I'm building my house wherever I damn well please.

Stumbling

There’s a momentary panic that sets in when a displaced past is brought forward for remembrance. As the rogue memory steps onto the stage of consciousness, lucidity becomes a rising curtain as confusion sets the stage and self delineation is disrupted with the incongruities of the past. A little uncertainty never hurt anyone, which is good, because uncertainty fills the surrounding seats, packing the house as each individual doubt slowly takes a seat. As the mistruths of memory replace forgotten spaces, the characters in this play get a little more complex. The world doesn’t fit well inside the of a skull, so even as the memories are wrapping up you’ve already covered them in a light gloss and dulled the edges for easier consumption. Tomorrow a coat of paint, and some time with a sander will render it blunt and then the patiently built life can continue on as before. Tomorrow we can forget old stepping stones and stumbling blocks and reaffirm our belief in the here and now. Tell ourselves who and what we are. The past is past and we move on so we may become what we may eventually be, whatever that may be. However just now, just for now, remember that not everything went as hoped, remember the pains and remember the trials, and remember that all smooth surfaces and solid stones hide a multitude of cracks underneath.