do you ever ponder what could have been? topicality isn’t really an issue. the snowball of fantasies touches all lands, propels every sea, and soars the infinite blue skies of our mind. i wonder what relationships would’ve lasted if i had understood what retrospect taught me after the fact. i scold myself for failing to implement smarter music publication strategies, confident that a fresh perspective and push could have brought in more listeners. i’m stopped on the street, not by panhandlers, but from the force of my regrets, their choral arrangement permeating lows, mids, and highs. i’m stuck on the conversations i could’ve had before death did us part, figuratively and otherwise.
this is the corner of a disappointing turn, when instead of following my gut, i chose to accept temptation. the hermit begged to crawl back into its shell, confident another opportunity would arise. but when i looped around, the straightaway was cut short. redemption a dead end.
then guilt steps in and there i am, grass-stained knees poking through ripped jeans. i realize i’m not getting my life returned, at least not half of what it was.
coming to terms takes time, stretching far past the date of happenstance. but for as long as it stutters to rumble and growl, it hogs an exponential factor of that to compile the cycles of negativity. because i should have known to choose the right path. i mean, is that even a fair assumption? i’d prefer to believe so, apparently.
this is why i attempt to move on from personal history by meditating to the present or escaping to the future. it hones in focus and helps prioritize a productive lifestyle. those two states of everlasting ticks and tocks are a beneficial source to carry, advantage being they can be seen as positive as you’d dream they be.
the past, on the other five appendages, exposes all the cracks and rot beneath a fresh layer of paint. there are your actions and consequently, their impact. did i think of my neighbors before myself? not as much as was pleaded. did i try to close the gap between my family and me? i barely took the lead. am i still alone? in some respects, no.
Cognitive-behavioral therapy instructs you on how to parry those poor judgements with a characterization and its negative photo. But is the edge you’re scarred from a hazard, or does it up the stakes?
By drawing hurt from previous interactions, the current moment corrals urgency. because, like the stars themselves, that original dread will repeat itself many more meteor strikes. to crackle with purpose by the intention of saving my future victims, there’s a certain type of calling. with each creation i approach, there will be a component meant to unite people around their purposely-hidden ailments. the way we’re built, we obviously do better in groups.
i still forget that, but am reminded when i search for others stranded on that four-by-four raft. so despite the gut-wrenching twists, my mistakes are an irresistible expectancy. maybe i am, with twisted black magic, performing cbt.
– D K T