Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Scratches That Made Me
You buy things and you keep them clean. You take care of them. Keep them in a special pocket. Away from keys and coins. Away from other things that should be kept clean and taken care of as well. Then they get scratched. And scratched again. And again. And again. And again. Soon, you don't care about them anymore. You don't keep them in a special pocket. You throw them in the bag with everything else. They've surpassed their form and become nothing but function. People are like that. You meet them and keep them clean. In a special pocket. And then you start to scratch them. Not on purpose. Sometimes you just drop them by accident or forget which pocket they're in. But after the first scratch, it's all downhill from there. You see past their form. They become function. They are a purpose. Only their essence remains.
Written by Me at 11:58 PM
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I think things are much more interesting and compelling and beautiful once they are scratched up, worn, imperfect. (People, too.)
scratches add character.
Though scratches remain, it's nice to know all it takes is a change in thought process to see past the past. Focus on now. And love the person they've become.
To forgive them, each other,and most of all yourself for mistreatment...starting over. Discovering value in humanity, once again.
<3 beautiful as always, iain.
I agree with jensenn
this is incredibly beautiful and heartbreaking.
you make me think about things which are so easily and normally overlooked.
maybe it isn't always a bad scratch. everyone leaves their mark on someone.
and i think a few scratches might wear away the shiney, perfect layer. and underneath you see what's really there.
and sometimes you just scratch someone so bad there's no going back. you jerk.
Yes we can forgive, we can start over... but you'll know that those scratches still remain. And they hurt.
how can we better take care of our valuables without scratching them, or forgetting which pocket we placed them? and what if we do scratch them, what are we to do now? even more if it is unintentional? where do we get the answers?
Yes, they may hurt...but it is possible to let go.
Sometimes holding onto the regrets, grudges, and past is like holding onto a rock when you are trying to tread water. Eventually it may cause your drowning death, and by releasing the rock it makes keeping your head above water that much easier.
Of course, I may be a happy person, but not delusional-I realize every case is different. ;-)
I cannot hate the pathetic
I cannot hate the emptiness in a person
I cannot hate someone's lack of humanity
For a person with no feeling one can feel nothing but pity
A person who cannot love cannot hate
They will not understand this hate because they cannot understand the damage done to love to evoke such a hate
We all have holes that we must fill, but for these people the pit is bottomless
The void within them is so great that the loss of love is senseless meaningless
If they cannot feel loss they cannot feel love, if they cannot love they cannot hate
If they cannot hate they cannot reason another's expression of this emotion
I pity the fool who does not hate
who cannot hate whose passive journey through life will never cross the path of joy rapture and ecstasy
who will never experience the fullness the richness of the scale of emotions love and hate and everything in between can bring
Take joy in the misery you feel because you are feeling
Revel in your wrath because of the power and satisfaction it brings
Bathe in your love, drench yourself in the waters of the heart as your wander through the desert of life because one never can tell when the oasis will dry up
one never knows how long dusty parched and alone they might search before discovering another well of happiness
When we meet the eternally lonely damned share our cup but keep walking for they would shove their sandy hands down your throat scavaging for a drop of moisture. Run. Run from the loveless the hateless they are heartless the souless miserable monsters of our day
you alone know
the story behind the scratches.
Very true. But do you value them less, or simply in a new light?
hi hi - greetings from the east!
can i have approval to post ur link on my blog, thanks! :)
the choice between
imperfection or sterility?
or is it more like
an integration within the organism that is "You"?
You are a part of me now.
Whether I love you or not (I do), I can't keep you away from me, because I can't run from myself.
I'm sorry that I've taken you for granted. You don't know how lovely you are.
you always know just what to say, and tho it cannot fix my problems, it feeds my heart to know that i am not the only one whos gone through this type of stuff.
i, too, am a writer, and its nice to know that what i havent been able to put into words, has been so amazingly, and beautifully written by you.
Thank you (:
See me and look
Really stare at this thing
Of nothing that nobody wants
Shun and take for granted
That tiny cunt
And she tries so hard
They told her she was beautiful
And she must believe
So the days pass with the liner
And clothes that can’t cover
Thoughts of inadequacy.
Is she anything more than
The stuff between her legs?
Don’t give an impression you’d
Call slender even her sister
Would gawk at her
Size they use words like
Overwhelming and spunky
But they can’t see the
Menagerie of pain flapping
Bursting breaking panes
Inside she wants to die
And die and die
And you with your blonde
Wings and parted hair can’t
Understand the empty the
Ness of you don’t belong
And she tries and she starves
And she cuts but it’s never
Enough to fill voids hers
And theirs and the worlds
Wants a beauty queen but she
Won’t give in and you want
The crackhead where the bad
Feelings begin to empty
Drought she saw in her dreams
Please tell me you love me
Something you can trade
At least worth a day’s wage
Or two I found him blue
In the face drowned in the tub
An overdose of emotion a
Commotion of feeling too deep
And the heart explodes like
A coked out bloody nose on
Your birthday you weep
With deflated balloons and an
Empty cake of grief the white
Mud cream desert a la crème de
La bullshit because no one will
Ever care as much as your mother
And the ties that hold will
Cut themselves and you’ll drift to
Extinction in the bitter emptiness
Currents of the river drive us along as we give up our hope on the chunk of rock we've been holding dearly. If circumstances force us, we may continue drifting aimlessly with the flow albeit staying alive. What then would be the purpose of those 'I was here' carvings that we made on those rocks? Would it be all for naught? Those sentiments that you've shared, all gone. Wasted. All we can do is to zip them up in the pockets of our hearts. Seal them with a padlock, and place a 1 metre barrier all around.
At times when we turn around in reminiscence, all we can do is see the faint glimmer, and yearn for that intimate touch that took your breath away.
Life jus ain't that fair.
I've been scratched once, twice, a thousand times. And I think I've learnt to love each and every one of them.
Those scratches made me who I am today.
I am that object :(
Hmmm... quite true. DEEP.
This is one of the best blog I have ever read.
You scratched me. Over and over, But I stayed. I thought you'd learn to cherish me. But by this point, you've cut right to the quick of me, and you don't regret it. I need to learn to stop loving you, starting now.
I can so relate in this post. I've been scratched, but sometimes, I'm also the one doing the scratching.
I was searching the meaning of "scratched mood/status/situation" and thanks to google showing your blog as one of many results. I really like it. You enlighten me. Thank you
I believe if you scratch someone once, you'll keep scratching again because once your person isn't good as new anymore, you think - oh what the hell. But the truth is, once you've hurt someone, you'll start overlooking everything and instead of making sure they don't get hurt again, we keep making the same mistakes over and over until the other person get tired of getting hurt and scratched and ends up leaving you. And then you're left all alone, with nothing but regrets for the mistakes you shouldn't have made.
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