Schopenhauer on my mind

Every time I think I've moved on I find that I haven't.

I don't know why that is, I've buried comrades with less heartache.

But every time I think I'm ready to move on, I'm brought to the sudden realization that I'm not.

I have moments when I am.
Days.
Sometimes whole weeks.
But when I try to act on my determination I fall flat.

Strange this weakness,
unfamiliar and unacceptable,
which I can't seem to shrug off.

I think a part of it has to do with how close I let myself get, and how much I let myself feel.  It's the only reason I can come up with for how poorly I read the situation, seeing what I wanted to see and ignoring the fact that we were moving in opposite directions, just passing each other (all be it, very slowly) in the night.

She was heading deeper into the city, I was trying to return to the country.
She was rushing headlong into the financial game that I had already played, and was trying to escape.
She was distancing herself and preparing for escape, while I (after no small amount of convincing, and self searching, and adjusting of my values) was imagining what our child would look like.

Love really must blind us, because in retrospect I see much more clearly.

I know I've said I'm done, a dozen times or more, but every time I say that something else comes up... 

This is why I use to drink, it made forgetting easier. 

Things would be so much easier if I could just forget, or at the very least make practical application of the knowledge that desire as the root of all suffering. 

Ah well, one more failure won't make any difference.






“If children were brought into the world by an act of pure reason alone, would the human race continue to exist? Would not a man rather have so much sympathy with the coming generation as to spare it the burden of existence, or at any rate not take it upon himself to impose that burden upon it in cold blood?”
     ― Arthur Schopenhauer ―