The space to allow love is one of the most important things in life. I have no larger point to make. Just that passion and love are the most powerful reasons to do anything. And when we allow that space for love, we are hurt. Pain is definitely a part of it. But also, moments of purity of heart, moments where we are love, if only for a few moments.
And any time I see love, a part of me feels triumphant and also despair. Which combines into a kind of melancholy ache and salt filled wound, coupled with a broken note of hope and beauty realized.
Thoughts
We only have freedom to choose when we are not in danger
When we speak from a position of strength, we forget that not everyone has the same privilege. Without a calm place to stand, without stability, there is no safe place to strike out from. It is the most fundamental human need.
Safety and security is more than a good neighborhood or a job. It is the sure thought that tomorrow and for the foreseeable future, there will be enough to eat, there will be a home that does not itself contain dangers, and despite what problems may be thrown at us, we will have a support system of people and seeable graspable opportunities which insure our continued lives and futures.
Most of us don’t have that. At best we have 2 of the 3 and hope that in some far off unknowable future we will be able to start planning for more than today. Most of us won’t make it to that future.
We are stuck on a ferris wheel which we stepped onto, all naive and full of dreams, hoping and thinking that tomorrow will be better. And that’s the best case, many were forced into darker alleys and worse choices by main circumstances.
How do we make it out? As a people, as humanity, how do we stop breaking the hearts and minds of our people just to perpetuate systems which promote the continuous devolution to barbarism.
I don’t know. And it’s hard to think of how to do so. I’m not safe. And it’s only because my broken heart and mind won’t allow me to sleep, that I’m able to get out even these words. All the while, wracked by doubt and worry and fear, thinking about the morning. When it all starts up again.
Share this:
Emotional weights sink us fast
We can never save the person we most need to. The one we missed or the one we can’t reach. Sometimes ourselves, hardest of all.
It’s a hard lesson that some of us learn again and again. And when we see it happen, that realization coming over them, we can only offer a soft smile and the silence of knowing
Share this:
Trying to process my self and my place in my breakups
In person, I’m a shit storyteller. I don’t organize my life into sequential talking points which hang together. I don’t think about what I’m going to say next or what story to tell. I wait for whomever I’m with to make that conversational gambit. I’ll try to keep up. As long as it’s not about popular TV or celebrities, I’ll have things to say. I suppose that I must be boring after a few months. Having run out of stories and the novelty of having poetry written with them as my muse wears off. I always feel like I’m working to keep them interested long after they would have walked away.
It’s probably a combination of factors. It is incredibly frustrating to only know one side of the reasons or to only be made aware of those things that let me down easy. And, most likely, I should find some way to not lose my heart so easily.
But how do you not fall in love? How do you not see the beauty of their heart, their mind and not fall?
I fear that I will never know. And because of that, I’ll always be wounded or just healed and a step away from falling anew.
Share this:
Death is no solace when the afterlife has already claimed you
There is a emptiness inside. I look into my self and there is a hollow void. Empty. Apathetic. There is nothing concrete, just dark leviathans almost surfacing but never enough to see what it is. I feel like I’ve been burning my self up trying to achieve my goals and each time I fell, I lost a bit more. Until now, there’s nothing left. I don’t know where I got the fuel and now I can’t seem to wake. I was a ghost in my life, then blazing in fire I woke and now…I am again a ghost. A ghost who knows they are a ghost, who knows they were more and now, just haunt this body.
Share this:
Why skip a post when you can bleed?
It is four hours to midnight and it is taking all of my will to write instead of sleep. It’s late. Maybe too late. But failing to post seems momentous. Like allowing the boulder to roll over me.
I’m cold and I huddle under my soft Raven blanket. Socks on, the too loud TV of the front room pushes past the paper thin door, prompting one to choose between quiet and cold. The fan goes on, the white noise drowning out the irregular and unwelcome noise of other people.
I have desires that seem chaste. To hold her in my arms, to make her safe. But hopes seem as lies and no such thing is possible. I can no more will her to see me as enough than I can will her to see herself as I do. Or perhaps, I’m just not what she wants, not enough to actually be with me anyway.
I’m huddled in the cold and noise and try to slip away, into dream. Into other lives. Where hope still lives. And the possible is not so im-.
Share this:
Anniversaries, Breakups, and Dreams
Today is Morgan’s birthday. She would have been 44. I’m sure she would still be ravishing.
But that’s not what I have to say today. I’ve been off, living my life, like she would have insisted. And, in the course of doing so, I’ve dated. My last breakup was about 3 months ago. It was an outlier relationship in that it effected me physically as well as emotionally. Specifically, it eased my anxiety and allowed me to sleep at least 8 hours straight through each night. That itself changed me. My depression faded, as it’s exacerbated by sleep deprivation. My health got better and I was not sick for a single day. Which is not to say I’m generally ill but I often feel out of sorts at least once a month.
So it showed me that many of my problems were sleep linked.
I’ve never been a sleeper. Most nights getting between 4-6 hours and crashing once or twice a week. Much of that was occupationally created. Waking up to any odd sound was a bonus in what I had been doing. And not needing as much sleep was just as useful. But my mind and body have paid the toll for that.
So, here I am, 3 months on. Traditionally when I start being better after a breakup. There is always those lingering pieces of why’s and what’s. And after 3 months you start to know, emotionally, that you will never know. So you take from it what you can. And what I can is that sleep is important to me. Which I knew mentally, but having never experienced the effects of sustained nightly ‘enough sleep’ over more than a week; I had no frame of reference.
The last 2 nights I’ve managed enough sleep. Enough that the dreams are back. Enough that I’m traveling the skein of lives. And seeing what some me’s are living in. Last night’s me was burying mobsters in his back yard. Because he was somehow smart enough to be in charge of a criminal syndicate and dumb enough to bury bodies in his back yard. He was also married to a nice and oblivious woman who adopted kittens and kept bees. Most of the dream was his buying digging supplies and lye from a orange craftsmen store. And playing with kittens.
Dreams are weird.
Share this:
Tears flow down, allowed to be
It’s fucked up. To be lost in love, to be missing someone who is no longer there. To make stupid decisions because you see some remembrance, some twinkle of reminder in someone else. I want to say it’s seeing something wonderful in someone else. Something I recognize because I’ve known it. I want it to be a good reason. But I can’t help but see the other side and think that I’m being dishonest. That I’m looking for her in others and deceiving them and myself. That I’m seeing what I need to see.
Maybe I’m just not in the mood to be charitable, to harness the better demons of my nature. Maybe that negative view is bullshit. I hope it is. I hope I’m recognizing that glimmer of beauty because I’ve known it. Because I knew Morgan. I hope Morgan knows I’m trying and not just wallowing in darkness.
But I can’t know. The 30th is Morgan’s Birthday. She would have been 44. I loved her. I love her still. I’ll love her always.
As I love and will love all those I’ve loved. Because she showed me.
Share this:
Slipping slowly….unable to wake…or find my way home
When I don’t have a romantic focus, I feel an emptiness. Like I’m going through the motions, like I’m not doing what I am. A cipher. And when days that are deep in remembrance approach and I am without focus, I fill. I fill with a vast sadness. An ocean of memories and lost hopes pours in. Until I become nothing but sadness. Until I lose my self, bit by bit, on a empty sea under a moonless sky. Until sleep and dreams lose their ability to be a refuge and I live in happy moments, deep in dream, which shatter as dust on waking. I seek almost any distraction. Trying to ward off a few minutes of thinking. Until, striped, without shield or succor, I am bare and sleep…traitorous…rapturous sleep…resets the stage and again and again, I lose her.
Share this:
We are never more complicated than when we are open to love
It is easy to say that love is a choice and not a feeling. Because we want things to be one thing or another. We want uncomplicated and simple solutions. But this leads us to believe that if we no longer feel love that we should just choose to be with the person because we are choosing love. And that is fucking dangerous.
Yes, love should be a conscious choice. Don’t allow your feelings to rule but when your feelings of love are gone, it should be a flag to examine why.
Because love is a choice but the kind of choice it is, is to see. To see all that a person is and choose to love them. In the best way, it is to allow one’s feelings to develop from seeing who they are and each day realizing why you love them.
Now. That shit is easy to say. And some days it will be all you can do not to be super fucking annoyed by everything that they do, but the feeling of love will pull you through. And on the obverse side, if all you have is the feeling of love without the reasons that you love them….observe that. Because if you feel love but there is no quality in them that makes clear why, or if what you once loved has worn away and has been replaced by fear, uncertainty, and doubt…well that’s dangerous…
Pelgris 