A heart leads

I have never been a man who could not follow his heart. When I was younger that meant looking for the cracks in the world. It meant exploiting my talents and the talents of others for fun and profit. When I met Morgan, that started to change. I began to mold myself into a man she would be proud of. When she was ripped from me, my heart led me into darkness. Into silence. Because in the hushed darkness it was easier to heal. And, while externally, I became more harsh, more abrasive, more cutting; internally I became introspective. As I poured over and over the events of that night searching for any way, any possibility that this was a dream, a nightmare. And despite myself, I healed. And I met a man who led my heart out of that darkness. Who showed me it was OK to love again. OK to still be alive. He eventually left but I was awake and could not close myself again.
So I followed my heart. Again and again each time I was hurt. Each time I learned what humanity was. In my long absence, I had grown cold and distant. Until a year ago, when I finally forgave myself for not saving her. I forgave myself. But I must acknowledge that I failed My Morgan. And I will never fail a love again, if I can help it. If I know what is happening.
And I opened myself up, and I, in my naivety perhaps, thought I had found. But no, again and again, my heart leads me to people who are hurt and I try to help them. Because that is who I am now. Not the only thing, but it is one of the pillars. But I pay a price each time. I can love and love forever. And each person I love leaves or will only give so much before they pull back to safety. And so I am stripped bare. Cast adrift, seeing the bright lights of the people I love, twinkling from the shoreline. While I drift at sea, forever unable, seemingly, to make landfall.


Someone I care for has said that I push boundaries. Like it is something that I actively do. My perception is that I know who I am and what I want. I may not know day to day what I’m doing and I get lost all the time but ultimately I have a rock solid idea of where I began and how I got to here. 

 My ideas are evolving. I am evolving and learning. I change as time passes. We all do. I’m just paying close attention and shaping myself as I go. Is that pushing boundaries? 

I think of boundaries as the lines we draw ourselves with. Mine are spokes radiating outward. Ebbing and flowing to encompass new ideas or discarding old ones. Is that pushing boundaries? Or is that, at least for my self, a disregard for the existence of boundaries.

 It’s not like I don’t fear things. And I hate changes I have no influence on. But my self? I think I am not willing to be defined by boundaries. Lines that I won’t cross. There are a few. I have defined those. But they are more broad outlines with escape clauses should it prove necessary. 

 Perhaps I don’t define myself by the boundaries I won’t cross but by the things I will do. Maybe that is the more accurate statement . 

Growing up

Be like a plant not an animal. Don’t move on, outgrow the place that was painful. This takes time but allows for the retaining of the past as a foundation for the future. You can never leave something behind that haunts you. It begins to manifest in ways you cannot anticipate. So while running can be a good thing, to keep yourself from further trauma,do not assume that by doing so you somehow have left the self behind. You’ll still need to deal with the effects, don’t keep running. You can never run so fast that what was cannot catch up.

Not happy

So, I’m not sad. That’s great right? But I’m not happy either. Sure there are moments of wonder and joy. Whole hours, sometimes. Hours where I couldn’t conceive of a better world. However, I’m not happy. I’ve known happiness. I’m just not now. So why am I not happy? I suppose it’s because I am alone. And I hate being alone. There are those that swear by being single, that it’s so great, blah blah. Not me. I hate it. I like having someone in my life. I like having to compromise on where we go to dinner or who feeds the cat. I like discussions where we are frustrated and can’t seem to get our point across. I’m a relationship guy. But I also have certain things I’m looking for in a partner. Intelligent, creative, open minded and likes me as much as I like them. It’s a short list. But a difficult one, apparently. These people are all already taken. Or something. But that’s why I’m not happy.

And before anyone jumps on with, you have to be happy with yourself first or some other trite piece of advice, what makes you think I’m not happy with myself? I won’t lie and say I’m perfect but I change, I grow and that’s all we can realistically do. The only finality in this life is in its ending.

Poem or rant?

Love that is comfortable is a love that is too easy
It is merely comfort
Love that is real always feels a bit uneasy
It should be growing
And growth, change are always uncomfortable
Like new skin
Without that feeling
Love sits on its laurels
It stagnates
And stagnation leads to the death of love
Let love ride uneasy
Let it be uncomfortable
Let it prompt change
Let it prompt growth
Or else
Prepare yourself for its loss