Something Happened Along The Way

I tend to default to thinking that it is my fault, but the reverse of that coin is that it is usually the case.

But what I think does not signify.

I get tired of being wrong. I get tired of being wrong when I am right. And yet, I am still wrong.

So, in the end I will distract myself with words belonging to others who most surely tell no lies, or music which will tell only truths. At times there will be the loudness of one while consuming the silence of the other. There is no fear of the dark, but merely the ominous presence of the silence of the world allowing the workings of the mind to gather steam and forge ahead into the abyss once more.

Digging up bones, ghosts, and empties. Nothing like sitting with the ghosts of the past drinking the spirits they bring to the game, while gnawing on the bones of past decisions and actions. And while the past no longer exists, you feel every scar that the past left on you. The sympathy you feel for others who were victims to your deeds, and the pity for yourself knowing the selfishness you exhibited in your hubris. 

I had always hoped I was not that person, but as I said: It is my own fault.

Drive

 Drive:

Verb

1. To operate and control the direction and speed of a motor vehicle.

2. Propel or carry along by force in a specified direction.

3. Urge or force (animals or people) to move in a specified direction.

4. (of a source of power) Provide the energy to set and keep (an engine or piece of machinery) in motion.: "turbines driven by steam".

5. (of a fact or feeling) Compel (someone) to act in a particular way, especially one that is considered undesirable or inappropriate.

Noun

1. A trip or journey in a car.

What a word. “He felt the drive to drive his car on a small drive.” 

There are times I wish I had been more driven, more focused, on what I could have been. “What” is open to discussion. Professionally, personally, romantically, socially. Career related, I cannot say that I kept my focus. I know that some young people get an idea of what they want to be when they get older. A local nine-year old boy has started his own business (with help of his parents and family) of baking bread. It started when he asked his mom to teach him how to bake, and now he gets orders from others and bakes bread. He wants to be a baker when he grows up. Focus. Driven. I do not know that I wanted to “be” anything when I was growing up.

Personally, I wish I had the drive to be a better person, be more proactive at being a better person. I wish I had been a lot less selfish when I was younger. I have so, so many faults that I wish had the drive to grow out of. These faults harm no others, but I wish I had been a better person. I have a list. I will not list it here. 

Romantically, I wish I had the drive to just be romantic. I either lost that when I was young or never found it. I believe it is closely related to the selfish part of me. I have theories. I talk about them to my dogs. They listen.

Socially, I was never one to be a part of any team. I did not play team sports when I was younger. I love being a part of a team, I love the work-together dynamic. I just fail at it. (See: Romantically.) 

I am driven to learn things, to learn about people, and places. I love history. I love learning about what makes a person who they are. I suppose that is related to me feeling that I do not know who I am. Or, rather, why I am not the person I believe I could and should be. 

I see my faults. I hide them well, but the person who hides a body always knows where it was buried. 

Sometimes I wonder whether the drive to travel is me seeking another version of me, or if I am just running from my failures. Running from what I lack. Running on empty.

I will get over it. I wish you peace.