I can't play guitar right now.
There are a lot of songs sitting inside my head slowly fading away because I can't get them out and on paper. This stupid broken hand that has been screwed back together is slow to heal and I know that when it does it will be all the stronger, since it has been messed up for a while now (the sad result of unleashed fury upon wood doors). I have a hard time waiting until that day I can form a chord and place lyrics to music that will most likely never find its way to any one's ears but mine.
Or maybe it will.
The thought of playing in front of people scares me and I have a tendency to run from things that scare me, but there is a change happening. I have been seeing things differently recently. Running from fear has been holding me back from so many things. Living in the known, like hiding under blankets, is comfortable and warm but it only blocks out the life that is going on everyday all around me. For years I have been skirting the the issues I needed to see, avoided the issues lying inside of me because I have been afraid to see them. I have been afraid of my feelings and my baggage and my past indiscretions. More recently, I have been locked up inside my walls which I hastily erected to protect my heart from the war going on around me because of me.
I holed up behind old habits when the emotions that I had locked down for so long broke through the cracks in my old walls. I don't blame my self for hiding behind well tested defenses, but the walls tend to obscure my vision of all the things around me. Even as I begin to step outside, the world is shaded in grays. I still want to hide. I am not used to this thing where I feel something and have to face it. I can't seem to shove things down anymore, no matter how much I want to. But this is what we do. We protect ourselves from the ravages of life that find our front door. Right?
Even as I write that, I don't fully believe it.
The woman that died last week battled with Cancer for 1000 days. I don't doubt that she had days where she hid herself from the world. But, from what I understand, she spent most of her days living the best she could. The odds of her dying were better than the chances of her living, but she took the odds and told them to fuck off. She chose to see the good in life and she traveled and got married and wore colorful wigs. Her aunt spoke at her funeral and said that if she could relive her past 1000 days, she would live them differently. I have to agree with that sentiment. But I can't look at the days that have gone by already. It is the next 1000 days that matter now.
I am still hurt and scared and scarred. I find it hard now to say that and not feel ashamed.
In my next 1000 days I am going to write my songs and play them for people. They may not be very good, but I don't know that it really matters. I am not doing it so that I will be making records and touring with Eddie Vedder. I am going to get out of this debt and go to school again. I am going to write a horror movie. I am going to do things. Knowing myself, what those things are will change, but I will do whatever it is that my heart decides upon. I guess the thing to remember is that I may not even get 1000 days. I could end up with ten or ten-thousand. I have been broken for a while now, but it does seem that I am healing and am seeing things more clearly than I have before. I don't have the ability to ignore myself anymore. I have to see myself for who I am and that is scary. But I have to do things that scare me. It's how we grow and I really do want to grow.
I am coming out of this stronger than I was and without the help of metal screws. That's good, right?
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