I didn't find that word/phrase, but I did spend more than several minutes reminiscing about the moments in my life which was the genesis for those words. And I came upon the introductory post of the Dreamer's Son which is as follows:
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Tuesday, July 28, 2009
After a little more than a month after coming to the realization that I wanted to become a writer and that I would become a writer, this is the first thing I've written. This blog will be my canvas and easel as I attempt to compose my first work, the story of my life.
I've always had this vague notion, a semi-conscious desire of writing of my life, if only just to sort out all the details that I've managed to repress. The personal journals that were started and stopped lay in the wayside of my closet or in the recess of my filing cabinet or in password-protected files whose passwords are long forgotten, held in secret because of their contents as well as the poor prose. Those aborted media may come back to become integral parts of my novel/memoir as I explore myself, my innermost workings, my long-held secrets. This time, there will be no lies, no dishonesty, no shame; only truth shall remain.
Back in senior year of high school, I was faced with a decision between following my parents' dream for me and my English teachers' dream. The English teachers saw some potential in my writing skills, though these skills were incomparable to my math/science skills. I ultimately chose to follow my parents' dream. In English Literature class, the teacher would put up daily prompts for us to write a page-worth of words of what we thought it meant. Before coming to the decision, and after the decision, I felt that those quotes were meant to persecute me. They came in the form of 'you are a poor show of character if you can't handle a little adversity,' 'the best things in life don't come easy,' 'it is not good enough to say you are doing your best; you have to succeed in doing what is necessary,' and the like. Thinking back, these were some random, inspirational quotes, meant to kick us lazy seniors from our reverie, but I felt they were aimed at me.
Oftentimes, I think we observe things in nature, in our school, in our work that seem to remind us of what we need to do or what we have done wrong. I felt that I was the subject of inquisition because of that gnawing feeling that I was wrong in following my parents' decision for me. I saw signs everywhere of my betrayal to myself, my passion. Words became bland, authors mocked my cowardice, teachers glanced askew.
This time around 5 years later, I feel the world around me telling me to write my story; in reality, it is really me telling myself to bear and bare my soul. Recently, a band called Shinedown wrote a song called Second Chance in which the chorus goes
Tell my mother, tell my father I've done the best I can
To make them realize this is my life, I hope they understand
I'm not angry, I'm just saying
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance
What really got to me is this line in the book The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers that reads 'Because in some men it is in them to give up everything personal at some time, before it ferments and poisons--throw it to some human being or some idea.' This is my chance to tell the truth, to tell my parents I am an individual, and to apologize to myself for the sins I have committed against myself.
This is my story; this is my truth; this is my soul.
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That was 2009. This is 2015. What has happened in these six years? Well, I don't think I'm nearly as melodramatic (hopefully). And I have gained a sense of perspective. Those words had been written in a fervor of woe-is-me mentality. Though that past self did possess a vague notion of responsibility, he seemed to only acknowledge said responsibility because he felt it was the "right" or "appropriate" or "accepted" thing to do.
He did not feel it in his heart, that "[t]his time, there will be no lies, no dishonesty, no shame; only truth shall remain." Since ultimately, as I came to find out, truth did not remain. Just another form of rejection of past, rejection of self, rejection of soul.
I cannot claim that only "truth shall remain" going forward. I can only say that I will try my best to live life today how I feel it should be lived. I am learning to accept myself for who I am and for what my past has been. One cannot erase one's past, and neither should one attempt to. To negate the bitterness is also to negate the sweetness.
So I embrace the thorns of my soul. This fleeting pain will remind me that I am alive at this minute, in this hour, on this day.
