The Sore Places

It is very odd, and funny, though not always in a humorous way, the places in which we find ourselves. The lives that we have come through, some under our direction and some by other forces. We always have a choice, but sometimes only in the way we react to life. Today is a good day for the most part, a new start, so they say…though it is not much different than the last or the one a year ago. We are what changes, and then things around us move in response. The sore places bother me today. The sore places show us where we need to do work.

This is not the life that I wanted nor expected. I am not alone in this, and I think it happens more often than not. I’ve had many days, or at least evenings, alone, having the ability to do what I chose. I choose to put more time and effort into what feels like an unending burden, the Sarlacc pit, where I’ll be digested slowly over a thousand years. It is the ingratitude as I mortgage my soul, wasting the precious time that I have left hoping for that glorious after-house-life. It is not the house, per se, it is all the things tied to it, the inability to make it into the vision held once long ago…to build a life, to have a home. This place is uncomfortable to all of us…seems at times to have a mind of its own. and then the pangs of my ingratitude set in.
I have an odd faith…akin to the fervor of my forebears, though without the doctrine and with no desire to indoctrinate. I have a purer belief, a purer truth and it is navigated by the heart and soul…It is hard to live half a life, which I lived most of the years that I have been on this earth. Because I learned the important things last and now some days it has me beside myself.

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