Schism

(I started this post last week sometime and am still not done but oh well)
Still thinking about that stupid myspace comment my drunken old friend wrote. I'm amazed how much it's still in my head, not necessarily bothering me, but bouncing around nonetheless. It's like a damn superball stuck in there. Lots of thoughts on shame, regret, secrets, desired do-overs and real resentment. You know, little light and fluffy things. Like pretty bunnies.

Thing is, I don't ever want to be one who lives in those things; I don't even want to pass through them. But time and again I find myself mired in them; playing what-ifs behind blank stares. Sometimes it feels like I'm watching old home movies in my head; the old 8mm type where mute actions are disjointed, jumpy and off their technicolor perfection. The only sound is the clicking of the frames. (This is a terrible byproduct of long hours working by oneself doing mundane tasks. Even the most minute thought process will simmer and grow. And then I'm saved by "This American Life" podcasts).
What is shame, really? all definitions have words like "dishonor", "improper", "pain", "regret" in them. Yup, don't want that. I hate how this has been eating me, but I feel like I'm slowly learning the realities of living a life that has a great schism in its history.