The Man in the Corner

I’ve often said that it’s not the things we do that we live to regret, but rather the things that we never did. A mistake can be forgiven, but life un-lived is not so easily forgotten.

Do you really regret loving the woman who you grew apart with in the end? Or do you regret not taking your shot with the girl who still haunts your memory today? Leading question. I know.

From experience.

Well, that is to say I did end up taking my shot in the end. And we're married now. So I suppose things are turning out alright. Let's hope my wife would agree.

I digress.

A Kind of Knowing

It may be often that we lose our way. But that alone may not trouble us as deeply as you may think. One can be lost for lack of knowing. Genuine ignorance can be easier to forgive.

But it's times when we betray the voice within. When the great deep calls to us and begets a kind of knowing about our way—and we err from the path.

It is then that we become beggars of our own choosing. For we did not lose our way, but forsook it.

Some will call this voice your conscious. Others, your intuition. Still some, the voice of God.

I know mine as the man in the corner.

Because he won't go away. He seldom speaks. He doesn't need to. But he's always watching. And still more terrifying, he knows me deeply.

The Man in the Corner

I imagine being in a new setting—a room full of new people. And there I am in the center, making acquaintances. Carrying conversation. Sharing my story. But a good friend is with me in the room. He's sitting quietly in the corner, watching as I entertain a small gathering.

Someone asks what I do for a living. Someone else, what my goals are for the next year. The small talk is deafening. To these new people, I am but a kind stranger. I could tell them anything. I could be anyone. And they would be none the wiser.

But to the man in the corner, my words do little to conceal who I really am. And he's quietly listening to every word. If I lie, he'll know. If I tell a half-truth, he'll know. He wouldn't confront me in front of everyone. But one glance would say it all.

The pressure to fit and fall in line is intense. The temptation to be who people want you to be and not who you are, is fierce. You tell yourself it's just "simpler" this way, as you sell your soul with every successive compromise.

turns into

becomes

You were so close to being authentic. But you opted for the approval of your peers instead. And you got it. You slip by undetected. And as far as they're concerned you're one of them.

But there's just one person left who you haven't fooled. The disappointment in his eyes as you gain the world, and lose your soul.

It's You

The real you. You have a voice like that too. We all do. Let me save you years of regret and a lifetime of un-fulfillment.

That voice won't go away.

You can ignore it. Maybe for a little while. You can make yourself busy, and drown it out in all the noise. But that won't last forever. That won't last for long.

Because things eventually quiet down. And you're lying awake at night, alone with your thoughts. There's nothing to do. There's no one there to fool. There's no one there to save you from the ghost of the man you could've been.

And in the quiet, you hear a still, small voice. It whispers to you of doors nearly shut, but left open still. It calls to you from beyond the walls of your garden. It beckons you to cast off the disguises that are all but you.

And to go on the adventure of your life.

It is then that you are brought face-to-face with all the things that are so inconveniently you.

It is then that you look in the mirror and see not yourself—but the man in the corner.

And you know who you must be. You know that you must go. You know the way.

All that is left is to go.

Godspeed, my friend.

— David Kennedy