There is something small inside of me.
It is a quiet little thing, delicate lace roped around simple memories, smiles. Sunlight.
A tiny little thing waiting to be born, maybe inching it's way slowly out, curiously looking back and forth.
Getting frightened by
the harsh light
and rushing back to it's hiding place. It is too loud and scary out in the real world.
Better off in here,
safely snuggled in my imagination,
where light is always warm, honesty is the only accepted currency, and the good guys will always win.
The dreamers were supposed to inherit the Earth.
Using weapons forged of truth, compassion, creativity, and love,
We were supposed to change things.
I believed one day we would win.
The good guys are always supposed to win.
That quiet little thing inside reminds me of this.
It always reminds me.
I like this little piece of me. I have to strain hard to hear it's plaintive and pleading voice from somewhere deep in my chest.
It gets harder to hear in the stark light of morning, and when the angry things inside have their say.
Little Voice has a name.
At one time it was called Innocence.
... but the good guys don't always win, do they.
Sometimes they do battle for as long as they can,
and then they break.
When the Kings and Queens of Idealism fell in battle
I always imagined the Earth would shake in uncontrollable sobs and heaving sighs.
..but sometimes it is worse. Sometimes there is
no sound
at
all.
Instead of honoring those who championed for a better place with tales and songs of remembrance
there is just quiet.
another one is forgotten.
A light goes out.
Hopefully someone noticed.
My little voice reminds me of a good friend.
Haven't seen him in a few years.
He is a little like me.
As kids,
many soft lit afternoons were spent building a friendship over Nintendo games and
chef salad.
Our worries revolved around getting to the next level in Contra.
There was a lot of laughter back then.
We got older.
We were part of a ragtag band who rode
fearlessly on the backs of their dreams.
We spoke of our futures.
True loves and honest, wholesome families.
Families that didn't fight.
Lovers who loved only us.
We would make our dreams come true with our professions. We were the creative ones.
We were just waiting for life to begin.
We got older.
Something happened.
It was ok, though.
We were still waiting for our real lives to begin.
It was just around the next corner.
We could feel it.
Things happened.
Events unfolded that didn't resemble our fantasies.
I became self-destructive, wallowing in dirty chemical experiences
and becoming more and more familiar with the opposite sex.
It's funny.
I worried less when I was hell bent on hurting myself.
This isn't what I wanted.
This isn't what my friend wanted.
We wanted warm light, and wives who wrap their love around us unconditionally.
Not just until the more interesting or exciting prospect came around.
It was ok, though.
Our dream lives were coming soon.
We were going to be Uncles to each other's kids.
We got older.
One of us gave up. One of us didn't.
I am not sure which is which.
I was always better at playing the game.
He was always the better person, though.
My little voice reminds me it is still there, whispering so softly to me.
It tells me that my dream life is here, but I have forgotten how to see it.
Little voice tells me it is ok to relax. it is ok to rest.
It is ok to be happy this time.
it isn't going to be like those other times.
and if it is then so be it.
you have come this far. Don't give up quite yet.
There is nothing to fear. Everything you ever wanted is right in front of you.
Accept that. Enjoy it.
You are not those that came before you.
You never stopped fighting, even when those closest to you fell in battle,
Sometimes even by their own hand.
That is ok.
They did what they could.
They are at rest. Let those ghosts be.
..but that little voice reminds me to look around.
Open your eyes.
Just breathe for a little while.
It is going to be ok.
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