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[charlesangel23]

#narrowpath #pathlesschosen #standingalone #faith #notfear #hansfhansen (at Fast Cash Recycling Center)

[tscheidel]

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[mercidercqu]

Robert Frost: An Analysis of Sorts

As published on Real Talk. Check out the link here: http://www.realtalkmag.co/pieces/2015/6/22/robert-frost-an-analysis-of-sorts

I’ve always walked the path less chosen. It’s not that I am so pretentious, or that I believe that Robert Frost had some kind of ingenious point of view that leads me to take roads that have made all the difference. It’s simply that I choose paths that lead to hardships on purpose.

I’d like to think that I enjoy the challenge. Realistically, I probably just try to teach myself a lesson.

I’ve discovered that I’ve become the kind of person who needs opportunities. I’m opportunistic, if you will. I need the opportunity to learn that some boys will ever only like the chase. I will attempt to be with them – attempt against my better judgment. I will drive home from work, or dinner, or his third floor loft, and know deep down in my soul that he’ll never want me. I know this. I know that no matter what dresses I wear - no matter how body curving, how high my heels, how pouty my lips - the fact that he doesn’t want me is not skin-deep. I’ll feel this truth vibrating through my veins, but I’ll still go through with it.

I’ll convince myself, over store-bought Wheat Thins and a bottle of whiskey, that one day he will change. I convince myself –trick myself– into believing that the finish line at the end of this race will be him, standing near the rope with his arms open wide and a smile resting between his cheeks celebrating these words: “You’re the one.”

It’ll always be a lie, but convincing myself that I can endure it has been a lesson it took me finally loving a decent man to absorb.

I often think about why this is—why do I have to pursue the difficult? Why can’t I embrace the happy – or why couldn’t I?

I wrestled with this one night. I sat in a candle lit room, soft music playing in the background, and a bottle of Chianti resting on my dining room table. It wasn’t dramatic. It was peaceful; it was me, alone with my thoughts as I sometimes become too scared to do. I thought about tranquility, and about up until a more recent point, my life had never understood the meaning of the word. After all, I was divorced. I was known for picking out relationships that were doomed to fail from the start. I was a scapegoat on my own accord. I wanted a reason to fail; I wanted misery; I wanted hardship, because a part of me reasoned that, those feelings were all I had ever known.

And then I took another swig of the Chianti, and more words kept floating in.

Whenever it comes to life, there are those people who always choose Path A. Path A is simple, and direct. There aren’t many bumps, and the wildlife is targeted to squirrels and chipmunks, which can never really hurt you, just stare at you while you whiz on by.

And then there’s Path B—my path. It’s winding. It becomes treacherous in some places. There are moments when you’re clinging onto your breath. Your sweat becomes a thick layer onto your moistened skin. You climb the rocks, and you embrace yourself as you walk along the shallows.

It takes much longer. It takes more exposure - to the sun, to the heat, to the clouds, the thunderstorms, and the rainbows. It becomes a mixture of good and bad, and lessons learned, and when you finally come through that clearing, you feel cleansed; not of worry, not of fear, not of even anxiety, but of you. You cleanse yourself, with all the difficult choices you made, because had it not been for them, maybe you wouldn’t end up here. And maybe here, is the X on the map you’ve been trying to circle. Maybe here, is your destination.

Maybe Robert Frost was on to something.