There is a thing in movies and TV shows and in books where despite everything that the protagonist does, every action taken. Despite it all, the person they love is killed or dies. And it destroys me each time. It rips my chest open and for a minute it’s like the door is opening again and I see her, laying there, dying all over again. Every time.
No matter how much time passes, there are things that will trigger me back.
I’m torn between wishing I don’t experience that again and never wanting to get to the point where I feel nothing.
Because if I feel nothing, I will have lost that last piece of her.
But I also don’t want the person I love now to get the impression that I somehow love them them less. I love madly, deeply, completely. And I love you.
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.
Anxious turns to steady
Apologies become a kiss
Thought blooms and takes up residence
Linked across miles
A minefield of causality between us
Happy than I’ve been
uncertain, a flower faces the moon
glorious, perfection in the flaws
strive to give space
step to, be free
the breeze of the summer wind
welcomes her home
So I have a new Submissive. It’s online only at this point. She is an amazing person and new to being a sub. I’m pleased I get to be the one to play with and teach her. Ideally we would do this in person. But needs must. It’s the reason I Have been happy and as a corollary unable to write poetry. I’m working on that and need to be able to by April. Poetry month otherwise know as the Bataan death march of poetry. A poem a day, plus normal posts. It was hard as hell last year, lets see how it is this year. I may up it to 2 poems a day since I have been writing so prolifically. But my sub is amazing. I tried being vanilla for awhile. I was miserable. She is game for anything and I appreciate that. She is a beautiful creature and I’ll smack the shit out of anyone that says otherwise. My miss, you are mine. And that makes me happy.
We all deserve a little happiness, so let what makes you happy consume you once in awhile.
What makes me happy is the transitory nature of beauty and the ephemeral quality of performed art. Sounds pretentious, I know. What I mean is that beauty shifts and changes as we the perceiver change This change, allows us to change as we see ourselves through this outside lens and in seeing are changed by the experience.
As to the ephemeral quality of performed art. Well, no two performance is the same, each one is a unique experience, each a microcosm of itself and a connection to each other person that experiences this with you. These feelings of connection can allow us the space to embrace our humanity. To see, for a moment, in the shared experience, community.
Further, those that share the experience are forever linked. Even that little bit of connection weaves us into the tapestry of the world.
Take some time to do what makes you happy, and remember to share your passion, your joy. Maybe you are someone’s transitory beauty. Maybe it’s your ideas or your smile. We make this world with ourselves, out of our lives and that is beauty.