I came across this again today. Funnily enough, the first time I read this poem I was madly, sadly, "in love" with an inappropriate man who, though never giving me any reason to believe he could ever possibly care for me back, always did enough to keep me hoping. Like breathing. Then one day I was ready to care about someone and have them be a real part of my life and I moved on.
Autobiography In Five Chapters
adapted from The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, by Sogyal Rinpoche
Ch. 1
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost... I am hopeless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
Ch. 2
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I'm in the same place.
But it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
Ch. 3
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in... it's a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
Ch. 4
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
Ch. 5
I walk down another street.
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