More Rubbish

I don’t know if I’m ready. I’m not ready, I’m sure of it. I guess I could pretend to be ready and that might work. Once, in church, a long time ago, the pastor told us to fake being happy in order to find happiness. It was kind of like having faith to search for faith, or something of the matter. In ways, it worked, and so I’m faking the readiness that I need.

On your mark, get set and go! Is that good enough for you?

Okay, so we have tried that exercise and now off to something a little more interesting-or not-probably not.

It’s now moving into the New Year, oh whoop-de-doo. I have no resolutions, in fact, I have nary an idea, to be honest. This year may well be like the next, filled with wilted dreams and faded attempts to make monumental changes. I guess it could be a failure, yes. I do think it could. But, what if…

Nah, let’s not get hopes up. I have come to a place that is thoroughly unsatisfying. It is a place that keeps sadness close in order to avoid sadness. It’s like the opposite of finding faith with faith and being ready with readiness…or something like that. The whole idea is if you remain in the gloom then the gloom cannot hurt you.

To tell you the truth, I have no idea what I’m talking about. The thing is, my head is full and unfiled. There are thoughts racing round with no destination or reasoning. Today, I realized, once more, that I would die. I felt my death moving forward and there was no stopping it. I saw the pictures in the album today. In one picture, my grandmother was young, beautiful, and the next she was bent and contorted into something else. I watched my aunt transform this way. I will transform this way, will I not? Sometimes, I think I am exempt, that surely I cannot die. I see the world from within some safe bubble, watching others grow old and fade into nothing. That’s what we do, isn’t it? We fade into nothing and we are forgotten. Yes, maybe we are mentioned in a story or two, in a joke or a memory between sips of coffee. But for the most part, we will one day have no place here, and what of it?

It’s just a rock, right. In comparison, we never were anything to begin with. So, you see, I’m not ready to move on. I’m not trying to ready myself with readiness. I am trying to stay in the cocoon. I scream at the thought of writing, and I scream at the silence that envelopes me. I cannot give anyone an explanation that would suffice.

I know what the pastor said, and I understand. To believe in God, is to want to believe in God. If you want to have faith then you already have faith. If you want to be ready, then you must believe you are ready.

But I am still not ready and I cannot make myself believe.

Not today.