Day one - The return of the son of nothing

 There's something to be said about coming back to something, you never quite know if you do it out of a sense of pride, or maybe duty, or if part of it is you crawling back, feeling thoroughly deteated. It also begs the question, 'why am I here?' - not in some metaphysical way, to be sure, but rather why do I find myself returning to a place that I abandon time and time again? Maybe this time I want to stick around and see if it works. This feels way too 2006-ish in a sense, it's me retreading stuff I did, jeez, almost twenty years ago, but still, after all the experimenting, after all the different platforms - maybe it was here where I was at my most genuine, at my most honest. And that's something that has eluded me for many years now - that capability to be honest with anyone else other than with myself.

And one might argue that being honest with oneself, in and on itself, is something of some import. To the best of my knowledge, I have rarely been dishonest about myself to myself, but it's letting what's on the inside come out and me sharing it with someone else that became first a chore, then an obstacle, and ultimately something I shunned. It's easy for me to explain why I do so - time and experience have afforded me the necessary data to realize that I harbour some very deep and heavy thoughts. And maybe everyone does, I don't know, but mine are the kind that gets me labelled with acccusations of being overly negative or depressive. And I feel I am neither of those, but far from be it for me to not understand why someone else might see me that way.

I guess we are never prepared for the heavy and heady stuff, maybe we never were. And how would you do it? After all, you do not want to trouble an young mind with too much of what it is like to be an adult. Sure, you teach them kindness and you teach them empathy, but that only goes so far. The truth is that we really are all islands. Connecting to one another has become something so hard to do. For me, personally, it seems impossible because in that equation of connecting where it must be a two way thing, I find it unlikely that I would on one hand find someone that would want to connect to me, and that on the other hand I would find someone I could connect to. It's a strange dichotomy, that one - 'Would/Could'. But for this moment I'd rather not focus on connections, real or imagined. There are many things inside me I dare not share with a living soul, no matter how great my love for them. I have found it nigh impossible to just sit down with a close friend and bare my soul. I always feel like I am intruding upon their own well-being, and I wish for nothing of the sort.

So from now on I'm going to try to have some conversations with myself, right here. What words will be laid to rest will be me at my utmost brutal honesty. Maybe that'll help me move forward. We'll see.