Homecoming

Sometimes people end up exactly where they need to be. I wish there were some sort of rhyme or reason to it. From what I can figure out tho, there is none whatsoever. Some folks claim that they might have the answer — but they’re merely trying to make the chaos fit inside a wonderful little box that tries to explain everything away.

That’s not how it works. In fact, the box rarely manages to contain it all. And no matter how ornate and jewel encrusted that box is, it will never compete with or match the complexity and level of detail of the chaos trapped inside. Nor will it have an acceptable answer when pressed with anything more than innocent, childlike questions. Suspension of disbelief won’t work here. It requires too much faith.

The fact of the matter is, circumstances occur and people change. Stories can’t be written before they’re done being told. Actually, they can be. But if you don’t give yourself enough distance between you and the source material, it’ll end up coming out all wrong. All the changes that end up happening to the characters along the way are for the better. They end up accelerating the plot. Driving it forward. If you want to ask me to trust in the box you’ve tried to go and put my world into, I should be able to ask you to let yours out for a barefoot jog on my wave worn shores.

I’m not that type of person tho. I can’t make someone try something that I know contrasts so harshly with their world view. In fact, I don’t even like thinking it’s expected of me. I want someone who needs me to be true to myself more than anything. Someone who doesn’t have to try to be somebody else in order to make me happy. If we do that, all we’ve done is wear masks because we’re afraid of being alone. So I walk away.

And that brings me here. Exactly where I need to be.

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