I wasn't who you wanted me to be, was I? You had high hopes for me, for what you thought I could be, yet when I found my contentment down the road I was meant to travel, you were disappointed. So you dropped me.
But not in the merciful way of reaction and anger (which would give me reason to discredit you), nor either in the way that is easy to brush off - sadness and withdrawal. No, instead you chose the more painful way. You chose to find someone else right in front of me, and dote on this newfound protegee, and just let me watch.
I know that I'm not meant to be what you'd like me to be. I thought for a time that was my calling, but I was fooling myself. I'll probably never know exactly what you think of my choices, and I won't be the one to ruin the gossamer relationship we still have. I feel as though I might bring harsh feelings to the forefront if I begin the paramount conversation of what exactly you think of me now.
But in the end, I just wish I could still be accepted by you. In the end, I want to be the student that achieved mastery, and who made the master proud. And short of that, I wish I could've been the student that chose a different path, yet could still be accepted, still be loved.
But perhaps it is not in the nature of masters to accept.
"became the master"--in which sense? Turned into the master or 'became' in the sense of ornamented or suited the master?
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ReplyDeletePerhaps that answer is up for interpretation.
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ReplyDeleteIs that any better?
ReplyDeleteA part of me likes seeing people bring their own pasts, experiences, and musings to the table, and interpret things the way they will. It makes the writing seem more alive - more worthy or people's thoughts.
On the other hand, I am not of the mind that writings could mean or say anything. I do agree that authors should have a point and try their best to make that point - though not too forcefully. Readers should be led in a way, but let alone enough to make decisions on their own.
But to be honest about this piece, it was not religious at all. I was musing about a wilderness leader of mine. People can be good, yet fickle creatures.
There's just a bone sadness in there that's hard to face and deal with--so many friends grown away from, so many lost in shame or defiance, so many betrayed or betraying, so many changed beyond recognition in every possible way (and, no doubt, they see me identically....)
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I tried twice to deal with the writing--but wasn't happy with either, which is not like me at all, and that's why I deleted them both. Fast comments with little thought is my usual method!
Here, I think the sadness of the piece sapped my confidence in my own comment (and don't go telling me that this sort of falling out with someone isn't sad!) because (and this also is unusual for me) I didn't quite catch onto my own feelings about the content.
Thank you, it was meant to be sad. I took my own emptiness and tried to spin it into a vignette, and I'm glad to hear that it came off.
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