The oppression

I'm being followed by an old ghost. He stays close by my heels; low like a small cowering dog, living in my shadows. I have been cruel to him and he asks me for peace. Such a little thing that I have refused him these many years.

I have been loved in the past by three men and I have broken all of their hearts. Two of them I have hated, for the crime of loving me unbendingly. I found it a bondage. I write for them, especially the two I have hated. I write to put their ghosts to rest, to give them their peace.

I ran after them. I wrote a story in my mind and pursued it. I felt strong, powerful, in control. Control. That story rewrote itself before me, each moment more and more and that control I had run with had turned against me. Is that what I really wanted? It had been an impulse. I had no real imagination to picture how things would play out, all those repercussions.

Josh Smith held onto my hand like a safety net, as if that simple act could hold onto me. I could not escape it, each day, every moment, he held tight to my hand. I wanted to feel free and I didn't.

My great error, always, has been a failure to know myself. When I was young it was simply inexperience, I hadn't been alive long enough to know myself, to detect who I was in this world, what I wanted to be, what I cared about, how I wanted to live. In my early twenties I was living out the idea of who I was, rather than actually being. I still didn't know myself, but I thought I knew what I wanted and how I wanted to live. Borrowed concepts, perhaps. Things that looked pretty or sounded impressive. I am at a new impasse. I believe I know myself, but still feel uncertain of what I really want from life or how I want to live. Worst of all I don't trust myself because of who I have been and the fear of being her still.

Can I ever forgive Josh for his shortcomings? Can I let him be human again, even just as a memory? Can I forgive myself for my mistakes? Or will I always torment myself with them? Why can't I let the past go? Why do I hold onto this haunted house? What resolution am I trying to pace out year after year?

I still feel like a borrowed hodge podge. The things that matter to me seem a quiet voice that I've never been able to truly believe in. Why? It seems easier to believe and be what others already are. A path walked and proven... It's overwhelming in those moments when I realize life isn't a series of paths that we can choose from but more like a forest, field, ocean, valley, and any step is possible. I could live like a fly moves, erratic, self-crossing; completely, absurdly free! And where do I start? And where do I move on from there? I am forced to take one step at a time and choose all over again every moment. Until my life is made up of an infinity of choices that start at one point and end up somewhere so unpredictable.

I'm going out for a walk. And I don't think I'll come back again.