These Foolish Games

Its a rare time when I can look back on everything, on my past - that past - and only feel the slightest wish to have those days again. A rare time when I look back fondly on it all and realize the beauty that it was. And a part of me realizes that a part of the beauty is in the fact that it is the past, and that it can't be again.

I won't blame it on so called "human nature" that I do still long for it sometimes, though.

And all I can think about is the peaceful white light that come with rain.

It is strange to think, that right now I am very happy. Compared to only a month or so ago when I might have considered death better than the situation I was in.
Constantly I am aware of Her beauty all around me. The beauty in the fact that, had I taken my life on those various occasions that I was so inclined, that I would not be here right now, and I would not be experiencing the things I am. I would not be writing this. But it just goes to show how little we know when we think we know everything. It just goes to show how things can change.

It comes down to a choice, again. I can't recall how many times I have forgotten and re-learned this lesson. There is always a choice. So long ago I remember, when I first realized there was no point in remaining sad. When I realized one has to move on from things and notice all the things around them that they are blessed with. Inside the darkest cave, a seed still sprouts and grows. If a small seed can do that, then surely I can too.

And at this point it is not at all crazy to believe that all the things I had there I can also have here. There was rain and white light. That is not something...monopolized, by another world. There was a man who felt differently towards me than he does now, but it is not something to be mourned. It is something to be celebrated. Something to be soft about. To smile about with half-closed eyes. And deep inside I'm sure he understands this as well. And I know that others will, one day. I do not worry for them. They are in good hands.

Horrible Sanity

I seemed to have lapsed into madness for a few hours about a week or so ago. Bear in mind I am writing this a while after the fact so things might be blurry, but perhaps more in focus.

By madness, I mean, a glimpse of my former self. The former self that I'm not entirely sure is a good idea, but that I miss none the less. In the end, I might just berate this self with mentions of "madness" to hide the even more horrifying truth - that this is me, perfectly sane, and not crazy at all. If one does not recognize madness, it is a sure sign that it is there, after all.
I'm sure I've gone on and on in the past about my continous search for another world, whether mine own or someone else's, for some secret doorway or portal. A search that goes back to even my childhood days. I've often attributed it to madness, though I know it is truth. And it continues even today, it would seem.
Three weeks before this excursion, while closing my window, about to go to sleep; I noticed a blinking red light in the distance. An air control tower to most people, most certainly. But I froze in my tracks and spent the next hour blinking a flashlight back towards it, and trying to catch a glimpse with binoculars. What if it were him? What if, somewhere, he is flashing that light, knowing I'll recognize it as him? But I couldn't go out that night, or the next, or the one after that. So on it goes until that night when I finally decided to go and meet this light.
You are crazy, you are absolutely insane. My mind chants as I walk to the destination in the dead of night. Its somewhere I've never been, and all I have to guide me is a flashing light on the horizon.
My heart is pounding and my head simultaneously building me up and shutting me down by the time I reach my goal. A tower rises into the air, larger than imagined, and cables clank in the breeze. The occasional car passes. I see nobody but can't give up.
"Drayc?" I call out, as loud as I can bear - which is not very loud. No answer. I pray for a sign, refusing to let it go. Desperately following after any sound. I give him a choice - stop playing games and show himself or I go home.
I end up going home.
But what if he had been there, that first time? And I missed him? Because I couldn't get myself to leave the house. What if I failed him once again.
At the same time, none of it could be real. But, you and I both know, that's not the case.
I went, in the end. I had to, or it would have haunted me forever.
But it left me with more questions than answers.