I was digging through some old posts and I found this one that never got posted for some reason:
I'm an obsessive journalist. I write down e v e r y t h i n g that happens to me- as it happens. You can find almost all my important thoughts stuffed into binders and boxes in my room. It's really important for me to build life perspective. I do this by writing down what I feel and then digging it back up again six months later and reading about it.
There are parts of my life that aren't important anymore.
Those parts get edited out.
Every life is a story and every story has parts to it- good parts, bad parts, happy parts, sad parts.
Every person has to live through good times and bad times.
Every person has to cry... every person wants something and is brutally crushed in the process...
Everyone faces disappointments.
The end is NOT THE BEGINNING- IT'S THE END FOR A REASON. Where you start with is not where you'll end up.
Your life today is not what it will be tomorrow.
Every person has to face this- there are conversations that will lead you nowhere, people that will get you nothing, and stupid, stupid accidents that serve no other purpose than to make your life harder.
This is the part of your story that gets edited out.
Those things don't really matter anymore.
So you're wondering what that picture up there has anything to do with this. I was burning some old papers in the fire pit. They were mostly letters that I wrote to people I was angry with.
Letters I was too cowardly to send because I knew what a waste of time it was being angry with those people.
Burning old thoughts, for me, is liked editing my life.
I don't want to be angry with those people anymore.
All those people I wrote letters to have left me and my life FAR BEHIND.
Some of those people that I cared about SO MUCH are no longer my friends. They are gone, and I can cry about it, but that's the only thing I can do about it.
It feels like I WASTED SO MUCH TIME ON THEM.
The ashes of my ex-life are just that- nothing but ashes.
I dwell on those ashes. I scoop them up into a bottle and save it on a shelf. I coddle them, stroke them, and love them more ardently then I love the other things in my life-
The real things of life.
The friends that I do have.
The man who really loves me.
The dreams that are actually realized in my life.
The promises that have been kept.
These are my reality. And to think that I would trade that reality for a handful of ashes and soot...
Just like there is nothing today that you can save for tomorrow, so there is nothing behind you that you can keep for today.