February 25, 2008
You could ask but there seems to exist no appropriate answers for this one...They say, you know, that you're ten percent guilty for having been there in the first place. Whatever that means. As though you were guilty for simply having lived. Or for choosing to live. And maybe that's all there is to it.
One little thing could have gone wrong -- or more wrong -- and you wouldn't be here.
So that's why I salute you. Sincerely, I salute you for having made it. For making it this far, for struggling this long, for never giving up or folding under the stupidity which makes up too great a portion of our days.
Perhaps that's your answer. Or my answer. Or just an answer, in general.
An answer as to why I still cheer and wonder and worry and muse.
It's all too precious to simply turn away from or lay away in a dust-collecting box. It's all too amazing to forget -- this one other day you've gotten through.
That part of the journey you shared was never lost on my soul. Any part of the journey you shared was never lost on my soul. So that's why. That's why I celebrate.
Too impressive not to toast, too enthralling not to keep up, too beautiful to simply shrug off.
Like the child formed from your existence, the passion carved from your creativity, the only chapter of the story you seemed to truly understand -- I cannot be torn from this endearment. It's what I made, it's what lives inside me and it's what I know...
I've always been a long stretch from getting things right, I'm sure you know. Working so hard to get it right and in the moment that I take a breather, the Devil catches up with me. I just attract that kind of outcome -- that ten percent chance -- falling into the line of fire. Still, with you, despite all that, I felt like I was pretty right on.
And a feeling like that, I've learned, is rather rare.
So that's why.