on the fence

Mistakes are expected in life on the simple fact that we're human. And depending on how we're hardwired to function, others mistakes are sufficient enough; but often, we have to make our own. This is expected. Whether you were made by a man and woman because of a night of heavy, hot, and sweaty lovemaking, or due to doctors initializing your creation in a petri dish - we came from a woman's womb and she birthed us one way or another. So, we're supposed to make mistakes, have slip ups, do some things the wrong way to discover the right way.

But there comes a point and place in life when these mistakes become foolish and most times, selfish decisions that we think for one reason or another, will never catch up to us. Yet, when they do, we become defensive and don't know how to deal.

We cause pain to those who we know, without a shadow of doubt or an inkling of reservation, love us to their core. We do to them what we know we ought not to. What we know, quite possibly that if and when these selfish decisions we call mistakes reach the shorelines of their existence, they may not return as the individual we've always known them to be. Yet, we still decide to slip up.

"Mistakes" are preventable. Because they are decisions made by adults who have enough cognizance to know the difference between right and wrong, have just as much ability to walk away as they do to engage in such decisions.

But, consequences are a part of this human life too. So if and when that person who loves you to their core builds up enough power and strength to leave well enough alone, and decide for themselves that they deserve more and better, this is a consequence to your mistakes. And you can't be upset. Nor angry. Nor frustrated. Unless, it is with yourself.

This is no on the fence issue. This is no maybe or what if issue. This is about life and about when the people who we trust to do us right, doesn't do so. When the person who is done wrong, eventually has no choice but to move on, or drown in their own misery for staying.

You're Not the Man

When we're young, we do crazy things.
And when we get older, those crazy young things become stupid old things.

This is the best way to describe he and I. Crazy young decisions that had not outgrown us (though they should have) with perhaps no regard for age, growth, or expansion. No recognition of what it means for old things (and older individuals) to remain where they lie. The possible consequences. The possibility to end what is or what was or what could have been to find out what temporary tastes like. Like waking a sleeping giant and expecting it to be gentle and calm. Expecting it to be humble and changed. Expecting its outlook to mirror your own.

These are possibly the best ways to describe he and I.He and I weren't even enough to become "us" or "we". That's how temporary it all was.

We were young when we first crossed paths; hadn't even hit our twenties. Still in transition from childhood to adulthood. And still naive. Still doing what satisified our individual selves and with no responsibility outside of school and work. We enjoyed the non-responsibility of our then lives. We simultaneously taught and learned much from one another. Fun and convienence are the best ways to describe our thinking. But eventually our paths split, familiarity became distance, and time well spent became distant memories. Phone numbers changed just as our ages and focuses on life had. We morphed into new individuals. But old young things followed us so that they would become new stupid old things.

It's a known fact that sometimes in life we have to test waters that we know are not safe for us. We feel the need to enter territories that we know we ought not to. Just to see what it's like as we knowingly toss common sense aside.

And that's what we did. And continued to do. Before I knew it, I realized none of it made any sense to me. And it made no sense just to keep him, it, the situation, or the madness in tact just for the fun of it. Because at the end of the day, if I can't call or reach out when I really need your full, undivided attention, then I don't really need you around. And that's what it came to. I came to realize that just like our pre-twenties, and pre-responsibilities, just like the prefaces to the many chapters that would follow, there's always an ending. And it didn't matter how many times or in how many ways we called ourselves rewinding the clock or attempting to relive then, it was already over, and was over long before it even began.

It didn't matter how many times I attempted to correlate my likeness of his swagger to the traits and qualities that I believe a man should have, he wasn't it. He was not and is not and will not ever be that man. And more importantly, not the man for me. He was not and is not and will not ever be the man willing to bleed for me, live for me, give his last breathe to save for me. He wasn't then, isn't now, and thus, will not ever be that man I somehow managed to misconstrue his image to make myself believe he was.

Sade - You're Not the Man by theresaclark1987

Throwing Stones & Breaking Houses

..."The person who is sinless should be the first to throw a stone at her." John 8:7

Many, most, if not all of us have been reared on or have at least heard the saying let he without sin cast the first stone, at some point in our lives. We too at some point (or several), have found ourselves standing at both ends of the spectrum. We've played the stone thrower and the stone catcher. We have judged and been judged. And without it being said, many of us are more comfortable playing the stone thrower, than we are being the stone catcher. Obviously.

There's a particular uncomfortable stance that someone, that you or I, have to withstand in order to be the stone catcher. A certain body cast. A particular frame of mind and even, a certain outlook on both the situation and life. To be able to focus on and think about the right later instead of the right now; to be able to look past versus looking at. And I say all of this because just as it is easier to play one role, I too, have and sometimes cast stones I have no right or privy to do so.

Judgement, is a very dangerous turf. As permission, often has not been granted to us to do so.

I sat, listening to words being hurled at me and in a blink of an eye, I realized, however full of emotion these sentiments were, they were not being stated out of love or concern. They by far were not being said with careful consideration or with only an ounce of opinion or judgement. Words, are far more dangerous than actions or reactions. Words, can divide and conquer nations just as they can piece them back together again like Humpty Dumpty's shattered body. The tongue, is far more dangerous than the sword; and this, we often forget.

But I sat through these brash words and questioned, where the fuck is the love?! Where was the I respect your decision(s) regardless of how much I may disagree? In this one-sided conversation, none of this existed, nor mattered. Surprisingly, the forever swimming Pisces in me did not show her watercolors. She did not fill and then combust with tears. Nope. Not this time. Frustration and anger, hurt and a harsh realization is all that consumed her. It wasn't worth the tears nor argument, the bickering or expletives and namecalling that was being hurled from front to back, and back again. Nope. Not this time. It wasn't even worth calling a truce and calling it a day. It wasn't worth agreeing to disagree and shaking hands and air kissing cheeks to leave the battle done. Nope. Not this time.

At some point, the choosing, picking up, and hurling, tossing, throwing, of objects - whether words, stones, or fists, has to stop.

At some point, the self-made decisions to judge the choices and resolutions, the conclusions and denouements of others, has to stop.

At some point, to be humble and modest, however much it may cause us to clinch teeth, ball hands into tightly concealed knots, swallow complete words or half sentences, all has to began. To involve ourselves and consequently throw in our whole dollars, half dollars, twenty-five, or measly two cents, needs to come to an end.

So let these words, with no judgement, no opinions, no imaginary pennies, nickles, dimes, or quarters being thrown into your wishing well, let this all sink in. Because all glass houses eventually crack and crumble.