May your journey find a road

I didn’t sleep last night. I can feel the weight of those lost hours bearing down on me. But I chose this, to stay up. And watching the clock, saying that old mantra, “If I go to sleep now, I’ll get 2 hours, get 90 minutes, get 20 minutes, get some caffeine and hope I don’t fall asleep while driving”. Then I read my email. I usually only check a couple of times a day. Because I receive a bunch, most of it junk. But like gold from silt rise the words of the blogs I follow. There really aren’t that many. I have a criteria where I have to like 3 pieces to follow them. That insures that they have my attention and time. And I read some posts and like and comment, in my sleep deprived brain zombie state. And I see someone’s blog has gone private. Someone who I like. And maybe this is the sleep deprivation or that I’ve been watching Legion, but I have this brief image of this guy dressed in black just thousand yard staring into the distance. And I know that’s me. And you know people have reasons, generally good reasons for going private, but I always hear Morgan Freedman’s speech from Shawshank Redemption ending with, “I guess I just miss my friend.” Sleep deprived me can be maudlin. But no less true. It’s like a light winking out in the firmament. And my universe is a little dimmer.

A thought that pulls tears

I wonder sometimes if people get into relationships with me just to be loved for a moment in time. To know that, someone, somewhere will always love them.
I envy them the certainty. The bedrock truth. That if I love, I love forever. Though time, distance and even realities keep us apart.

Midsummer night

I’ve got no idea what I’m doing most days. Just getting through, just getting on
Some days I wish I had stayed asleep. Had never loved…and lost. I knew who I was then. What I would do with my life. But I was loved and I was lost. And those doors are long closed. Memories I can’t even share. Secret lives, no matter how far in the past are a burden you never put down.

I feel like I traveled in a time machine the hard way. By living it. By sleepwalking through it. Clawing my way back to some new chance that eludes me. Maybe because I want it so much. Maybe because I hold on so tight. Maybe because I can’t let go. I feel like I’m starting over when most people seem to have at least a semblance of an idea where they are going.

They’re making future plans and I’m just trying to plan for having a future.

And yet I look at them living lives and I don’t understand them.

Passionate weirdos and artists and nerds I get. I don’t understand the earn money to earn more money to buy vacations to keep going to the job you hate to keep the marriage going that’s stable but without passion. And still, I look at what they have and I’m envious.

They’re living their chances and I get a few but never know how to get past the start.
I keep starting over and over and I’m always back to this place. Confident but alone.
Wondering what’s next.
Wondering if all the possibilities are in the past and all I have are these words I scream in the wilderness and these days that pass so slowly and so fast.

Windows open as they close

I got 2 days and 1 night of perfection. It’s more than most people get.

It was to aid a friend and I feel a bit guilty about how it made me feel. Taking care of her. Making sure she followed her tasks. Hearing that in that moment what she felt was joy. It was utter perfection.

But what was so transcendent for me, was, perhaps, too close to a reminder of what she’d lost. Two days and a night. I was the happiest most fulfilled version of myself. I made plans. Crazy plans. Plans to uproot my whole life.
But by Monday  it was over. She went back to her healing, her pain. And I was reminded of mine.

2 days and 1 night. It’s more than most people get. And its marked me forever

How awful to think it

If I could save her, of course I would, of course. It’s easy to say, discounting all the years past that point. Discounting all the changes I made to be a better person.

Of course, I’d go, I’d be there and that would make the difference.
If I could save her I would.
If I could make a different choice
I would
And accept that it means that the man I am now would be annihilated.
All of those experiences that turned me, minute by minute would be destroyed as well.

Of course, I’d save her. Of course.
Knowing how it happened, knowing it all.
Of course, I’d save her. Of course.

And accept that saving her, means dying in her stead. I’d still be breathing but the man I am now would never be. The love I’ve experienced, the people I’ve met, the family I’ve connected with, the goddess of my heart. It all gets snuffed out, turned on the wheel of a choice.

Of course I’d save her
Of course

Top 5 things I miss about being in a relationship

1. Having someone to talk to who is genuinely interested in what I think.

2. Listening to their thoughts, ideas, and opinions. I live so much in my head that hearing a different thought process is interesting and sexy.

3. Kissing. I could say sex, but I miss kissing more.

4. Reading something or hearing something and reminding myself to share that with them.

5. Waking up with them snuggled up against me and remembering that we chose each other.

Haunting Silence

There is a truth to be had in silence
In her silence, in mine
It’s easier to be silent
To let time slip by in the hope that it will solve things
One way or another
But time is a funny thing
It doesn’t yield solutions
It only brings opportunity and choices
I’ll always choose you
And so, I am not silent
And I say that I choose you
And I wait, with trepidation, for you to end silence
Fearing that you won’t
Fearing that you will

Hold me?

I still love every one I have ever loved. I now say I care instead of I love. But this is just a safeguard. A check to maintain the status qo. It is merely that the pain of those lost to me is piled on top of the mountain of pain that I live upon. And each new pain begins to spin out, to cover what came before, in a thin layer that is endurable. How can I expect to find someone who will love me if I cannot let go my pain. Am I getting better or merely becoming better at deluding myself. So many nights and days I don’t want sex, I just want to be held. But, I’ll term it as sex because that is seemingly more socially acceptable than to admit to this weakness. This need for connection.

That is a male problem. We’re not allowed to seem weak. I can get away with crying in public, with being emotional and many other things because I am seen as strong. Unassailable, but vulnerability, that is too far. And truthfully I don’t care what others think, but social mores make things difficult. This is all cold detachment. An effort to bring myself back under control as, as I write this, tears stream down my face. So overcome am I that tears are my only outlet. I want my Morgan back. I want to hold Eric one last time. I want what cannot be.

Lust fades to memories

I would give voice to other than lust but find, in these haunting seconds twixt witching moon and the long dark, find my heart empty. Or not empty, but rather ravaged by flames that course through, burning out all thought but you. You, spread inviting on my crimson bed. You, legs pressed around me, back against the wall. You, pale ass tantalizing and taunting. You, riding, your eyes black with desire. My face buried in you, your hands in my hair. Your moans, your shudders. Your pleasure bound at the end of my tongue.

But you are far away from me, We are long lost to each other and I am alone. Sitting in the pale light of approaching dawn.

My Morgan. My Morrigan.