Only one

"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."


"It's a shame that we have to live, but it's a tragedy that we get to live only one life."

-Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Regret

The tragedy of life is that we only have one. I know, or rather I assume, that every human being lives with some amount of regret. We are only one person, and only capable of doing so much, seeing so much, accomplishing so much, striving after so many goals--we are always left with things not done, not seen, not accomplished and goals not had. What are we to do with these maddening regrets? The knowledge that because we chose to live one life and thus missed out on another life that perhaps could have been is--in short--insanity. If we live thus, rather if I live thus, I will go mad. I do feel it is a constant battle, however, to embrace the life one has chosen. There is always the haunting question--"what if?" That is the nature of regret, but that does not have to be the nature of life...we are left then with choice--the demon that began it all. We must choose.

A look

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and that is all too true. The eyes communicate great depth of emotion. They betray the looker and divulge infinitely more than words could speak. A single look can impart extreme love or extreme hatred and every extreme in between. A glance of indifference can send an anxious lover to the grave. A judgemental eye can pierce the heart of a friend and wound the soul beyond repair. There is a great deal encompassed within a mere look, the scars of which are not easily erased...a look is worth a thousand words.

Associations

All things have associations. You associate being sick with that Chinese food which induced two days of vomiting. You associate that tattered grey T-shirt of yours with your best friend who selflessly gave it to you despite its importance to her. You associate the smell of pine needles with Christmas and cold weather. Everything possesses some sort of an association. I place keen associations on many things, but two things specifically--music and clothing. I strongly mark the periods or eras in my life by my clothing and the music connected with that time--and it is always progressive--it is always moving forward, never backward--that's the rule. I tend to buy, wear, grow and discard. My growth as a person, as an individual prevents me from retaining the clothes of a "former era" due to the fact that it has been "tainted" by my past and equally so by my former-self. I grow and I must change--literally. Making sense? No matter...it stands thus. Music, in my mind, possesses a similar quality of association. I am, however, slowly learning to overcome this neuroticism regarding music. Driving for me and listening to music formally "tainted" by past experiences, relationships, has become a very cleansing experience--clearing my palate if you will--allowing the music to exist new and unmolested by the past. All things possess associations, some normal, some not.

Being sick...

Being sick is a funny thing--sometimes. I am not very sick at present, only a little sick, but still sick. Nonetheless, this "being sick" creates a mindset which permits people certain freedoms that they would otherwise not allow themselves--it's true. We think, "I can eat that" or "I can sleep as long as I want" or perhaps "I don't have to go to work today--because gosh darn it--I'm sick." As we walk along the grocery store aisles looking for medicine, throat mildly sore and body feeling weak, we spot chocolates, sweets--things we would not consider if we were not, well--sick. "Being sick" somehow creates this pathetic sorrow for oneself--because, we say, "I'm sick. I deserve it." It's not true...

The Sleeping Monster

They are odd things--insecurities. They lie dormant and silent, but lethal and waiting. They are tricky in that they often make you believe you have bested them, subdued their ferocity, but you are sadly deceived. They have only lulled you into a false sense of security, when truly they are growing in power, might and intensity while you function and live unawares. Then, one day, they arise more tenacious and ugly than you ever could have expected and crush what you believed were strong spirits. They can arrive with a new person, a new place or a new swim suit--doesn't matter--they will take what they can get...

The Lady in Red

She hobbles along the side of the road, her small frame bent with age. Her lower jaw is set out and forward, determined yet patient in her course. Her face is a weathered brown, decorated by deep set wrinkles about her eyes and mouth. Her gait is painful; she seems to be favoring her right leg. She is wearing red. Everyday she wears red: a red skirt, or red blouse, or red shoes, or jewelry--everyday something is always red. Each morning I observe this her tranquil journey past the streets of downtown San Antonio and I wonder, who is the lady in red...?