The mattress was lumpy and as I lay awake at night I ruminate on the paths that led me here. If I had stayed on one course--the one I left after a disastrous affair with a razor blade and a bottle of brandy--would it still have lead me here?
(Would it still have led me to you?)
I wonder at times at the things people do when situations demand them to rise to the occasion. What prompted such Herculean efforts to surmount those overwhelming odds? And why sometimes some would rather curl up and die than stir themselves for their own survival?
We sometimes limit ourselves without knowing it. The joy and pleasure we had in things when we were small seemed to have lost their luster, and this existence lost their magic. We no longer go through life with rose-coloured glasses but we see it stark and naked--much like our faults and foibles. Irony is, those faults and foibles became our suit of armour as we go about our lives.
These are one of the many thoughts percolating at the back of my head when I observe people around me: What made you change? What keeps you going?
(What was it that you couldn't define yet still compels you to stand by me?)
In this life where choices define us, I have made my peace with mine. There are things I'd like to do over, but for what it worth those choices were made on my own cognizance and I stand by them. No regrets. I will admit though, that my choices concerning you still have me at a loss. If life is made up of paths and roads, then we're breaking our own trail and I sometimes wonder where we'll end up, or where I might lead you.
Once, when I voiced my doubt out loud, you said, "You'll lead me home."
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