you sit quietly taking in the silence of the afternoon where there are hardly any neighbours around to distract you and their children are at camp. And it is mostly in the silence of the afternoon that your thoughts come into full form. In which you begin to slowly pick at scabs. Picking tiny holes in your already crumbling wall until you eventually self-destruct.
A while ago, you decided that the only way for you to move forward was to forgive yourself of all that you deemed so 'terrible' in the past. you have come to the conclusion, however, that you cannot. Every time you allow your mind to drift into the depths of your subconscious, everything that was embarrassing for you in the past comes to the surface. Small, trivial things that for some reason continue to plague you.
Your actions. The words you said. How it felt afterward. All of it. It upsets you. Everything you have done, you consider to be some sort of failure. You allow yourself to be bothered. You over-think and over-analyse most things...unnecessarily so but you feel it needed to be done anyway.
Life, a philosopher once said, is simple; it's just us humans who make it so complicated.
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I recall John Mayer's blog about how simple life is. If he could go back in time, his older self would go to his younger self and tell him about life in ways that only they could understand. Sometimes I think I would love to do that. I would say: "avoid doing that or do this instead.". If you do what I tell you, you won't be the bumbling mess that I am now. I'm trying to make things much easier for you.
I find it difficult to let go of anything. My memory, I think, is twisted. It always lets me remember things that I would love to forget.