Humans love round numbers. We celebrate them in anniversaries (10 years, 25 years, 50 years), birthdays (50, 75, 100) [16 and 21 are strange exceptions, created by societies through drivers' licences, age of consent, legal age to vote/drink/marry etc.], sporting events (10 second races), and snacks (100 calorie packs).

What makes round numbers special? In themselves maybe they are just easier to process. Maybe they intuitively sound bigger and better than their predecessors. Maybe it’s because we have round numbers of counting implements on our bodies (10 fingers, 10 toes). TV has taken the fascination with round numbers and turned it into one eccentric “quirk” of Monk, who once requested his bail be set at ‘an even one million’, or who, in another episode, freaked when he realized he had solved 101 cases (instead of 100 as he thought) which meant he had to keep going to the next round number.

I have just hit my round number, and have had flutterings of the same uneasiness. My last post was post number 500. Although I did dream of writing over one thousand posts, now that I have hit this milestone, I find myself quivering inside at the thought of the next 500 in front of me. I instinctively know I won’t be able to stop before I hit 1000 because it would be too weird to say I wrote 739 posts on my blog, for example. 

So for better, or for worse, I have (with this post) started on the path towards my next round number.

The lightness that comes from relieving yourself of the weight of the truth is tempered by the truth of its  irreversibility.

We want what others have, until we get it

We want what we think others have, until we know

We want what is held away from us, even if it is theirs

We want what is bad for us, even if it hurts

We want what we had, though it can never return

We want what we think we had, though it wasn’t

We want what we could have had, in another time

We want what we should have had, left up to us

We want what we think we may lose, though we have  not

We want what we need, or need not, all for want

We want everything which leaves us wanting nothing

It is always easy to think of what you could have done, after the situation has passed, when you have moved to the next in a series of circumstances that make up your day.

Surrounded by grains of eternity
Telling their story, our story
The silent stillness within
Washed by the quiet waves
A perfect ceiling unmarked
By passing cumulations
Warmth spreading throughout
Connecting earth to sky to soul

…of where I’ve been
…of what this is
…of who I am
…of who you are
…of what I see
…of what I feel
…of what I want

…to dream
…to look your way
…to think too much
…to say too much
…to be wrong
…to know for sure
…to admit the truth

A step back
To another time
Or into an unknown future
Exploring traces
Of a personal history 
Creating possible
Paths to somewhere
Magic and science
Mingle in minds
Realistic daydreams
Confuse the awake
Faded memories
Washed out
Journeys through time

• Jan: Some things never change
• Feb: Ask for what you want
• Mar: Live and learn
• Apr: Sometimes the voices are right
• May: You can know
• Jun: Let go of the fear
• Jul: Thank yourself
• Aug: Just keep breathing
• Sep: Just do it!
• Oct: Keep your power
• Nov: Make it fun
• Dec: Good things can end

A mumbled reply
Though the asker
Has moved on
Says nothing but
Could mean anything
Positive barely
Really just passive
Without thought
Afraid to say
That we really
Are not

I hate the way you made me feel
Less than I knew I was worth
A toy to simply pass your time
 To take what you put forth

I hate the way you used my words
Tore down my strong esteem
A child to merely bear the brunt 
Of your anger at losing your dream 

I hate the way you turned your back
Enemies without even a war
A stranger with no part of your heart
Alone, left to love from afar 

I hate the way you chose to forget
The hurt and pain left behind
A figment of some broken past
Trivial to your state of mind

I hate the way you made an excuse
Just words with no real sorrow
A symptom with no real fault
Practices you saw fit to borrow 

I hate the way you have changed
Becoming even more of a man
A familiar friend I once told goodbye
Saying hello with a kiss to the hand

I hate the way you make me feel
Welcome back into your life
A fresh start to a friendship
Cuts through my heart like a knife

I hate the way I can’t hate you
The same way I used to love 
A feeling confused with memory
I hate the very idea of…