Too many times

Rainy morning, rainy day~  And with rain often comes some gloomy ponder time.

Sometimes I think it's too easy for me to break things, to cut things and end things.  There is a bridge crossing the chasm of emptiness between some memories and now.  Made of tattered bars of wood hastily tied together with sturdy rope, it creaks and groans as it fights to stay steady against the blowing wind.  I stand at one end, looking towards the other side.  So easy.  To just end it.  Simply a few strong swipes with a Swiss army knife, a round of well-aimed shots from a pistol-- the bridge would give way and slowly drift downwards, fading away to leave a gaping emptiness between the other side and where I stand.  

Since when did I become so cold?  After hearing the bridge rebound against the cliff with a thwack, I would turn around and walk away to find my own happiness.

I hate depending on other people; this is probably from a few letdowns from the past.  I hate the up-and-downs that comes; I would rather just have a minute up instead of the roller coaster ride of laughter and disappointment.  

I hate when people say things when they don't mean it.  If the meaning is not there, why waste those words?  Why give others a shard of hope to hold onto, to wait for you, to believe in you, to depend on you when you have long forgotten the very syllables you uttered?  It makes me pull my belongings closer and tighter.  I can't believe in words.  They're worthless.

I hate trying to decipher whose words mean what.  What can I believe in?  Spontaneous smiles and unstoppable laughter, twinkling eyes and subtle winks, playful shoves and secret handshakes.  But for those, I have to hold on, to know, to accept that not everyone is as frugal with words as I think they are.  I should stop remembering what people have promised me and drop the hopes of things others have told me to keep.  But it's just so hard to do.

It's tiring, sometimes.  Keeping my word.  Because I don't want to let people down; I don't want people to think that everyone is just hand-waving with their mouths.  Scraps of papers that are scrawled with reminders for me to do things that I said, even if it's as simple as agreeing out of courtesy to bake something after someone says, "You should make that for me!"...  they're all there... sometimes gathering dust, but eventually, I'll blow those dust bunnies away and set out to fulfill my words.

Because it's only a little thing, and that all these little things bound together become something big enough to push against my chest, weigh down upon my shoulders, and squeeze me from the inside, I need to try letting it go.  

Rewind.  There is a bridge crossing the chasm of emptiness between some memories and now.  Made of tattered bars of wood hastily tied together with sturdy rope, it creaks and groans as it fights to stay steady against the blowing wind.  I stand at one end, looking towards the other side.  I spot a fraying section in the thick rope near the edge and kneel down to mend it.  A clumsy knot formed by my fumbling small hands, two tight pulls to seal it, and an exhalation.  Facing the other side, I feel uneasy and unsure.  I place my foot on the first piece of wood and take a deep breath before willing myself to slowly make my way back across.

Life is full of compromise, they say.  And I will compromise.

... and hope that the next time I am standing on my land by the bridge, I won't unravel the rope without a second thought.