Fair warning, this is not a happy sounding post. It is, instead, a free-flowing river of current thoughts that will, to some extent, make me feel better simply for writing them.

“We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves.” — Francois de la Roche Foucald

I have enjoyed a number of adventures over the years. Some have ended well, others have left their toll on me in some mental or physical form. I have seen, first hand, the damage that can be caused by the betrayal of trust, the loss of love, the dashing of hopes, and the torment of feeling lost while trying to make the best choice for oneself. I have also seen the joys of camaraderie, the security and comfort of close friendship, and the incomprehensible strength that two people in love can have in the face of everything that gets thrown their way.

Yet I am lost at the moment, unable to see anything beyond an encroaching darkness as far as I can see. Sometimes I simply wish someone was around to reassure me that this perpetual numbness cannot last, and at the same time I am afraid to let anyone else close enough to be that reassurance due to the scars of the past.

It sounds silly, even when written. How easy it can be to provide support for others, to provide the shoulder they need, to recognize the benefits of having that social network of trusted people, and yet to so easily close oneself off from the same, needed support simply because there is an ingrained fear of being betrayed once again.

I know these things, and yet I maintain my walls. The same walls that allow me not to see the sun coming over the horizon, but to see just the storm as it approaches.

I know that I have created a cage for myself as a result, and that nothing will change until someone is able to help open the door. The problem lies therein, however, that at the moment I either do not know that someone, or both that someone and I simply have not realized their potential to help.

“It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone.” — Rose Kennedy