John Lennon said, “Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans.” I don’t think I agree with him. Life happens whether you make plans or not. And I don’t support thinking that implies existence is something that is happening to me, like acne. Life is always happening. But plans. Plans are stupid. Plans are really just tentative ideas for what’s to come, if we get there, if nothing changes, if we still want the same things. Plans drive people to live to fulfill the plan, rather than live to fulfill their life (though that’s usually the reason for the plan in the first place.) Plans suck. Cancelled plans suck a lot too. But I have to contradict myself – plans, when laid loosely, can be of some help; they can help people achieve their dreams – that is, if they still want them.
Expect the unexpected – that’s stupid too. I don’t even want to get started on that one. Everyday I feel this huge hole in my life and I flip the bird to that stupid saying. Expect the unexpected. What a stupid adage. It’s truth. But it’s still gay. The unexpected always fucks up what you expect.
But then there’s – anything is possible – which is completely untrue. The parameters need to be narrowed. There are limitations in this existence don’t you know. Not everything is possible. Maybe we should just say – the unexpected is possible when you make plans while you’re living. Fuck. Why did I even start?
Someone once told me that it’s good to know what feels bad. It’s not a comparison thing. It’s more about being able to decide what feels right and what doesn’t. In some ways it’s a survival thing. But when the bad stuff happens regardless of knowing, regardless of choice, regardless of expectations and dreams and possibilities – it doesn’t matter how good it is to know how bad it feels. It just sucks. And then it creates a darkness – your own personal piece of the bad that becomes a part of you.
I was walking around the house today and became very aware of my own personal darkness again. I had forgotten how much it consumed me. I mean, I wonder a lot why I’m miserable or why it’s so difficult to entertain happy thoughts, why I feel run down with confusion and loss of direction. But today I remembered. It’s that damn hole in my heart – that huge space that was once so filled and bright and cheery. My own personal darkness. That heart that was once filled to the brim with love – it now has a dark spot – a part so uncultivated, abandoned, withered and filled with shadow. It’s like a ghost town – a forgotten place. And I harbour it. I guard it. I hide it from whoever so I can feel some sense of nobility in protecting the treasure I once had. I think I protect my pain. But an uncultivated garden – well, there’s lots of sayings about those. My own personal darkness – the hole in my heart. That was unexpected. That wasn’t in the plans, and I had a lot of plans.
I’m kind of sick of trying to figure it all out. I’m getting exhausted with being strong and pushing forward and getting on with life and telling people I’m OK and I’m improving and I’m getting happy. The truth is – I really don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or what the hell is happening. It’s so much easier to ignore everything, but it’s not in me to do that. I’d love to give up, but I can’t even do that. So I have just decided to be whoever this person with the dark piece of heart is and learn me as I go. And I’m gonna make plans. And I don’t give a shit anymore about the unexpected or expectations. And I know that somethings, no matter how hard you think about it – just aren’t possible. But I do know that life doesn’t happen to me. I happen to life.