Friday Thoughts: Memories

When you're someone that spends two hours per day on the road, five days per week, facing just under ninety miles of windy, deer-infested, redneck overrun mountain roads, there comes a point in your journey when the landscape melds together into a cacaphonous symphony of utter boredom. It's that time when your driving senses go into autopilot mode and you find yourself lost in a void of thoughts, desparately wishing for someone to break the monotony of the moment. I treasure these times. For these are the moments that I can lose myself in the annals of my own subconscious, the time when I can focus my thoughs as sharp as a razor and give birth to earth-shattering ideals and philosophies, most of which will never see the light of day. It is this time that I take to reflect on the past, the present, and the future. I live in a world governed by chaos; in fact, I am chaos...yet it is these few precious moments that help me to rise above the humdrum of contemporary life and take control of the only thing that truly belongs to me, my mind. For the sad truth of my existence is that this two-hour commute is the closest a person of my disposition will ever arrive to Nirvana on earth.

From the shadows of my fragmented, selective, imperfect memories I re-live events that have long since become lost in the sands of time. These few memories are all I have to remind me of who I was, where I came from, and what I've loved. Sometimes my memories torture me, other times they make me laugh, but many times they bring anger and shame to my heart. Am I a good person? do I impact those around me in a positive way? do those that I am closest to truly love me? Many times I find my thoughts straying toward these questions, yet I can never seem to find the correct answer. But, as I proceed through these epochs of my existence, I find that the answers become less and less important and I can only strive to be the best person that my heart and my soul will allow me to be.

I have done much wrong in my relatively short life, I have hurt others around me, as much as they have hurt me--yet, I find myself still paying the price for my transgressions. Does this mean that I am beyond reprieve? or does it simply mean that the soul that lives within this fragile shell will not forgive itself for things of the past? I have not the answer to this conundrum that has become the bane of my existence. I suppose it makes no sense to question these things, for I'm simply a man, and I have no time to dwell on such trivialities. For I must continue to live, though I will forever be a flawed spirit.

{nuff said}