On Retrospect

            I learn so much from retrospect. Everything comes to light, all the little things that passed me by. Reading all of those "what does your name mean?" snippets in the gift stores filed under "Amanda", a common trend of valuing the smaller things in life appeared again and again. You'd think that I would learn from that, because it is true, I do appreciate finer things, I don't expect too much of anything and I value what I can. You'd think I would learn that not only can it make me happy from time to time, but it can be useful and save me from a lot of needless backlash. What is it that keeps us from seeing clearly? From seeing those little things? They happen in real time, alongside every other moment. Why do we miss the most important ones? The ones most important to our prolonged well being? Is it really just a matter of my mind being clouded and preoccupied by things? By only seeing what I want to see? Have I really not surpassed those limitations yet, in all the time and troubles that have transpired in my life? Of all the problems I've been through, where I learn only after I've been left penniless, mentally and emotionally degraded beyond comprehension, my insides hollowed out with only a cold, sharp ache left in its stead, why hasn't this realization integrated in my head? What does it take? I know about it, I tell my friends all of these things when I see it reflected in their life paths, why does mine have to be so different?

            Too much has happened recently. Things have gone far too fast. I've been thrown from a speeding car with no seatbelt, slamming against the street with a shock unparalleled and my body is left a mangled, shredded mess with my blood across the pavement and a moan on my lips. Where was my seatbelt? Why did I drive so fast in the first place? I've summed it up to the fact that the promise of love was too sweet. That promise of a feeling I thought I had for so long. I thought it was in my hands, he told me it was. But, again, I never saw the signs. My road signs. "Slick roadway ahead", "windy road ahead", "STOP". Sometimes my friends are holding the signs. Watching me careen down this horrible road where I'm driving blind. It wouldn't be so horrible if I didn't do this to myself. If I didn't allow the idea of the drive itself to take over my mind, to steer the car for me. I don't think it necessarily started out that way. I knew what I was getting into...to a degree at least. I thought I did. I started up that car, I turned on that path, but then...the speed took hold of me, it grabbed my hands and in that moment I became weightless. I closed my eyes.

            Or was I already driving? Driving on a different road, at a different speed? That was a longer road. Was there a car beside me? Before...did his path segway miles back while I remained oblivious in my ecstasy? Did I open my eyes to find the car missing? Was it a dead end that I met or did I roll to a stop? No. It could have been, but I chose the express-way, the sharp turnoff, there was no finality to that journey. Perhaps all I needed was a gas station, after all of that. Am I running on empty now? The dregs of my last tank, driving into the sunset with reckless abandon? Do I need that respite? I think I overestimated things. My gas indicator is broken. I don't know when it's time to quit, when enough is enough, when in all reality I cannot continue to go. It's a judgment call, one that I have still not had enough experience or courage in making. What will it take for me to tap on that indicator, to jostle the mechanics back into working order? I haven't had that defining moment to force me to realize to such a degree that I adhere. I'm no good with practicing things like that.

            Retrospect is an hourglass reverted, only too late. If only I could stifle the sands of time as they fall, scream for a pause. Would I even know when to do this, if I had the choice? It must be a metered process, if I am to achieve anything close to this premise. But how can I make any progress if I constantly pull off the road to read up on my roadway signals? I suppose my patience in these matters is the issue, why risk a high speed collision when you will still reach your destination by going slower and safer?

            It's in the past now. I've wrecked. We both went too fast, was his wreck as bad as mine? As much as he talks about his 'go go go' personality and falling too fast, do we compare? My flaw of feeling too deeply becomes more and more evident as each day passes. People never really tell me the things that they find endearing about my personality. When I fill out those questionnaires for job applications and they ask you, "What do people think your most redeeming quality is?" I don't ever really know what to say. Is that something that I should ask? I always assumed that if people wanted me to know, they would tell me. It's pretentious, in my mind, to ask "why do you think I'm so amazing?" when I could be telling them how they are just as amazing (if not more so). Stacey has said that I care so deeply about people, more so than anyone she knows. If that's really the case then it's both a blessing and a curse. I'd do anything for someone I cared about, no matter the cost to myself. I think a lot about if and when I would take a bullet for someone. I usually think that I wouldn't; whether that's my fearful self-preservationist instinct or my overemphasis on the value of my life and the value that I place in that, I'm not really sure. Would I do it though? If the situation came, would I do it simply because it is my natural instinct, it's in my personality to care for others in such a penetrating way? I guess then, if that's how it all ended, it would show tangibly that my stifling need to take care of those around me is a lethal thing to a degree.

            If I go too fast, I will never see the signs; it's as simple as that. It seems that even when I go slowly, when the road seems clear and straight, when I feel like I'm in control of the wheel without distraction, I can still miss signs. I won't see every sign. With as much over thinking as I do on a regular basis, I do not pay enough heed to the subjects that require the most of my attention. At least not until it's too late. My worry grasps at my throat and clenches me, pressing my nose in a singular direction, "look at this! Look at this exasperating thing, look at it until it darts away from your gaze! Watch it escape you in your helplessness! Now look until it overshadows you, watch it grow! You can't escape this thing! It's inside you now!" I can't see. It all comes down to this, my everlasting battle with my anxiety. It is the root of all things. I may not only be blinded by my joy for the moment, I am blinded by my tunnel vision.

            Ultimately, it's a matter of perspective. If I am able to take that step back from the situation, remove my foot from the gas pedal, it can only benefit me. They say 'act mysterious', 'be desirable', 'don't give it up so soon'...they're saying wait. Waiting takes time, time takes patience. Patience takes control. Control takes volition. I have to make my own spur, this is the moment. No longer can I go full throttle. I don't have the gas to make the journey, the horsepower to match my ideal speed, and most of all I don't have the strength to accept the crash. I can only hope for the best, that I'm as desirable as I like to think I am, so all the hot rods I admire won't pass me by on the freeway. Give it more practice, become more objective, slow down the rats in my head: no amount of anxious, scatterbrained premeditation will help you find the perfect road, free from hazards. There is no perfect road. All you can do is look for signs and drive on.