Saturday, January 26, 2008

November Rain

I find myself addicted to this place right now, this weird place called Solitude. And just like any other addiction, it feels like there’s no escape. There’s this self-perceived length of elastic between it and me, and every time I try to walk away and free myself from it, it pulls me back. And every time it pulls me back, the attachment gets stronger; I’m growing fond of it. I’m starting to enjoy its company. Solitude is becoming my security blanket.

Yet at the same time, as that realization grows, I keep hoping even more for eventual release. And that Hope is what’s keeping me going – keeping the addiction from taking over completely.

It's like the difference between November rain and January rain. There's something about January rain that just mades me feel so sad, so helpless. The fact that it comes right after Christmas, after all the festivities of New Year. The pathetic fallacy of it all. It reminds me that there's nothing more to look forward to, not for a long time. There's nothing to keep your spirit warm; it's just cold and wet. November rain, though. November rain is different. When it rains in November, you still get cold and wet, but it tends not to dampen your soul as much, because there's still that promise of Christmas approaching. And at Christmas, all becomes right with the world again.

I’m more like November rain. It’s true, I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve been feeling lost. Some days. On other days, I just feel detached, numb. Those are the days I don’t need to cry, when all the tears have run out and I’m just… existing. I’m not sure which are worse – the lost days or the numb days. I wouldn’t normally be as public as this with my feelings, but I have to be, to try and make you understand. Because even though I’m going through all this, and I’m struggling… despite all that, I know there’s something more to come. There has to be. All my faith is in it. Because if there’s not, if you take that faith away, then there’s nothing here. Not just for me, but for any of us. November rain has that small thing that January rain doesn’t:

it has Hope.