-I might delete this later. Snippets from a long reflection.
-Wrote this a while ago, sort of an assortment of thoughts and ideas.
I’ve been trying to understand it, this bond, this drawn-ness, this sense that I’ve known you for longer than I really have. But there are some things that are inexplicable or perhaps can only be comprehended in a manner beyond words so I’ve thought less about the how and enjoyed the being, the here. There are few people I’m very close to, not out of a sense of privacy or aloofness, but because the connection wasn’t as strong, as vibrant, as sustainable.
*This is quite full of angst.
I am alone and empty. Lonely and invisible. Somebody touch me. Put your hands on me, please, please, make me feel. I have so much space inside me, so much room, just waiting to be filled, to be seen, to be held. Sometimes I believe I have much to give and offer but find myself uncertain where to go with my desire to give. Who would want or accept it? I love. But yet…all too often this isn’t enough. Tossed away, discarded-it’s not enough. Am I enough?
It always comes back to this one question. What am I doing with my life to impact, help, and transform others? Am I? And that bit hints at the underlying question that tinges all my insecurities and issues. It’s a usually silent but occasionally clawing uncertainty in my value, my quality, my goodness. What am I worth really?
But what have I, but what have I, my friend, to give you, what can you receive from me?
--To be edited at a future date. Made less uh...academic.
She sits in the middle of the bed staring straight ahead, greeting the morning sun, alone and unafraid. The sun shatters the darkness of the room but is not entirely reflected within.
“Open it,” my father says over his shoulder as he stands on a ladder applying a second layer of paint to our garage. This has been a year of renovations for my family. Gone is the tree with the birdfeeder, now reduced to a stump in the backyard. The single bathroom in the house has been transformed nearly beyond recognition and there’s talk of laying carpet in the living room to mask the battered wooden floor.
Disclaimer: this is merely my strange head trying to make sense of a tiny aspect of life. It may make absolutely no sense. Beware.
Because you asked…
Maybe the feminist side of me says that I shouldn't and cries inside whenever it happens. She probably yells about possession only to give up in defeat when I smile radiantly and feel the warm satisfaction that comes with being loved. I can't help it; I like it you say that I am yours.
Long ago on a night when it seemed as if I could touch the stars and melt in their light I told a girl to dream of me. My words fell into the air between us and floated away in the wind. "At least in dreams we could be together instead of separated by miles with only the stars knowing the truth about how lonely we each were and are."
I’ve heard it said that life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. There aren’t many moments in my life where I’ve been rendered breathless, but if I bother to count them I come up with four moments.
With Monday being one of the most important dates of my life I can't help but hit rewind on the tape of memories that exists in my head while taking long walks down Memory Lane. Has it really been eight years?
I remember everything.
I'm trying to tell my arms and heart that memories are enough, but they aren't satisfied with my mental images. My arms are having trouble adjusting to holding onto air. They automatically reach out to touch you but end up confused when nobody is there. And no matter what my brain tells my arms they're still desperately upset that they are now empty. As a matter of fact my head isn't doing much better as its barely keeping itself together. I can't get my mind around the fact that I can't be with you. And no matter how many times my heart tells my head that it's all right for I'll be with you again one day my tired mind just sighs.
I thought of you today though that's nothing unusual as I think of you constantly. I wonder how you are, what you're doing, or if you've smiled today. The littlest things remind me of you or something you've said. The crossword puzzle this morning had "Lincoln Nickname" as a clue which is obviously "Abe." Three milliseconds later my mind is on you.
I should be reading my Biology book right now, learning all about viruses, DNA technology, and the genetic basis of development, but instead I want to write something. I think talking with ACC for a good two hours last night has prompted me to post.
Emily once told me to free write (haven't seen her in a while), and I haven't done so in a while so here goes...
Something I'm throwing together as I go along.
Staring at the paper in her hand
"I can't go to prom with you"
Please forgive me, I'm going with my accepted
The words slowly sink in and tears
Form in gentle rivers
Wait--a P.S. and all is forgiven
"But I love you"
Staring at the scence in front of her
Her beloved's lips on someone else's
Blinking and hopefully it'll disappear...