If a blind man tells you it’s difficult to shop for groceries, you believe him.
If a bmx rider tells you it’s hard to take a turn on a bike with mud in his wheels, you believe him.
If a dog breeder tells you that certain breeds don’t get along in the yard, you believe them.
If a soldier says it’s hard to be thousands of miles from their family, you believe them.
When a figure skater says that learning to do a double axle is difficult you believe them.
You believe them.
Because you KNOW that you don’t know.
So why when a minority or marginalized demographic tells you what they experience do you stand in disbelief?
There is evidence of what they say.
Centuries of history.
Acts on camera.
Laws of old.
But you don’t believe them.
I can only draw one conclusion.
You have something to cover or something to lose
You have too much pride and can’t admit that you’re wrong
You’re misinformed or naive.
You don’t know.
When I ask people to be objective, they can do it in any area outside of race and religion it seems.
I have a dog and you don’t? Let me tell you about dogs.
I have a degree and you don’t? Let me educate you.
Those who attempt to discredit what the persecuted claim to experience don’t seem to give it a second of thought.
It seems simple.
The 60’s weren’t long ago.
We aren’t perfect.
In comparison to other countries longevity, the United States is a teenager.
Our rebellion for the sake of liberty brought us into being.
That spirit is dying in some of us.
Half of us have aged without wisdom and turned into a comfortable and fat middle aged man with a desk and health insurance.
To keep his job he has to obey. Fall in line. Forget his dreams.
Thank God (if you have one) for the rest of us.
We won’t let that fighting spirit die.
That brave spark that screams, “GIVE ME LIBERTY OR GIVE ME DEATH!”
And while you’re at it. Give it to my brothers and sisters as well.
Closed doors and closed minds feed the glutton and the bigot.
How can we stand for the anthem that depicts us as the home of the brave as we shut our doors to those who cry in desperate shrieks for assylum, all because we are AFRAID of a handful of terrorists that may resemble them.
I love my country.
I love that flag.
That’s why we speak up.
Because only an arrogant fool could say we are perfect and have no need to improve.
We were once a world ruler on the basis of moral authority.
Every one of those things is under fire.
That is why we rise. And, that is why we respectfully kneel.
This country isn’t what it was or could be.
So we let it be known that we are aware.
We are aware and loud so that our government might make a change.
No one is harmed. No one is dying for our protest.
Other than Heather Heyer. Eric Garner. Michael Brown. Laquan Mcdonald. Tamir Rice. Walter Scott. Freddie Gray. Sandra Bland. Alton Sterling. Philando Castile. Terrance Crutcher. Or any of the 309 black people killed by police in this country in 2016.
Or the many mentally ill or disabled Americans who were fatally wounded because they couldn’t communicate.
Hate and prejudice did this.
But it lives in the hearts of ill informed men.
Inequality is not a myth. Or an excuse.
It’s a reality and just because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
Many have seen it and been brave enough to stand against it.
What do they have to gain by protesting it?
Why would they make it all up?
More hateful words?
They aim for equality and Justice.
They want this country to be what that anthem dictates!
They want those words to be true.
I used to cry when I heard it played in an arena.
I believed that anthem when I was young.
Now I cry because we have strayed so far from those values.
We’ve become the antithesis of what we once believed in.
The day of the white man in charge has got to end. Others have proven to be just as valuable.
If you can’t play on an even playing field, that’s your fault, not theirs.
They want and deserve those inaliable rights.
The pursuit of justice.
Lots of people find an insistence on posting political material to be annoying.
But, here’s how I see it, dudes.
We have to engage to be a part of things. Whatever your opinion is, have it.
Talk about it.
Better yet, talk about it with people who disagree with you.
Do it as respectfully as you can, of course.
I’m no saint.
I’ve allowed my soul to catch fire and my words to get heated.
Nothing came of those arguments.
So I aim to develop DISCUSSIONS.
Discussions where we meet on common ground. Where our bubbles intertwine and we feel no threat from one another.
That’s when the walls come down and the eyes and minds open.
We are all in this together.
But, I won’t sit by idly and ignore what is going on because it makes me uncomfortable to interact, or because I may have to admit I’m wrong or fight for what I know is right.
I’ve got to take part IN it to call myself a part OF it.
A contributing member of society.
Not a faceless troll or a haphazard voter.
Education comes from those whose ideas oppose mine.
That’s when my mind grows, even if they’re wrong.
That’s when I see what I don’t already know.
Then I seek out what I can intellectually gain from.
Be patient. Kind. Humble.
Realize the value of your belief and the value of theirs.
If their belief hurts another human being it detracts from the concern I have for them.
It’s some kind of humanitarian law.
But, it’s theirs. Not yours.
And you won’t convince them to think otherwise with hateful words or angry glares or even a gun to the head.
Intelligent and fact checked, source cited information won’t reach those who are unwilling to budge.
Cut your losses for a moment and move on to those willing to hear an inciteful voice.
You can’t help those who need to be helped by bullying the bully.
It only makes the bully more angry and vengeful.
Love Trump’s Hate
Hell if I’ll be militant.
Hell if I’ll be hateful.
Sh*t in between isn’t exactly impactful either.
I grew up under Obama.
Came up under bush Jr.
Was a child with the Clinton and Reagan reign.
What I’m doing now is the best I can do because this “president” is as close to Hitler as I hope we ever come.
I can’t be peaceful and hippie and Hycaeit via 1969. I’d be that girl again. But the world came forward and now we’ve gone behind. So we have to catch up.
I’m not mincing words anymore.
You’ve heard it before.
Didn’t hear the warning? Your bad.
Not me. Not mine.
Catch up or shove off.
There was a time for peaceful protests and we tried to break it to you gently.
You didn’t hear it.
TOO BAD FOR YOU CHANGE COMES ANYWAY.
Decades of protests
Years of the same words.
Try to take us backwards
WE GET LOUD.
HELL. you can’t take us all down. Not gonna happen.
Because the battle was fought and won.
You’re trying to erase it.
Good luck. We have the high score.
Try unplugging the macine😋
I don’t know why I’m sending this or if you’ll even get it. I guess I’m hoping for the latter. Or I’m just crazy and can’t seem to let you go.
The words have been swirling in my head for a while now. Over and over, what I’d say to you, yet, they’re t really clear enough to actually call you and say them to your face.
Maybe I think writing them down will help to truly wash my hands of you. Please accept my apology if I ramble on a bit.
I’ve heard things here and there and I do genuinely hope you’re okay.
I guess, in a way, I have to thank you for the shady things you’ve done to me.
I know that everyday you have to live with them and, deep down, I hope you feel some remorse.
Though a big part of me doubts you do.
I’m now out traveling the world.
I just hit my 38th country.
I know I should hate you and despise you, but, I can’t.
I’m not that kind of person.
Against better judgement, I forgave you a long time ago. You’re part of who and what has made me into what I am today, sitting on the beach of an island in Australia. Looking up at some of the most amazing stars I’ve ever seen.
Even so, it brings me back to us drinking wine and watching airplanes come in over the valley of the desert in “our secret” spot. A spot that I never shared with anyone else.
As much as I think you’re a sack of shit…
Part of me loved you and you’ll always hold a place in my heart.
Part of me knew you as you knew me.
Part of me saw you in the weak forms.
The times when no one posts a fake image on social media.
The parts that are personal.
The parts that resonate with the intimate aquaintances.
The gross faces.
The bad bits.
The zits and the rolls.
The double chinned angles, and the waking breath.
You, more than most people, know how hard I am to crack. How hard it is to get into my heart.
Somehow, you managed to do that.
It makes me sad and angry and happy all at the same time to know that you accomplished such a monumental feat.
Without you I wouldn’t be where I am today.
I guess there is sometimes a feeling…
A feeling that the moving on will never happen and it will never be over if the chance to say what needs to be said doesn’t come.
Closer to the new start and old comfortable feelings.
The feelings I had before we met.
I’ll be different when I let you go because of all we’ve shared, but it won’t be a different soul in me, just a new perspective.
I’ll be free to claim my spirit again and see it with new eyes.
Eyes that couldn’t see this way had we never met.
In part the change comes from your actions and partly because of mine. Some of it caused by my experience and some caused by things you did.
This moving on, it’s never certain. How is it done? Is it right? Why do I feel this way? When is it over? All I know for certain is,
I get to be me again.
That’s my greatest gift.
That’s everyone’s greatest gift.
It must be done.
It’s over. No matter what was left unsaid.
No matter what we didn’t get to do.
We are done.
I am done.
And I get to be me to once more.
No matter what.
No matter where.
No matter who I leave behind.
I get to be me once more.
To my beautiful girl, I give you these words.
Well, my dear, it may seem this world was never meant for us, not the way it is now, not the way it has been. But, my darling, nothing worthwhile was made perfect from the start.
Everything craved, lusted for, and containing real value started in someone’s dreams.
It took molding and shaping and relentless perseverance on the part of some Great Creator to turn dirt into the smooth painted walls of the cliff.
The painted desert walls of Southern Dakota or the Grand canyon. The dust had to gather and settle and harden, the river had to etch in it it’s name. That is what it takes to make true beauty and art and YOU, my precious darling, are art.
They’ll lie to you every day.
You’ll see these lies on television, in movies, on billboards, from sources deemed reputable by leaders and authority.
You’ll hear them in songs and out of the mouths of the ones you trust,
listen to my voice, child.
Let it ring loudly each time you need it.
I’ll scream it into a jar for you to keep safe.
I will tell you the truth as I’ve learned it the hard way and I’m telling you now that this truth will not change.
You’re beautiful, that’s true.
But what can that body do that will last more than a century?
Nothing more than a memory in the minds of those you meet will that body become.
Your mind is your asset, your strength, your own source of energy and with it you will create poetry and think great thoughts that will be repeated endlessly by others who seek to feel your souls starlight.
Your strength and your will.
Your wit and your might.
THEY will travel through time while your body will rot, but not the fruits of your mind.
Your voice will echo forever if behind it you place intentions that are pure and words that are wise.
Your soul is sacred and eternal so let it be free and unspoiled, untainted and untethered by the fleeting expectations of a society that is only as valuable as a tear drop in the sea.
If you let them smother you with their misguided truth and intentions, you , my sweet girl, will break your own heart.
No one can break it from the outside because, unlike man, you are not made of stone, but of gold.
Malleable and soft, precious and rare. As they try to break you, you will bend and stretch under the hammer.
You will sway as their screams of inequality create hurricanes of wasted wind, because some Great Creator that cannot be fathomed made you with a great purpose.
It is one that will remain unexplained until you are capable of understanding it and strengthened enough by experience to head into it without fear while holding His hand with a faith that no religion could contain.
You, my sweet one, are exquisite, far beyond the words of all languages combined.
There is no term for what you will become because they will coin one when you reveal what it is you were created for. You are capable of creating the future we have fought for and the one you deserve.
The responsibility may seem too great and too heavy and you may falter and fall but never give up, never stay down.
Your spirit is a magnet and others will join you to help you carry the weighty load and together you will become more than the bearers of life but the creators of a world worth living in.
You, my little girl, can do anything and no one can stop you for you are magnificent in a way that transcends their realm of understanding and enters into one that exists to you alone.
You are a dancing and sparkling spirit, affecting change, fortifying the future with goodness and justice.
You are a gift to all mankind and should be treated as such, without exception.
They will try to lessen you and attempt to dull you down and this is the time to take out that jar.
Open it in front of them and the screams of those who’ve fought the battle before you will force them back and deafen them.
They will fall to their knees.
The strength is yours.
The wisdom has been freely given and rightfully earned.
Use it and never forget that your power requires no explanation, justification, or excuse.
It needs only an outlet in the form of a song, an essay, a speech.
Whatever you choose, if you use it well and with grace and love, it will live inside the souls of the ones you’ll save with it, for eternity.
You, my baby, can do anything.
Let no one steal that from you with noise and normality.
With these words I deliver into your hands your own destiny. In your hands is where it belongs. Hide it from no one so others may see you and seek you out. Let them be fortified while taking shelter under your wild wings above. Teach them to be strong. You’re more than they’ll allow you to realize, so, I’ll tell you now and repeat it as often as needed. You are the way forward, the answers, the truth. Shine bright, little darling. Be brave, teach others, stay true. You are the future you’re wishing for. The entire universe lives inside of you. Use it.
Aesop’s fables told us everything we needed to know as children.
I read a large volume, hard covered copy in the library many times as a child.
It was thick and heavy and felt full. I felt full holding it on that old library floor.
That old library used to be a church and the knowledge I found within continues to be sacred to me.
Aesop told a story of a farmer and a viper. For a class project in the 6th grade I acted it out in a play.
I picked that fable to act out because it struck me as important then. I dressed in a heavy flannel shirt and wore jeans and my dad’s old hat. I had a silk snake stuffed with sand as my antagonist. I used to collect those at craft fairs because they felt so real.
It all felt real that day in Mr. Moser’s class.
I was terrified. But I did my best to tell the tale.
Here is what I learned about the farmer and the viper…
It may be easiest to bite the hand that feeds you. After all, their hand is so near your fang. But, in the end, you stand to lose every ounce of sustenance that you have ever known. You will undoubtedly starve. Worse yet, you’ll live a life of shame thereafter. Shame you’ll never rid yourself of.
So, I beg you, reconsider your hasty reactions to words and actions that may displease you.
Please, do not bite the hand that feeds you.
WE will be damned every time for “pitying the scoundrel” and we can NOT expect a reward from the wicked.
Thank you Wild Woman Sisterhood and Rudy Francisco for this powerful reminder of my most important goal and only agenda.
I thought I’d have this eye opening experience where life and my purpose would just click and make sense…. but here I sit 2 months into the trip of my lifetime, in a random country, where I know no one, and I feel so alone. I have no purpose, no path and it’s utterly confusing. What am I doing? Why am I here? What am I actually looking for? Did I make a mistake? I’m 100% free from everything I thought I wanted to be free from. Wandering the world like a true gypsy… I belong to no man or no city, yet,
it’s like I’m trying to feel my way through the darkness. Searching for my people/my tribe. The one place I truly belong. Budapest has been the closest I’ve come… and, it scared me…. they were weird and strange and wonderful and hardly showered, all make love… they lived in an old ruined building that resembled a crack den…. still I ran. With the fear behind me I’d stay forever and miss out on something on that “feeling” I’ve been searching for… the feeling I have no fucking clue what it is or if it even exists. Maybe I just need to embrace that and run straight back into their happy family of weirdness. To the Dirty people who want peace. It sounds right to me! There are too many clean people who want nothing but war.
Still I feel alone. This loneliness won’t seem to leave. I can never seem to escape it. Maybe it’s my empathic nature and I’m simply absorbing the loneliness around me is this giant world of truly lonely people. As I look at the man across the room from me and my heart breaks for him. I can feel his feelings, his sadness like I’m drinking them down as I would a glass of water. Consuming every ounce of me. How do I help him? How do I help myself? Literally fighting my own tears back as I try to look into his life. The crows feet around his eye intrigue me. I want to know where he’s been, how old is he, what his stories are that made him laugh that made him cry. The stories behind what brought him here today. Sitting alone drinking a beer.
Soaking up his energy is hard for me but also inviting and full of pure sadness.
My friends, this woman is one of the most magnificent specimens of selflessness and kindness on this planet. She is genuine and pure and unique. She’s my best friend. One I haven’t seen in years but, I don’t need to in order to know she’s still there. She and I are connected by something real and rare. We are bonded in a way that, unfortunately, i don’t think many will ever feel. She says soul sister. That’s very true. I don’t know what a soul is made of. I don’t know who gave mine to me. But everything in me knows that hers and mine are very much the same and it kills me when she says things like, “This loneliness won’t leave me alone.” That is beautiful. It’s that kind of absurd irony that makes life so strange and beautiful.
We’ve lived very different lives but have come to the same conclusions on most things. Mostly we believe that there is an overwhelming need for kindness, love, and acceptance on this planet and that we have to work to do something to combat the people in this world who preach the opposite.
Let me tell you about my friend.
She and I grew up in the same area. It was a rural one and most people don’t leave there. We certainly did (although I’m back there for reasons). It’s a lovely place, as all places are. It is typically the people that screw places up.
During our younger years she and I weren’t that close at all. We were friends but we had different best friends and we were often among different groups of people. When we were both still in high school it seems we simultaneously hit a wall. We each found our own vices to cope with the onset of awfulness that was our emergence into this modern society. I don’t know if she could pinpoint the feelings that drove her to destruction back then. I never asked. Maybe I should have. Mine were fairly clear but took a decade to dig out from.
“I’m not what I’m supposed to be.”
That phrase would ring through my mind over and over again. I spent time trying to conform within my own code of conduct but, none of it ever felt right. I went to college thinking I’d found a path I could live on. That didn’t really work out. She came to see me a few times as she attempted to escape the asylum the world wanted to put her in. That’s not my story to tell but, guys, it’s a good one.
Anyway, when the dust settled after the disastrous teenage years were behind us, we found we were closer than ever. She may have been a teenager still, come to think of it. I don’t really know. I know she’s younger than me but I can never remember by how much. Some reading this may think, “How can you not know how old she is if you call her your best friend?” Well, it never seemed to matter. In high school she was more mature than I was. By A LOT. She taught me the drama and standards of female friendships were COMPLETELY unnecessary. That changed me. Her free spirit punched my free spirit right in the gut with that. I remember thinking, “I don’t have to participate in this nonsense?” I was under the impression that I was bound to that code or I’d be left alone. I thank whoever created our consciousness that she showed me I was wrong.
I guess you could say, as we figured out more of who we really were, our spirits came closer to alignment within our individual selves and then became closer to alignment with each other as they are so similar.
I always felt her spirit was a good bit stronger than mine. I had a tendency to draw myself inward and she forced herself out into the fray. She has well developed social skills because of this whereas I hide in my head and behind the keys of a computer in an effort to riddle it all out.
I had a family and a marriage and I moved away from her and everyone I knew just trying to do what was right and grow into what I thought I should be and what I felt I was being directed to become. She was in a serious relationship with a dude, had a real job, a house, and some dogs. We seemed to be finally fitting in.
But, it still didn’t feel right.
She called me one day. She told me she wasn’t happy in that spot. The world was so small there. Everything is the same over and over again. The people and the places and the experiences are quite limited when you live in the Midwest. So, I told her to stop worrying about obligations to others if she knew she’d be miserable in those boundaries. I told her to live for herself.
I’m sure she had already decided what she needed to do. That conversation couldn’t have held much weight. She does what she’s compelled to do and it’s magnificent because she’s one of the rare ones who can be trusted to do well with that kind of power.
She moved to the desert of Arizona. I was in the deep south. We spoke on the phone maybe twice a year, but, in those conversations from thousands of miles away, I felt more of a connection to her than I’d felt with any other and in a way that made up for all of what I felt was meaningless in my day to day interactions. Speaking with her refreshed me and made me feel like there was hope for true happiness.
From Arizona her world has only gotten bigger as she’s joined with philanthropic teams to assist those in need. Her world, it just keeps getting bigger.
I can see why she’s lost. We don’t have what is required to travel the paved roads on the maps that seem so popular. Their way doesn’t fill us up. Also, doing what does come naturally and what feels right doesn’t garner us any praise. We are often scorned for our actions in ways that don’t make sense to us. We are asked why we would be kind to certain people. Why would you give so much for someone you don’t know? Why would you do this and that and the other thing? It’s like we are weird and abnormal and strange and, maybe we are.
There’s a lack of appreciation in a life like that. A lack of acceptance, a longing for camaraderie and, let’s face it, we were taught to need those things. Shaking that bad habit is hard as hell. When you’re an empathetic soul it hurts to watch people hurt each other. When you see an end to all of the useless pain and you’re told it will never work because of old ideas and standards you start to think others refuse to see the future and it’s frustrating and unfortunately, the laws are made in their favor so, you are forced to bend to their will in a lot of ways. It’s a bummer.
Maybe we evolved too early. Maybe it’s harder for us to find the like minded in a crowd because we are a sparse group of folks. Or maybe we were born too late. That hippie culture lingered but it feels like it’s gone.
Regardless, the answers you’re searching for, my dearest friend, they aren’t out there. They never were. Whatever made us all gave the plan to us when he/she/it made our souls. They were attached to us before we were born so they couldn’t be taken from us. So everyone had a fair shot at happiness and fulfillment. Who you’re supposed to be and where you’re supposed to go and what you’re supposed to do are things you already know and you, precious Starchild, you’re lucky enough to be one of the brilliant ones who doesn’t need to be directed. You’re soul is smart enough and loud enough to drive you there. If you get it wrong something will turn you around. If it doesn’t feel right, walk away. Or run. You’ve been so far and you’ve done so much good. Your intentions are PURE and your motives are clear. You’re exactly who and what and where you’re supposed to be.
If you don’t feel appreciated it is only because most people don’t know how to appreciate you. You’re like one of those stipple paintings that looks like dots up close to people who don’t know well enough to take a step back. You’re just too big for their small views. And that’s ok. Because there are a few exceptional people out there who can see you for all of the glorious good that you are. Don’t be lonely. We feel you there. Alllllll the way over there.
One person’s appreciation doesn’t feel like enough sometimes. Especially when you give so much of yourself without asking for much in return. Administering polio vaccines and helping to build water filtration systems. Jeez, man. You should never have to doubt your beauty and worth. You should never have to search for validation. But you will have to.
Some days you won’t feel any love at all. Then you have to look for it and, on the way, you’ll find something that’s going to change you. The next step. It always starts in a moment of discomfort or pain. You’re about to grow wings, you beautiful creature. Soon enough, you won’t have to look for anything at all. You’ll have found it all inside of you. And you’ll find that there is so much in there that you need not fear sharing it with any and everyone you come across because, if there is one thing I know, people like you never run out of love.
Love is what fuels you. Love fuels us all and a lot of people replaced it with something else. I’m afraid many have forgotten what it really feels and looks like in it’s many magnificent forms but, you have it in abundance and it’s not going anywhere.
I imagine you’ve seen things that make your efforts seem small, as exhausting as they have been. They aren’t small. And neither are you. When you reach out your hand or extend your love with that brilliant smile, you plug into another soul. And they bring it to another and on and on and on and, before you know it, your smile improved the whole of humanity. How can anyone feel alone when they start seeing that? It may sound trite but, you’ll see it, if you’re looking for it.
You’re strong. Smart. Capable. Diligent in an effort to make humanity more positive and pleasant. You’re important. Just because you aren’t “following the rules” doesn’t mean you’re off course. I’m sure there are kids in India who’d be dead had they not met you. YOU are everything you’re supposed to be, doing exactly what you’re supposed to do, exactly where you’re supposed to be.
I love you.
I miss your face
This post was written by Andrea and I am honored to publish it here for her.
Love you, you wonderful wanderer.
These feelings are always so strange and foreign to me, even though they are feelings that have constantly passed, like waves, through my mind. I can never figure out why they are always so hard for me to digest properly and why they return, over and over, no matter how many times I try to analyze them. Like a lump in my throat I can’t seem to swallow. What is it about the constant pressure from society to settle down and procreate I can’t agree to, yet secretly a part of me longs for it?
Maybe I have been designed to live a life most people don’t understand. A life that I don’t understand and that I can’t seem to figure out. A life of solitude with a longing for things that simply no longer exist in the pure state I am looking for.
So many days I wonder how it is possible that I can be surrounded by so many people yet feel completely alone. Searching the crowds of people for someone to hold me. To provide me with that sense of reassurance in life we are all looking for. Yet, I constantly struggle with the thought of being viewed as property.
How can one be alone in a world filled with so many people?
Is it me who simply chooses this and has driven myself to become accustomed to this life style? To driving those away who might actually be worth letting in? To not being able to accept the fact that, over time, love fades and what you are left with is a comfortable nothingness? And this is what love actually is – OR- is this where I belong in life? Is this how my path was written from the beginning? To travel this world alone searching for feelings that aren’t real anymore? Seeking the true connection to another soul, never to find the one that was created solely for me?
At times I am overwhelmed by the affection from suitors coming at me from all directions. Yet, I can’t seem to find that person whom I feel I share that desired connection with. Or the person whose affection I actually want to embrace and return as one “should”.
Maybe this is because love doesn’t exist. It’s a fantasy that from an early age we are taught to yearn for. Or perhaps it does exist and I’m just blind to it -OR- quite possibly I’m just a fool and can’t see it when it’s right I front of me. I’m so busy searching for a feeling yet I have no idea what the feeling actually feels like. Searching for this “idea” of love I have in my head. This “feeling”.
How does one feel an idea, anyways? Is it even possible? And then we come to the part of always wanting the ones that don’t admire us in return. The ones that have no need for our affection.
As I sit here, in the silence of an apartment that belongs to a man I flew 1/2 way around the world to to see, that I’ve spent the past 6 days with, yet we’ve barely managed to speak 6 full sentences to each other, I wonder, why is it I still merely desire his affection?
The affection of a man who didn’t even have the courage to say goodbye to me when he left this morning, knowing that I’d be gone by the time he reached home, with no plans of returning anytime soon. A man who had no trouble expressing his desires with wandering hands in the dark of the night. Yet, he is the one who’s affection I seek?
I long to know how his day was spent. What he did. Who he may have met. Where he went. To sit and share a meal with him. To simply sit on the couch together letting the electricity of our connection bounce off one another’s skin. To hold his hand in silence or feel the protection of his arms wrapped around me in the middle of the night. To learn his desires, his passions, his dreams. To watch him sleep peacefully as my mind wonders imagining what he might be dreaming about. To breath in the scent of his skin. To keep the scent tucked away so I might be able to someday associate it to a distant memory in the far off future. To do all that is necessary to foster a meaningful connection. To know him and let him know me.
The affection of a man who, to me, appears to be so lonely in life that I cannot understand his unwillingness to return these desires or to acknowledge mine for him. To make the smallest amount of time for me when we only have a few short days together.
Could it be possible his loneliness is contagious? Is this why, once again, I am struggling to digest these feelings that are flooding my mind? Filling my mind? Or maybe, as I stated earlier, maybe I am the lonely one. The one that is so lost in being alone that it is my feelings that are contagious. Trying to fit into the idea of a society that was not meant for me nor one that I fit into.
There is never courage in running away, yet, time and time again, it seems like the best possible solution to me. Jump on a plane to a new destination. Fill my life with new people and new culture. New experiences. Maybe then these feelings will make sense? Maybe there my Prince Charming is waiting. Or maybe it is just another lonely place.
Again, perhaps I am the one running from him. I do seem to be the one who is always running. The one unwilling to put in the extra work to make him see his importance to me. The one who is not capable of giving or receiving the proper affection and attention needed to sustain a relationship. Maybe, after being alone for so long, his wandering hands were the only way he knew to express his affection towards me and I didn’t give him a fair chance, rushing straight to judgement and rejection.
On a side note, as I once again jet off to a new destination in search of something I am unsure exsists, the two beside me on the plane seem to be so madly in love with one another that I can’t help but have faith in a love like theirs, but for me.
If love is to be seen in a spectrum, just as most emotions are, my empathy and experience have given me a broader view of the gravity and intensity love has to offer. I have seen heavy depths. The pressure in that dark sadness can truly turn coal into diamonds. I have seen humanity triumph from hopelessness, overcoming death and disease. Strangers raising forgotten souls from the dead. Children who were anonymous and unknown being given a chance at life from a person who grew up on the other side of the world using love to guide them to their good and philanthropic tasks. I’ve seen a variety and a vastness that many can’t comprehend and it has given me the burden of desire for a deep and heavy love.
Why would I lay that load on someone who couldn’t hoist it? My search will be harder but, in the end, I hope it finds me in a love more worthwhile. Real. Pure. Grand. Having nothing to do with proximity and common interests and everything to do with a spiritual connection and the true admiration of souls that see each other through the flesh and bone of bodies. A love that lives. One that’s eternal. One that exists now because it always has, outside of the temporary anatomy I was born into, in the realm of the everlasting subconscious that has endured over millenia and shall exsist in many forms until the end. A love that is both effortless and exhausting. Both immensely thick and heavy but, also weightless. One that stays outside societal parameters so it can carry it’s meaning through all of space and time as all unending things do.
Something like that is the love I seek.
Indulging in what my body craves does not satisfy my soul it merely quells the hunger pangs. It tides me over as I wait for the thing that will truly satisfy what this vessel’s soul is in search of.
I have a thirst for a love with a lack of worldly conditions but a need for godly ideals. It is filling and smooth and immediately recognized. I want Mana from heaven not mcdonalds.
I have the patience. I have the determination. I have the knowledge of what I truly need. But, the question that always lingers is, do I have the time in this body, in this place? Do I have the time? I have the courage but I must continue to pray for the sight so it doesn’t pass me by.