Shattering Thoughts Condensing Against the Lens of Perspective

She knew me as she needed to, comparing my words with strangers; associations to people in her past that looked like me or sounded like me or that tried to love her like I do but failed her, and so I became a failure, held to the ground by her rejection as I let her be what I learned her to be; comparing her to the women that rejected me, spreading words of cold criticism to the strangers in my life…the only ones that ever mattered to me the ones that knew who I truly was, and the only ones that could ever truly hurt me… and they did, and now I worry she will too.

We are only ever to others what others see us to be, the only true friend you can have in the world is yourself, and to be honest that is an area we struggle with. I hold my flaws up to the light with a magnifying glass, paying attention with intense scrutiny as the light focuses into smoking surfaces. Each scar or wrinkle or wart or curve separates me from the rest of the world…though, to be fair, I never look too close at the others that most likely see themselves in this same blistering light.

I am the one true reality, pushed up onto the big screen in my mind, while I watch the rest of existence on low resolution televisions, all around me, too many to count…all somehow better or worse than me because of stereotypes and automatic thinking, as I slowly free one by one from the judgments of a fading paradigm.

Yet, I am not the sage; all knowing, wrapped in wisdom like onion skin, layered in pain and understanding, folded at the joints at the tip of the summit.

I am a man, pushing precariously through the walls of time, moment to moment a whole new world, sometimes sculpted to the exact dimensions and angles as the moment that came just before.

But always ready for the hammer to fall. And to watch the diamond window panes explode into mist, worlds crumbling and tumbling into shards until the fires increase, melting everything to molten white.

To start completely anew. And maybe this time it will all be the same, or maybe this time the rain will cool the glass a little slower, and things will form stronger, and the foundation will stay longer.

No matter the outcome, I must move on. Perhaps to more of the same, or perhaps to complete change as day by day reveals the next page of a story never truly told….and I am but a single book in an exponential epic history of constantly shattering worlds, coalescing into constantly shifting realities.

Yet, I am not the sage; all-knowing…

But merely a watcher behind a shattered window, waiting for the sun.