Saturday, August 1, 2015


Bitterness has become a habit.

It's not even true bitterness, more of an afterthought.

Like a man with no faith absentmindedly kissing the mezuzah as he enters his home. A thing of routine. The type of action that becomes so ingrained in day to day life that it's no longer a conscious decision, but a reflex, like breathing or walking or wanting to hug Elijah wood.

A thing so commonplace that it is no longer relevant, and so it becomes just another forgotten moment, not necessary to the archive we call memory, piled on the mound of other forgotten moments that obscures our view of the past and makes us look back in shock and wonder where all our time went.

I sprinkle bitterness on my life the way people add salt to their meal before tasting it, And yet my bitterness is bland.

I lay in bed and look back on my past regrets and no longer feel a sting, but an incessant poking to the side of the head. I'm not just sick of bitterness, I am bored of it, and Perhaps being bored is a sign of healing, perhaps I have literally spent enough of my time to move on from bitterness.

after all, Time is the best medicine that eventually kills you.

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