nobody wants to hear the truth..sure they may ask for it, search it out, but they don’t want the real truth...they want some pre-fabricated version of the truth manufactured by someone else made to fit their own ideals. I stop my walk on the trail and re-read text messages from the night prior...i’m not a fan of being guilted.
The texts tell me the ‘truth’ that those think I need to hear, the truth I should hear..it’s worthless...guilt falls off my mind like water on a duck’s back...you’re talking to the guy who told everyone he encountered that his mother was dead - the same person that still refers to her by her first name even now - all because she didn’t say goodbye...it’s not a grudge, it’s a mark that was left that I have to bear, it’s an everlasting scar I am reminded of everyday, but not a grudge.
I turn around, I’ve been out here long enough...do they want the truth? Hell, even if I were to give them my truth at this very moment they wouldn’t accept it as the truth...if I told them I could give a fuck about dinner plans, that I’d rather sleep in my car underneath the spotlight of a truckstop than to go back right now, they wouldn’t respect my decisions..call me thickheaded, call me the asshole....but even if I were to humor them and show, what the fuck good would that do - in a perfect world we would all go out and have a great time, but its far from perfect now...should I show to appease them, I’d just sit there, I wouldn’t talk, I’m not hungry, it’d be like bringing a corpse to the dinner table, and nobody likes that...
I hate when people are walking behind me - I know we are on the only path going in the same direction, I know they aren’t following me, but truth is, it bothers me
Truth is the sun is going down, ruining my photo session with nature...truth is the temperature has gone down twelve degrees in the past twenty-five minutes, truth is my nose is freazing, truth is I still don’t want to go.
Two females jog past me, the one on the left wearing an adidas pack on her back, the other with some clichéd workout slogan printed on the back of her shirt..truth is I hate running with a bag on my back...truth is I find those sloganed shirts to be the equivalent to fortune cookies for the weight room.
How far did I walk, this seems to be taking forever to get back to where I last shot any photos at the bridge...
Truth is, I don’t blog when I’m mad anymore - it’s probably for the best, I don’t want to offend anyone - oh wait, I do that already, whoops. Reviewing posts from the past, it seems as if I had instaneous access to the computer when I needed to rant - weird part is that I had a desktop back then..now I have a lappy and can’t get anything on here like I’d want to. I’d much rather give three smaller posts a day instead of one long recap, but now-a-days all I have is a two hour block once a day to get my writing in, if I’m lucky.
I’m back at the bridge, fire off a couple shots, yeah..the sun is making it next to impossible for me to get what I want, I continue my way back.
Truth is, I wish I had a mental recorder for the rants I give in my head...i didn’t even bring my digital recorder, or if I did, I don’t even know where it is...i really prefer what is in my head the first time I think it rather than brewing on it til I get to my computer only to hack it up via text.
I get back to my car, pull out my lappy and carry it on over to the park benches...i’m gonna try my best to get everything out on here...but truth is, my battery is dead..