Fun Family & Good Friends – that's what life should be about

Sometimes, There Is No Meaning But Meaning Itself

I like to look for the meaning of things; it’s just what I do.  I like things that are connected (one of the reasons I love Stephen King books – the most recent has a fun little crossover with ‘It’).  I like hidden little Easter Eggs waiting to be found.  I like to believe in the good of people, even the ones who do really bad things.  I like to believe that I am a person worth loving.  I like to think that everything happens for a reason.

I want to believe that every thing I’ve been through – the last year (the best worst year of my life), the three years before that (swimming upstream), and the fourteen years before that (living with the regret of the one that got away) – hasn’t all been for nothing.

Sure, I can do the enlightened thing and tell myself that the lessons I’ve learned are extremely valuable, to myself, and to my future.  But let’s cut the bullshit.  What those ‘lessons’ boil down to, is that there is no meaning in any of it.  It was all a waste of time, effort, energy, and emotion.  I fought a war that didn’t change anything, didn’t need to be fought.  I tried to rebuild bridges that went nowhere anyone wanted to go.  I thought I saw meaning where there was none.  Wrong on all counts.

I’ve spent hours, days, weeks, months searching for the why, the how, the what of how it all went so very, very wrong.  I’ve driven my friends crazy asking them, and I’ve learned who not to ask after being told all my problems will magically go away soon so what was my issue?

It’s that stupid eternal hope that I just can’t seem to kill within me.  Every time I throw my hands in the air and try to walk away from the quest for meaning that stupid little voice says ‘don’t give up, don’t listen to the mountain of logic that tells you everything that you believe in is a lie’ and I listen to that stupid little voice and continue on my merry way, bashing my head against the brick wall as I go on searching for meaning.  Because to stop searching for meaning goes against my nature.  I would have to stop believing in the good nature of people, love, the romance and wonder of the universe.

Walking away means accepting things I don’t want to accept.  It means accepting that someone I have cared about for over half of my life didn’t care enough to not walk away from a life with me.  It means that someone I was closer to than anyone else in my life doesn’t think enough of me to stay in my life.  It means that someone I respected has no respect for me.  It means that someone I opened my heart and soul to, didn’t want it.  And if I was so easy to walk away from, what does that say about me?  Those are my lessons, thank you, they are now carved into my heart and not about to be forgotten any time soon.

I get it.  Message received.  No meaning here.

 

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