Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Tuesday, 16 July 2019
A Neurotic Warrior Poet
I had a wistful chuckle at the internet's most dangerous warrior poet this morn. Seems he is coming up fast on the empty nest. Kids are off to school or starting their own lives and it sounds like he might be getting left behind in the dust. He needn't worry; they'll come back. Guys like that don't have anything to worry about. It makes me chuckle to think I fretted the same way he did light years ago. Boy, did I ever miss the boat on that one!
I've been binge watching Popps on OyTube off and on. His nest is emptier than mine, even, and he made some statements that just kicked me right in the head. He said that whenever you sustain an internal injury (call it something metaphysical like karma, or a broken heart or a soul) - you can expect it to take 7 years to heal. I now go entire days without thinking dark thoughts and I can seem to catch myself when they come upon me. I find myself getting ready to turn a chapter in my own life: the baggage is starting to fall away. I've had a lot of people living rent free in my head and they're finally starting to leave. I am not sorry to see them go. Maybe in some other alternate universe we are all still together and happy. Maybe this one could have been like one of those had the cards fallen differently.
There is still so much to learn about this mortal coil upon which I shuffle. Loneliness no longer frightens me. You can love people from a distance just fine. And maybe, through some quantum worm-hole in the space/time continuum... maybe they can love ya back, after a fashion.
May your next 7 years be good ones.