May 15, 2015 § Leave a comment
“Fear is the heart of love.” – I will follow you into the dark – Death Cab for Cutie
Should the responsibility ever be mine I wouldn’t sugar the pill. I’d look them in the eyes, tell them straight: There’s no justice here. Don’t expect it. I’ve heard it said by many mouths that a man makes his own luck, I’ve found this to be true. Add to list of things a man makes justice. The rich craft their own, the middle classes fight, the poor take what’s thrust upon them. “There’s no shining super heroes here son” I’d say as I prepared him for the fight and desperate times ahead. “Look to your friends, fight for your loved ones, scream if you have to, die if you have to.” Trouble with advice is that for those giving it it’s too late and it’s lost on those listening, just as it was lost on the advice giver the first time around. That’s all this is really. A fucked up carousel spinning on it’s axis through space all the time swinging fists, drinking shots, shouting loud, making an impression. A man makes his own impression.
In that moment I wanted fear. I wanted that feeling back, it’d been so long. I’d got so comfortable. I want that feeling that takes you and makes you flex and twist and scream and do things you don’t want to. That feeling that makes you turn tail and run. That fear of conquering it. The beautiful heart dropping moment when you lose control of the situation. When you become a passenger to the momentum around you. The bliss of the ignorance as the responsibility leaves with the control.
Hell, I could hit my stride from here. Writing sober again, who’d have thought? There goes my excuse. There goes my reason.