the nonsensical musings of a clueless twenty something


I am habitually wrong. With the increase of my minutes on this earth comes the increase in my ability to admit these types of things sans cringing. The main problem with my affinity with the false is that it’s beginning to screw things up a bit.

When we were younger, being wrong meant different things. We could screw up and it wouldn’t necessarily set our world on a different path. Bigger decisions have (lately) resulted in larger shifts of the internal and external…creating a bit of directional ineptitude.

Relationships (friendly and otherwise) can and will at times define you. Regardless of how firm you believe your feet are planted inside that safe little soap box…the sucker is permeable. This is not always a negative thing. At times it can simply mean that you are an open-minded and adaptable individual. Other times it means that you went from believing sternly in one thing to participating in something that you never dreamed would pull at you.  Once the haze lifts and the sun shines, crawling under a rock to protect your poor little retinas from the stinging brightness of reality seems both plausible and natural. Standing drunkenly in the middle of a bar with your best friend and sobbing about your own cluelessness seems natural as well.

It’s interesting to me the extent to which the world will go to to show you that no, you are not invincible. No, you do not have all of the answers. No, the way that you typically operate does not work for any and every situation that you will be confronted with in this life. You can’t dodge being hurt, you can’t forge happiness, and shortcuts are a simple way around a complicated issue that will end up resolving itself with or without your permission.

The key here, is that it resolves itself. Without answers, without closure, without any type of indication that this is actually how things are supposed to happen, there is a resolution. We heal because it’s how we were made, to cauterize, fold up, mend. We are made of properties that allow our bodies to move into themselves and deplete the swelling, defeat the invasion, and weld the fissures.

I am thankful for the situations in my life that have required me to call on outlets not typically employed to help the mending process. I think about the decisions that I have made in the last months and how they have changed me and I am grateful. Growth is at times painful, but it is growth nonetheless. It’s a lesson in movement, a process in moving past the moments that could have potentially defined you in a different and even more foreign light.

I don’t know if I’ll ever find out exactly who I am (where’s the fun in that?!)…but I’ve found several hundred things that I’m not. And that’s almost as good.

This entry was published on February 3, 2011 at 2:03 am and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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