Words From The Past

Because I have been rummaging through old posts and deciding I was a better writer back then, I am reposting this because it seems relevant. 

Words Give Us Away
Originally Posted, Saturday, August 22, 2009

"Our words give us away." It seems like the phrase should come from the lyrics of a familiar song, but I can't seem to remember the tune. Help me, please, if you do. It is not the spoken words I'm referring to. Those only hold the weight our bodies and our actions give them. "Actions speak louder than words" is one of my favorite mantras.

I am referring to the written words. The post we make on the blogs we pseudo-anonymously hide behind. I have this theory, the more popular the blog, the more contrived the posts. Perhaps that is just sour grapes over my decline in readership. I am often told by some that no one thinks like I do. I haven't decided if that is a bad thing or not. I'm leaning toward feeling it is a good thing-- just not a comforting thing.

So why the title? What am I trying to say? A couple things and nothing. I feel I should be writing but am short on material-- for now. Lately, I'd rather be talking than writing. Though the talking does lead to writing. I have left those in the draft mood for now. I have been reluctant to print what I want to say here because our words give us away.

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I had a category on previous blogs, "Too Close To Call." Often cryptic posts eluding how I was feeling fell into this category.

Play The Martyr

Originally Posted Saturday, November 17, 2007

Play the Martyr, stretch out your arms, and call for the nails. It doesn't matter that the crowd has gone home. You could leave on your own. When you're dead, there is no need to take responsibility for what you've known all along.

Play the Martyr, curse their sins till their stones crush your skull. Don't pick yourself up. Let them drag your remains through the mud. An unmarked grave will mark your unremarkable life.

Play the Martyr, hang from the gallows, neck snapped at the spine. You know just how dangerous second-best can be. You settle for lies like you settle for less. Does this make you feel safe?

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My writing then was fueled by depression and alcoholic outings. These days, I seldom drink, and my depression is mostly held at bay without the need for antidepressants. Devoid of the chaos I tend to bring into my life, all that is left is to live. Sometimes, that seems like the hardest thing to do.