Truth

So here goes.

Truth.

Everyone has a different opinion on what the truth is, what it should be, what it should not be.

What's natural? What's normal? What's acceptable?

There's only you, you and whatever it is that you believe, because believe me, there's not much else out there worth looking for; except people who've seen it the same way.

At least that's my personal opinion.

There are a lot of people out there with a voice, and many voices louder than mine could ever be. I can't help thinking that my voice was put out there to help influence someone to a better decision. Maybe not even a decision that I agree with, but a decision nonetheless. That's the strongest thing that any one person can ever do for themselves and the ones they love.

I started smoking again after a very short hiatus by many definitions. But for me, instead of capitulation, it was a cognitive decision that I felt benefited me in some way. I know not physically, because no one could help themselves by smoking. But romantically, ideally, truthfully, lovingly; smoking is something that not only caresses my lungs but caresses my soul. It brings me in touch with Katherine Heburne, Bette Davis, Debbie Reynolds, Kathrine Turner, Anais Nin, and all the other sexy women from a time now past.

It puts me in touch with the soul of my grandmother, whom I identified with more closely than I ever let on.

She was a classic beauty, a classic wife, a classic woman who handled everything with grace and just the right amount of patience, optimism and care.

In her grace I hope to live. In her way of being I hope to find who it was I am supposed to be. I don't think I ever forgot, I just like remembering. There's something romantic in that idea, and that's something that embodies who I am. Old cartoons, cigarettes, whisky, eclectic art and fancy purses.

That's why I want children, and that's likely why I'll never end up having them. It makes me cry.

I miss them, the children I never had.

They were my loves, my joys, my chance at fame and fortune and comfort.

But they will not be here. They are for another time more appropriate for the work they may accomplish. I wish I could believe that. But telling myself of their truth and their potential helps me remember who they might have been, even if they never were. At least that's a little something that makes me feel better without feeling too guilty.