Heart Shaped Glasses (When The Heart Guides The Hand)
It’s one thing to present a person with a gift.
It’s another thing entirely to not tell someone whether their gift is a box of chocolates, or a hand grenade.
Here I stand at the gates of precisely what I desire. An incomplete and at the same time whole package of relative comfort. The exciting, and yet painstakingly familiar stench of triumphant uncertainty is amidst in this garden of unfulfilled conquests and unkept promises. The ideas that free-flow through my mind now are a stimulating return to the land of general acceptance, and for a brief moment I was more than sure that my guard was ready to finally be dropped over the side of the R.M.S. “Cynic”.
However, I should know better. There is no such flower as deadly as the Autumn Crocus, and as all who are familiar with it are aware; the beauty of the plant itself cannot nearly compare to the deadly toxin it carries. I want so badly to let this flower in, and it would seem from a distance that I am merely holding up a shield out of a long-standing caution that doesn’t seem to want to dissipate. This is true. There’s nothing I’d like more than to cast my worries to the wind and attempt to make something for myself. Chances are, when an opportunity looks too good to be true…it isn’t.
I now have this opportunity standing in front of me. Whether it be the outstandingly ideal conditions as to which I’m not familiar with, or the ever-so-familiar scent of failure that looms over me now; I can’t stand living with such a facade of fresh belonging, beckoning me into the arms of the partnership that in the end will come back to haunt me. I’ve been warned by others, and perhaps I should heed the warning now. It’s not as if I’m not seeing the same thing they are. Perhaps I see even more than they do. What my viewpoint is though, is what brings such idealistic thoughts to my mind of fortune and fairness. It’s a once in a lifetime chance to really push forward and take hold of something I’ve always wanted.
I know however that like all other accounts of this, I must once again work ridiculously hard for it. My endeavors will fall on deaf ears if I don’t voice everything that I mean early on. It’s a two-way street with dead-ends on both sides. If I back out now, I may never know what I missed. I may never be able to say that I found exactly what I was looking for, when I found it. I’ve felt this failure before, and I’ve let it slip through my fingers like sand in the wind. The last thing I want is to have the remorse of what I didn’t chase after, being etched into dead eternity.
The incubating thought that continues to pester me however, is the forces of “what if’s” army. If there is anything I hate, it’s considering the worst. I have far too much experience in this to think that it’s all going to be okay once I start. I know I’ll have to work at it, and incredibly hard. I know that compared to what I want, I’m the bottom of the food chain and the only thing that will guarantee me success is if I ensure that my target audience knows my goals, aspirations, and ambitions from the start.
It’s like staring down the barrel of the gun that is going to shoot you, and trying to bargain for your life back without knowing if the gun is loaded or not. When hello has so swiftly turned to good-bye for me recently, it’s hard to tell what ring of fire I’m going to jump through next for someone, just to merit their attention and equal respect. Which such a sliding scale of support and admiration, it’s hard to tell who to look out for in present day “nowhere land”.
It’s not as if you haven’t felt the same tidal wave rushing towards you. That feeling of near hopeless circumstances rushing to meet you at the same time as your glimmer of hope surfaces. You don’t know where you’re going, and sometimes the only comfort is your reflection in the water surrounding you. It’s when that seamless mirror is disturbed, and you realize the ripple now blasting through you is something you both desire and fear.
It’s that longing for an air of normality that causes people like myself to take the leap of faith that I wouldn’t even take on my own thoughts of origin and death. What bothers me the most though, is the absolutely painful affinity that has been created through what seems like an unfair exchanges of near cynical ideologies alike. The doubt now limiting my ability to think positively fades quickly, as I shrug off my own desires to please that of another. This is something I’m far beyond unexperienced in, and I don’t like it a bit. It’s the unnerving thought of abandoning my own priorities for that of another, in the sense that I’m somehow gaining ground in trench warfare.
With this final thought I have come to the conclusion that perhaps the insurmountable odds stacked against me are an intentional front. Maybe I can turn this into “too good NOT to be true”, and do every possible thing in my power to make it work. It screams blatant words of frustrating failure at me, and somewhere in the back of my mind I know I’m fucking insane, but for the life of me I can’t figure out anything else I’d rather be doing. I can only say one thing, regarding this to my target.
I don’t mind you keeping me on pins and needles.
If I can stick to you, than you can stick me too.