9 Crimes

Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
It's the wrong time
For somebody new
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse

Is that alright?
Give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright?
If u don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it
Is that alright?
Give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright...
With you?
- Damien Rice, 9 Crimes

Still trying to figure out what this song means. But it's nice.

Reflecting is a vital part of any purpose making one may have in life. It is easy to get wrapped up in the cycle of doing things as part of a routine, and forgetting the greater purpose that one may serve in the larger scheme of things.

I wonder how much time i have spent reflecting like this for a long long time.


Looking at you makes it harder
But I know that you'll find another
That doesn't always make you want to cry

Started with a perfect kiss then we could feel the poison set in
Perfect couldn't keep this love alive
You know that I love you so, I love you enough to let you go

It's almost an onimous sign. Is it so difficult?

Yes. It is. It breaks my heart. My very core of my soul.

But isn't this what it is about? Sacrifice? So much has been done for me. It's time for me to do the same for others. It's not that I need to 'payback' or get retribution. I'm doing it against the very intuition, desire and hope that I have. The few things that keep me breathing and feeling alive. I can see why they say love is tough. It's like the pouring out of one's soul, putting it at the very risk of someone abusing it, breaking it, trampling on it, belittling it.

I really don't mean to sound so.... down? But I'm not. I'm just reflecting.

Those who are thristy, come to me and drink.

It's like my feet knows exactly where to take me, even my head cannot conjure the images that I lost 3 years ago.

I wouldn't call it a pilgramage although it does feel like there needed to be some closure, or some consolation from this journey. It's like so much has changed and so much hasn't. I find comfort in the things that stayed the same, and I found beauty in the things that didn't. Random images come to my mind and I come to realize that maybe my memory isn't as good as I thought it to be. Or maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough.

"City lights shine down upon the place that I call home
Surrounded by a million but I feel like I'm alone
And I might be a nobody to you
But if I'm playing, would you listen?"

The stinging cold winds on my face, the 'wrong' side of traffic, the mere insignificance of my existence around those I pass by, was this what's left behind?

But I am content.

It struck me how Law cannot save.
No one does everything right.
No one.

How can you call yourself merciful and loving if you tie strings to the forgiveness given?

No.

Someone asked me, how can you love your children equally if one child is always doing wrong things and breaking your heart?

Then what is the point of love? Is it to be earned? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of it all? Because no one can earn enough.

The point of Love is exactly that we will not be able to earn it, and yet we are still shown love.

I'm glad I came. It's good therapy.