Maybe one day I’ll have the guts

To explain just how the way you’ve made me feel is the way you were made to feel. Showing in detail the similarities between how your effected pain caused actions to do the same.

Maybe one day, I’ll feel different but as the days go on, the more I feel the same. The more I realize what I don’t want to say.

And maybe it’s just the lacking realization of how we act and how we want to be, not realizing so often that they are not one in the same. Not seeing how often what happens to us is just more of what affects how we happen to others.

It feels as if I haven’t cried in years yet my heart has been aching for decades. Slowly the chips fall away to show not the strength in where I stand but the melting fortress containing my fire and sometimes this looks like strength but right now it feels like hurt and pain and no matter which way I look, I’m not sure how to move forward. I don’t know where my path is, if there is one.

The lump in my throat grows but my tears will not fall. I walked aimlessly through the streets this day when you left and I had no thoughts to share, no tears to fall, no pain to understand. And before I realized my silence, I broke. I felt deeply and strongly and my heart hurt. I walked faster wanting only to slam myself in the ground, against the walls, into the sun.

Instead I walked. Responding with kindness and openness, none of which I felt.

It’s taken me weeks to see what I actually feel from this- to understand that there is not only goodness where you lie.

Maybe one day I’ll have the guts. To share truly how I feel. Maybe I’ll leave it here. With some slight faith that you don’t have a complete disregard for what I stand for.

Unfortunately at this point, I have proof of few things. Love is not one of them.

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I’m finally losing grip of the comparisons I’ve held. Finally letting go of the expectations I’ve mastered

My empty hopes have been bled dry. My heart can no longer hold on to the ideas of what could be within your distant heart.

I am screaming at the top of my lungs. I am burying my head in the sand- head stands. Suppressing all that I can while nothing in my heart allows it to be. Nothing in my soul allows you to pass or stand or disappear. You are not present. You are not here.

I want heartache and heart break so I can FEEL something- anything – let me feel. I am calming myself with love in the fact that what I need is not what I currently want.

For what I want is to be ripped open and torn apart and sewn back together- with and without. But see, there isn’t one with the strength for me- not now. See I’d have to lessen myself- my heart – my soul – in order to let anyone even close to the goal. And that’s not what I need- that’s what I won’t allow.

These days, I don’t make myself smaller, I make myself stronger. I make myself more me and less of what you think every second I stand. Every second I breathe.

I’m not afraid to be ‘extra’ or ‘dramatic’ or ‘crazy’ ‘too quick, too soon’ ‘wrong timing’ ‘wrong words’.

The boxes we create for our love, our relationships, are the ultimate death for any real love to ever transpire around you. Standing on the ledge, too scared to jump, but not to compare. Not to judge what love should look like from the eyes of someone who won’t even allow themselves to see. Won’t allow themselves to feel without eyes. See without touch.

The weakness is you. The crazy is your own idealizations holding back anything real that could be birthed within your soul.

What could be is still an imagination but there’s no imagination to be had if you are not what is. Wake up and breathe. Wake up and fight.

Wake up.

This I Know

I’ve never feared being forgotten. See, I’ve learned over time that there are some things you do not forget. They embed themselves into you like your imprint in a shoe. Part of you like the new freckles on your nose.

The memories that never cease when the winds sweep you so. You’ve got to see the power you carry to feel it as deeply as you give it. To understand as strongly as you possess, you must awaken to the awareness of yourself.

Yourself who loves to the deepest of seas, the darkest of clouds. She who seeks not what’s lost but what’s left to gain. What can be salvaged in the chaos will be the light that illuminates what no longer seems within grasp.

The abyss that screams back louder than any scream you could ever give. She welcomes your light like a challenge. There is no weakness in pain. There is no strength in suppression. To feel and to feel deeply will be my greatest accomplishment.

Like soup on a plate, I falter- I spill. Still, like the first sip of water, I want only to fill you up- with light, with fresh. Like a flower standing tall to the sun, gaining inches with droplets- I want not to take from you.

You who thinks all my you is about you. You who never knew my you was really you. My you’s for you and you and no one, sometimes.

See, I don’t fear being forgotten. I’m aware of the weight I carry. I’m present with the effects I cause- the emotions I fuel- the imagined worlds I create. I know I am not forgotten. I know I could not be.

Not Your Muse

Here’s a contradiction for you:

I can inspire, but I am NOT your Muse.

I don’t serve you & I’m not here for you.

I am not your gift. I am not your salvation.

No see, I am that to me, and me alone.

I will feed you but I am not your food.

While I will water you, still I am not your source. I am not your life.

I will not hold the burden that is your creative mind.

I refuse to shoulder your darkness while allowing my light to overtake yours.

What I give, I give endlessly but I do not give without thought.

With honesty I can speak with you but I will not sit on the pedestal you build.

I do not belong there.

I am not a marvel, a statue to be examined. To be dissected as an alien of your form.

I am a loose leaf in the wind. Forever moving, forever changing.

I am not what you want me to be.

Not how you imagine to be. I am not what you seek for what you seek is the myth within the stories. The melody of the song.

See I am not the myth, but the legend. I am not the melody but the meat.

I am not here to serve you. I am not here to carry the title of Muse.

I am no Muse. I am me. I am fulfilling and I will take it all back as quick as I desire.

There is no you in me.

35mm film

To Me

In total transparency, this is hard for me to write about. Love. Lust.

Love with lust and love without. Lust with and without. Which do you prefer?

I’m floating in a daydream where one moment had is on repeat so I can imagine myself still there. Still present in the moment of eye contact and body movements. These I want to soak in.

Similarly, while I believe this is love with lust, I have felt love without before and I can find it again. Create that again. Pushing down, ignoring the rising delights of what is not present. What is not where we are.

I’ve wrote about you a million times and I feel only gratitude that through every time, my words have come from love and with care. Never bitter, never hateful.

I’ve learned in these times what honesty really is. How to wholly move forward with openness and without resentment. To be vulnerable because the receiving end is just as trusting and worthy as the giver.

Moments of seeing, where eyes are met. Serendipitous.

Such high soaring joy, that brings. Such stinging strings of heart that pull.

Unlike a seed in my throat, I want not to swallow the truth of this. Me. You. Every bit. Sighing to ease.

This is not a piece of reaching or fighting for something that is not but could. This is more my soaking. Soaking in the joy of every bit of what is there.

The strength of friendship. The mesh of personality with the flow of conversation and bond of love. I love soaking in this.

So, I’ll keep this one short- but sweet. Here’s to the memories because I cherish every one. Here’s to what’s next and who we each become and watering that bond as we move along.

This friendship has forever changed me. I am incredibly thankful. And I write this here because I already tell you so often. This is for me. (Thanks for listening)

It Will Pass

It’s the moment after when you decide what you should have decided before. Let’s get all we can get before it’s called to quits. One moment gained for a lot more to be lost. Cheers to us.

It’s the heartbreak turned to anger because there’s no reason to feel hurt when I can feel mad. The avoidance of this to continue with what was but what was is no longer what is. The termination of a fleeting moment because good, there’s no real time for this anyways. What a waste.

It’s not the outcome but the memories that led up to it. It’s not the no but yes before the no. The change of mind that should have been the mindset regardless but here we go getting carried away as I usually do and should have not but it’s hard when it’s something you’ve only imagined and now seems to be real.

No no no not real, I know.

It’s the reasoning that even I feel that I can’t stand. The let’s not so we can. Fake fairy tales. I want to say sorry but I can not because there is no fault not really. I am less mad than sad. I am more hurt than shown. It’s fine- not faults here.

“You never know” they say.

Right, but I feel like you do.

This will pass and I hope the weirdness of whatever maybe I just feel goes with it. The moments gained could happily leave my memory without fret. Unfortunately, I don’t want to reside with them any longer. I would happily go back to the settings prior. Without confusion and desire to take back.

I do feel bad feeling this way because maybe I shouldn’t but it’s okay. It will pass. I should have held more restraint or more respect for myself I guess. Oh well. It will pass.

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Wanting more is the easiest thing I have done. To be content. What is this?

I’ve wanted more since the second I got a piece. I want the end and then I want it further. I get it further and then I must begin again.

Maybe being content is the equivalence of comfort. That moment where the soul is lost because you’ve found yourself sunken into your zone of zero threats, zero ambitions, zero risks. Maybe content is not something I’m made for.

And you know, fuck dwelling on this shit. We all make mistakes. Either accept what you’ve done or don’t but either way- the time to move on is always.

So maybe I sit here and I lecture myself through these texts, but what am I really accomplishing? See while my goal is always self-realization, my true desire is growth. Growth in my writing and growth in myself. To always be moving past my past. To constantly be gaining vision and perseverance. Inspiration comes from within. It does not just transpire. You’ve got to form it yourself.