*bounce*

Lately I’ve been going back and rereading old posts on here; I’ve always had some misplaced notion that it’s logical to see where I’m going by looking at where I’ve been. I guess it’s not all that uncommon to do that, but that doesn’t mean it makes any real sense. I mean, if you do nothing but look in the rear view when you drive it will take all of five seconds before you crash—miss a turn, barrel head first into a wall, hit someone else. Looking back to look forward only works if you’ve got an extra pair of eyes in the back of your head.

But at the same time, lessons from the past are important to learn, right? So, if that’s true, but the above paragraph is also true, how do we reconcile that? The logical answer is probably something along the lines of do both simultaneously. In one of my recent posts I made mention of the people that seem to be able to do that, the people that adjust course as they go, but even with that attitude it’s still easy to fall into a trap of going to extremes. If you concentrate only on the details you miss the overall point, but if you just see the big picture, you miss the little intricacies that make the journey worth it in the first place. There aren’t too many situations in life where the ends justify the means, but like it or not, the means justifies the ends every time.

More often than not we find what we look for, but to apply arbitrary quantifications to something unquantifiable, that doesn’t make what we look for right.

I’ve always been one to purposely blur the lines if I couldn’t erase them altogether.

Walk the edge until it crumbles and you fall, because the thrill is in the falling and the water is always deeper than you think.

I don’t tend to forget that I know how to swim.
Do you?
And why?
To both the statement and the question.

We stand next to things but don’t really see them—all the time. We skirt the issues. We run away. We close our eyes and plug our ears and we breathe at the risk of taste and smell. Because it’s safe. Because if we put ourselves in a bubble we don’t see that bubble as a cage. And we bounce. Bounce. Bounce off our own truth shrouded in lies. And we’re waiting for...what? The pop? For the bloodbath when we impale ourselves not on the lies, but on the truth? I’m not saying I don’t do it myself, but god knows I don’t see the appeal.

I’m rambling again.
Asking myself the same question: is there something worthwhile here?
Something worthwhile for me?
And why?

It’s too early in the morning for this, and I can just tell that it’s going to be that kind of day.