Words of "Wisdom"

So many times in life, words are lost on those we say them to.  Advice given but never heeded, opinions said but never taken into consideration.  What good then does the ability to speak serve if one is never heard?  Why care enough to speak, to use ones vocal chords, when the sound emitted falls on deaf ears?  So often thoughts are expressed to subjects who are unwilling to allow the words to penetrate them enough to cause a conscious thought.  The words of experience and the wise have no purpose to the young and reckless who seek only to gain immediate pleasure with complete disregard for future implications. 

But perhaps the fault lies with me.  Perhaps it is I who have the disease of over-thought and lack the gene of immediate gratification, a sense of living in the moment without caring about what happens or could happen.  Just to take that moment for what it is not what it could be. 

My experiences in life have forced me to mature faster than most, to see the world and its possibilities from a different perspective.  I analyze things deeper, feel things more passionately and try to tread as carefully as possible.  I cannot be as carefree as others, I feel this is a luxury I cannot afford.  As much as I wish, and try as I may to break free of these shackles, I find I am still held back by my fears and previous experiences from which my knowledge of such things comes from.  To let go would be to disown that knowledge, to deny its very existence. 

The ability to see past the physical exterior of people and see into their true selves is a gift that has both its benefits and its downfalls.  These readings have isolated me in a way that is difficult to describe and for others to fully comprehend.  It's like seeing a disaster long before it occurs but not being able to tell exactly what it is or when it will occur.  Merely that it's imminent.  As of yet, my readings have not failed me.  They have helped me to keep my distance from individuals who might otherwise cause me harm in some form.  But I have been unsuccessful in my attempts to help others see the dangers these people present, as in many, if not all cases, those who are most dangerous have the most convincing of outward appearances.  It is almost impossible to convince someone that despite what they can see and think they know about that person, something sinister lurks below the surface.  The truth revealing itself later; the damage and harm almost unbearable.

I fight hard to prevent those I care about from experiencing the pain I've been through.  I feel that no other human being should be put through the emotional torment I have had to experience in my short time on this earth and I suppose it is for this same reason I take it so hard when my warnings are ignored.  What then is the purpose of older generations if we are not to learn from their mistakes?  We all make our own paths in this life and we choose our own destiny.  Mistakes will be made, scars will be left, I guess my only hope is that one day, I can help in the prevention of at least one scar on a loved one, especially if that loved one is my own creation.

Contemplating Suicide

     As I write these words, perhaps the deepest irony would be that, unlike the title suggests, I am not actually contemplating suicide.  In fact, I am contemplating the exact opposite: life.  All that has been (past), and that is (present) and all that might be (future).  Perhaps the most meaningless of these three is the past, for I can no longer change it and thus it deserves no further thought.  For when has regret ever brought anyone success or sanity? 
     The future holds within it a great sense of mystery, fear and frustration.  Obsessing over what I do now and how it may affect me in the long run has become somewhat of a preoccupation, grasping me in such a way that I can no longer function in the present.  And without warning (or invitation) the past creeps back in, reminding me of my failures and short comings and an individual.  A lurking remnant, its only purpose these days is to inflict paranoia in me, causing anxiety with every decision I make in regards to my future.  As if to say, "It didn't work then, it's not going to work now." 
     Yet, of all these, it's the present I have the most difficulty with.  Dealing with the 'now', taking things as they are, expecting nothing more and nothing less.  Perhaps it has something to do with the pace; it's too idle for my liking.  I know they've always said progress was slow but I don't think I ever realized how snail-like it really is. 
     I live my life regretting many things in my past, though not all things, dreading my future and forgetting the present.  And it may be for these reasons that the title came to mind.  I will admit, I have contemplated suicide on more than one occasion.  But I think for now, I will try to contemplate the present, for it is called this because it is a gift.