Does it always fall apart and the coalesce into something new again?
Yes, I suppose it does.
I'm ashamed of myself. My irresolution seems to have yet again caused pain. If I could stay the course and have no regrets, I suppose it would be like the bandaid being pulled off quickly, yet I seem intent on pulling the bandaid off slowly then slapping it back on then pulling it.
I must imagine the one and the zero, but then I think of .0987, .123, .845... Gray within white and black. Going back up the cliff would be a challenge. Would I find what was there before? Of course not. Would I walk back to my village and be welcomed again by all those who said farewell? Wouldn't I be pissed at myself?
I'm pissed at myself for clinging to the damn dirt and that one little tree that was growing perpendicular upon which I grabbed. I'm chagrinned that I didn't jump and swan dive to the infinity. I'm dirty and clinging.
Again, I got a bit o'hell for writing to you more than I talk to the ones that I love. This is something understandable however, n'est ce pas?
It really doesn't matter to you if I lie - if I paint the picture the way I want to see it. You are just there listening to me. You are my black hole. You don't talk back to me. You just look at me and are passive.
Talking means being called on it. Talking means pain.
I was just relating (in the previous post) I moment of weakness. As all of us know, having written it, we often feel absolved and different - a moving on.
I jumped and now I'm climbing back up because I don't want to fall down the cliff bouncing on the outcrops and rocks. I want to climb back up so I can jump again. Perhaps there will be water down there. I hear it's like concrete when you land on it, but I have a thought that if I hold my body straight like a knife that I can cut through....