It’s been a long couple of weeks. In a way, I did too much too fast, but I could feel time running out on me. There were a couple days I relaxed, and went to the beach, but most days were a whirlwind of food, friends, and all the emotional chaos that comes with reconnecting to my past.
It’s as hard for me to look back as it is to look forward. I have a pretty good idea of who I am at this point, but I don’t really know who I was or who I will be. Looking back is often more depressing than joyful, because of what I’ve lost as much as because of my failings. I never really got around to looking forward, because of a half assed nihilism as much as a fear that all my plans would fall apart.
Looking back, I wonder about what was as nerdily as I can, through the possibility of time travel. In general, I wouldn’t want to because I couldn’t live my life as who I am now, and I would lose too many important memories. I’d rather nothing changed than to lose those fragments of my life. I wonder though, could I even try to live that life, lying to everyone about who I am, having to deal with people without judging them for what they would do. And what if I stopped them? If you stop a man from killing, is he still guilty? Did he hold the intent, and the will? Will he try to do it again?
I think of the relationships I’ve had, and how much love and pain is a part of all of them. Can you have one without the other? The yin and the yang, not dark and light but just dual energy, existing together and mixing with one another. Pain is no less valuable than joy unless the balance is not right.
The last two days I was in San Diego, I spent one day sleeping and watching Netflix. I went to the beach alone, wished I had brought my camera, and fought against the six foot waves. The next day I spent five hours with the Dancer, two with Cabineter, stopped by the herb shop for dinner and dirty jokes, trained in Wing Chun for a couple hours, drove up to see the Herald, then went to see Ghost in the Shell with the Peon. I loved every stressful minute of it, and I didn’t want any of those conversations to end.
I wanted the life I had left behind before I left for Mexico. I wanted the love and pain that was so comfortable to be mine again. I abandoned that life to find a new place in the world, to escape the ordinary and become… I don’t know. Something? Nothing? Someone amazing, glorious, or special? To find a life of meaning?
I don’t really know why I left in the end. I know it made sense then, and I know I am happier now than I was then, but I will never really know what caused the misery or the joy. I don’t think it was the people, and there are a few I find myself trying to cling to. To be honest, I think I was trying to cling to all of them.
My time is short, and in a couple months I will be in another world, one I can’t really imagine yet. I don’t know what I’ll become, or what the pain and joy will be, but I can remember the importance of balance. Hell has not seen, nor Heaven created, the one who can prevail against me.