the interesting thing about guilt, and about how it manifests itself in our lives, is that we look for it, subconsciously, in everything we see or do. and that seeking behavior, is unfortunately what typically gives us away.
to put it in new age social media speak. if you update something innocuous and vague as your facebook status, calling someone, anyone out, on something either drastic or simple, the guilty people will assume it's about them, and often compensate to the alternative in order to alleviate their own internal guilt, and to draw the attention away from them being the person that was named/unname to begin with.
it's sort of like reverse psychology, but with a little less intent and a lot more curiosity.
we're all so vain and egotistical that we have to consistently assume something is about us. especially when we see within it's constrains a piece of ourselves. especially when we want to shift blame. it's just our nature I suppose. ... I suppose
but the most interesting thing, to me, is how dark and pathological we must become in order to keep up the consistencies we've become accustomed to. to think - one lie begets another. and so on and so forth. until eventually it's just too much to keep track of and we either choose to refrain from a life of constant internalization of what's really the truth and what isn't. or we simply decide to be better people.
that crux, that impasse of decision making is a terrible time in someones life. it's a terrible moment to reach weakness and grief and take from it something that isn't so much a survivor moment, and more so a palatable vulnerable moment.
it's in these moments though, that our character is tested. and we are tested. who we are vs who we think we are will eventually come to light. no matter how many times you try to deny it, or change it. the truth about ourselves isn't something we can run away from.
the weather, in relation to my global position, has decided to take a turn towards lovely.
the windows to my condo a nearly floor to ceiling, allowing an on pour of sunlight to bathe every inch of this room during the morning and afternoon, something that Smokey takes full advantage of.
in the evening, a cool shade overtakes this side of the city and a breeze that is hardly noticeable moves the air around, much to my pleasure.
with it comes the sweet smell of the neighborhood around me. with it's cultural differences, it's melting pot so to speak. I can't place the scent, thought I've tried for a few nights now. it's sweet. but not so sweet that I would assume it's coming from a white persons home.
I imagine it's gulab jumun from the family down the hall. they're windows open and kids playing and it's sticky sweetness wafting towards my home.
or I imagine it's baklava. full of honey and pistachio's from the greek's on the other side of the fence.
it could even be cookies, pastries, something covered in powdered sugar. it could be anything. but I like to assume it's foreign and took time and effort and that it's not quite done yet, but soon some family will enjoy it together and take a moment to appreciate the care it was given.
I like to imagine it's from somewhere warm and distant. so I can transport myself there. transport myself to anywhere. anywhere that isn't here. Because here sits a trembling sense of uncertainty that dictates my every move. And it's not long before the pressure and obligation topple over any progress I think we may or may not have made. The funny thing about guilt is that it's born from lies, and lies are born from guilt. And the cycle never ends, as long as there's intent.
In other news. The only thing constant in life, is change.
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