A Bitter Taste of Blue

That’s what I got in my mouth after reading some of my writings here. I thought I was optimistic and well, maybe not happy happy, but contented…serene. Instead Ifound this fairly bitter, depressing person writing under my name….How can that be? Granted, since I came, read and retreated to ponder, fester and just think, I’ve been low. Maybe it’s the anticlimax of the season. Or maybe this is how it works….you write something, and that what you hold to be the  thruth, turns out to be a mistake, at best, or fiction. Or maybe it’s just plain old me, peaking out from behind that happy, contented mask. I lost my footing, but in doing so I also had to take stock of some more or less painful things. My going back to my bad habits is one, and although one can always blame ones surroundings it’s not honest, and if I can’t be honest with myself, then what? I will ofcourse get a grip. That’s who I am, was fostered to be, but it’s so hard sometimes to be good, do good…all because of what? The eternal award? The knowledge of “being good”? I don’t know, but the road is somehow already mapped out. It doesn’t really matter how much I procrastinate, I’ll get to where I’m going in the end anyway, I know.

I wanted to tell about the first girl. She who came before the young woman and the little girl, but I just can’t face it now. She’ll have to wait the next opportunity. Up on the little hill, in the forest, at the end of the old dirt-track……