I guess you can say I’ve been “blessed” with the ability to articulate my thoughts onto the screen. Like some poet in reverse I can describe the many splintered thoughts that cross my mind. For the most part I don’t mind exploring the murky waters that surround my soul. Call it the fatalist in me, but I am often fascinated with my own inadequacies. Relishing in my own shortcomings like some blessed badge of honor. Some of us just enjoy being different I guess. We find solace in the slight imperfections that make us unique.
So in this season of discomfort I walk the broken pier that is my life. Looking out over the low tide I see the mud and the muck that lies just below the surface. It ain’t pretty and it certainly doesn’t smell good, but it's a subtle reminder of what lies below the shimmering surface. Imperfect yet somehow uniquely mine. I have no defense against my demons other than my sharp tongue and twisted empathy. Long suppressed emotions are but a staple of my diet. I’m too damn long in the tooth to change my spots now. So I won’t pretend to even try anymore. I’ll just continue to star in my own Greek tragedy. Till the tide again changes and I can once again enjoy the sun.