in the end, it really doesn't matter
i have to realize sometime that i am not all that wonderful a person. i said some pretty harsh things. i haven't kept in touch with common friends. in fact, all those people have kind of disappeared, as if fallen away entirely from the face of the earth.
is that why there's been no effort to keep in touch? is it karma, or penance? is that why the reasons for disruption seem to be untrue? was it all a lie?
there's a kernel of faith in me that keeps on believing, but it's fading along with the memories.
there's perspective developing as the images fade like old photographs, and while it is not bitter or hateful, it is perhaps too harsh.
there's a desperate desire to keep believing because of the fear of what i would be if it was all a lie, and that desire to believe makes me doubt the belief itself.
but in the end, and please hear me out, but in the end i still believe.
i know how it is that things can seem so bad when they really aren't, because i have been there. it makes me wonder if people really aren't so bad as they seem, if those who would speak cynically of anyone's self-defense are really only afraid of what the truth would show them about themselves, or afraid of being hurt.
or maybe they're right.