a thousand names.

Illusions. Like my bank account, and that guy I was going to marry once; like my job, my car, and Christmas. I was looking at old pictures last night, and it made me feel as though I've lived a hundred lives in the same place without a single common thread. I don't think this is good or bad. I don't seem to be repeating any patterns, in that none of them were the same in any way that I can reasonably identify. Except maybe that I fall right the fuck down and always find a way get back up. Even then, it's never the same.

Sometimes I jump up, brush the dirt off real quick, and manage to gather enough grace to make it look like it never happened. Those times, I don't look back. Other times, not so much. Some things take a long time to get over. Everybody knows this.

So while I'm halfway upright at the tail end of one of the very long time things, I'm also at the starting edge of yet another time of my life. I think that this time will be good, just like all of the other times were good or better. I think this because I choose to give the gone wrongs their proper due and then let them go rather than applying adjectives to myself that indicate there will never be another good time. Adjectives like scarred, or hurt, or damaged. Fractured. Those words are just excuses not to say yes to yet another lifetime, common thread or none. I may not be voicing an emphatic yes, but it's a yes nonetheless.

My advice to me. Never punch a gift horse in the mouth.