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    Headstall
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Headstall's Reflections - 41. Chapter 41 I Tire of Me

Just a poem....

Headstall’s Reflections

 

 

Chapter 41 I Tire of Me

 

 

I tire of me

And the circles I traverse

They close in like a noose

Getting smaller

Limiting my soul’s freedom

Yes

I tire of me

Playing the same old songs on repeat

Pounding out the accompaniment

To my failings, my losses

Leaving me bereft in patches

Yes

I regroup

So what

It’s only a fleeting respite

From that pit in my stomach

And the longing in my heart

Yes

The circle comes again

As sure as the moon will dwindle

So too will I

A sliver of existence

My light contained

Yes

I tire of me

When did leaping become plodding

And joy become pale?

A refrain repeated

By a sad and shadowed man

Yes

I tire of me

Life's journey... part fifty-six thousand and two... :)
Copyright © 2017 Headstall; All Rights Reserved.
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Like tim said, I think we all tire of ourselves at one point or another. We are our own biggest critics, and our criticisms of ourselves are rarely constructive. That said, we also know ourselves best and remember what we used to me. I know there are times I miss the me of twenty years ago when I was more optimistic about everything.
I echo many, many others when I say: I will never tire of you, my friend :hug:

  • Love 1

I can't think of a better definition of self-examination--at some point, we all come to that moment: Is that all there is? The world around us, the world inside us--not necessarily despair, or even boredom...just...blankness.
Life has stalled, emotions have stalled...it will take energy to move us on, but is the effort worth it? Anything will take up energy, which for the moment, we can't muster--our Youthful Dreams seem far away and lost, and new ones have yet to be born. A timeless instant of entropy--where is our personal Big Bang to start the cycle again?
For me, it's always an external source which spurs me onward; it doesn't matter what it is, a scent on the air, a glimpse of something in the corner of our vision, or a snatch of a sound...maybe just the lowly rumbling of a hungry stomach. :)
When things move again, it may be cliche--but there's always something new to experience, be it a new friend, a new place, or just a new scrap gleaned from some book--as long as that can still move us, then it's all worth it, and I, at least, find enthusiasm for myself again.

  • Love 1
On 01/12/2017 12:00 PM, LitLover said:

Like tim said, I think we all tire of ourselves at one point or another. We are our own biggest critics, and our criticisms of ourselves are rarely constructive. That said, we also know ourselves best and remember what we used to me. I know there are times I miss the me of twenty years ago when I was more optimistic about everything.

I echo many, many others when I say: I will never tire of you, my friend :hug:

Thanks, Lit :hug:

On 01/12/2017 03:58 PM, ColumbusGuy said:

I can't think of a better definition of self-examination--at some point, we all come to that moment: Is that all there is? The world around us, the world inside us--not necessarily despair, or even boredom...just...blankness.

Life has stalled, emotions have stalled...it will take energy to move us on, but is the effort worth it? Anything will take up energy, which for the moment, we can't muster--our Youthful Dreams seem far away and lost, and new ones have yet to be born. A timeless instant of entropy--where is our personal Big Bang to start the cycle again?

For me, it's always an external source which spurs me onward; it doesn't matter what it is, a scent on the air, a glimpse of something in the corner of our vision, or a snatch of a sound...maybe just the lowly rumbling of a hungry stomach. :)

When things move again, it may be cliche--but there's always something new to experience, be it a new friend, a new place, or just a new scrap gleaned from some book--as long as that can still move us, then it's all worth it, and I, at least, find enthusiasm for myself again.

Thanks for understanding, buddy... wonderful :hug:

This poem doesn't merely speak to me, it haunts me. It's almost chantlike quality means the words and phrases float in and out of my consciousness, and will continue to do so. The title phrase, I tire of me, talks with my voice, calls up my own thoughts.

 

The image of circles; endless, encompassing, circles, delimiting the space for our souls and selves is indeed both despairing and frightening. Yet another mundane, yet powerful image reinforces this: old songs on repeat – like bad, pre-programmed radio, we are doomed to hear it all over again. I nearly wept with the next two stanzas, for the pit in the stomach and the yearning you speak of are mine, too.

 

The last stanza makes me feel as grey as I know I look in the mirror. You write a great heartache, my friend, and if it is any comfort to know at least one other person shares it, then you can do so.

 

Many thanks for sharing this with us.

  • Love 1
On 01/13/2017 08:03 AM, Parker Owens said:

This poem doesn't merely speak to me, it haunts me. It's almost chantlike quality means the words and phrases float in and out of my consciousness, and will continue to do so. The title phrase, I tire of me, talks with my voice, calls up my own thoughts.

 

The image of circles; endless, encompassing, circles, delimiting the space for our souls and selves is indeed both despairing and frightening. Yet another mundane, yet powerful image reinforces this: old songs on repeat – like bad, pre-programmed radio, we are doomed to hear it all over again. I nearly wept with the next two stanzas, for the pit in the stomach and the yearning you speak of are mine, too.

 

The last stanza makes me feel as grey as I know I look in the mirror. You write a great heartache, my friend, and if it is any comfort to know at least one other person shares it, then you can do so.

 

Many thanks for sharing this with us.

This was a powerful review for me to read. Sorry for the delay in responding. As I age it feels the circles get smaller, and I anger at my inner complaining. Self pity is unproductive... even worse, it tempers any joy available to me... I really do tire of me... but I also am good at shedding my itchy skin... so I do eventually renew, or at least I have in the past... thanks, Parker for your empathy and your illuminating words... :hug:

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