Two Worlds 04/27/2011

I lie down, upon our bed—my cold body being warmed by your presence. So close I can feel the heat from your whispers, your words, they rest upon my bare skin then drift away and vanish in the night. How can you be so far away and yet be lying next to me? Not having a clue that I am crying behind your back? I’m longing for you. Not your kiss; not your touch—just you. The man I feel in love with.

Now I’m alone in the dark, quiet in the air around me. You’re upstairs, wondering why I left, or maybe not even noticing I’m gone. I’m down here with just the light from the computer screen to comfort me and a blanket over my cold self. In my hand I hold the ring. I read our names, run my fingers across the engravings. How can you not know me and yet know my every secret? Not have a clue that I am hurting so bad? I’m longing for someone. Not their guidance; not their acceptance—just someone. Someone I thought was you; the man I am in love with.

Maybe I’m just foolish. Thinking you love me enough to take care of someone as sick as I am. I can’t control my thoughts, I am afraid of my feelings. My own body is making me live through hell everyday. And I wish it were all over. I wish I were dead. It’s exhausting crying silently and yelling without worlds; and still have a smile on my face every time you come home.

And I know it’s not something you want to hear—it’s not something I can share with you. It’s a whole other world that I live in; where you can’t find your way into understanding. I’m lost in it now, and can’t find my way out. All the rooms keep on changing as my emotions and thoughts keep shifting in my mind. My side silently screams out in agony, and I’m taken over by the pain and confusion.

I know I have your kiss, your touch, guidance and acceptance. I know I have your love. But is that enough?

Can we be in love and live in two different worlds? I would never dare to bring you the cold misery of coming into mine; and I forever long to be welcomed back into the promising warmth of yours. But until then I will just have to cry behind your back—longing for you when you are lying next to me. And vanish downstairs into the darkness—longing for someone when you are mine.

My Treasure 01/14/2011

You are like no one I’ve ever met before.

So calm and collected all the time logical and reasonable. You always seem like you have your life together. You’re the very definition of perfect. You were able to put in the work, you are able to continue the battle, and again and again gaining the treasures along the growth of life.

So how did you end up with me?
I’m the opposite.

I am loud and fast-minded at times and irrationally quick with my tongue. My life is full of wrong turns and dead ends. I am the opposite of perfect. I haven’t been able to put in the work due to my all the wrong turns, I fail to see any reason to continue the battle because I’ve ran into another dead end, and the only treasure I’ve gained in my life…is you.

You alone make me glow and shine. Without you I’m just me. And being “me”…well is nothing that I’m proud of; it’s just dirt and dust made up of what once was. Being “us”…it’s all I’m holding on to anymore it gives my life the meaning it needs. I cannot loose the overwhelming feeling of who “we” are…I loose that and I go back to just being “me”. Alone, afraid…once again making a wrong turn; or possibly the final dead end.

I can’t loose you. And I am afraid one of these days you are going to wake up and find out that I am not a glowing gem but in fact, I am nothing but a fossil; dead with a past but with no future. I pray, selfishly, that you will never discover this. Because I don’t want to lose you to an emerald, diamond or ruby out there….but then again how can a speckle of dust compare to the treasure that’s out in this big world?

Selfishly, I want to keep you. My very own treasure; my very own jewel — because I have the best treasure of all. I have a body of a man keeping me safe and grounded from my thoughts, and from my fears. I have the rationality of all the logic in your mind giving me advice. I have the love that you willingly give to me everyday. I have you; the very definition of perfect.

I give you who I am — even if all I am is dust and dirt. I am stone, so remember if you drop me…I’ll break. And I don’t think I can be fixed — I can’t function being glued or taped back together. I will be missing the most vital parts of my make up. And that being — the jewel that’s in your eyes and the gold within your heart. My treasure.

Fight or Flight 06/09/2010

The adrenaline rush…
The heart pounding…
The tunnel vision…
The superhuman aptitude…

The high.

Most people refer to this as the fight or flight response. This usually brought on upon acute stressors. When you find yourself staring down a gun barrel. The two seconds when everything slows down before the world collapses right before your eyes. When you see a loved one trapped under a car. This is where you have two choices. You stay—you face whatever situation, the task at hand, head on…

…or you turn the other way and run like hell.

This manner of reaction slips its way into my mind—and my heart—when I’m faced towards Love, looking it straight into the eyes. Most of the time, I run. I don’t even look back to see what I’m running away from. To see if it’s really any kind of threat. I shelter myself from it. Hide. Until, eventually it’s too late, and I’m left being a coward wondering what would’ve happened if I would’ve stayed. If I should’ve stayed. Not many times do I find a reason to stay—and I assure myself that I did the right thing. And often I think myself of always being a runner—could I really still be a runner that believes in love?

(That doesn’t make sense. To believe in something, but to be too afraid to go after it. Too afraid to experience it. I felt love before. I know it’s out there. Somewhere in my mind and in my heart I want it again—but I run before, it even has a chance to get to that point.)

At some points I don’t want to run. I don’t want to take flight. But during those situations, I find no love in return. I find no reason to stay. I find no reason to fight.

Sentimental Moments 05/13/2010

Sentimental moments. Holding hands for the first time. Catching a glimpse of happiness and joy in another’s eye. A smile that makes me feel good about myself for once. A body lying next to mine. A kiss. A simple touch.

Every time, I fall into the belief that these moments are the moments that I need to remember for the rest of my life. Every time I think that this might be my last first kiss. The last time of being vulnerable. The last time I look into a new set of eyes.

Something always stops me.

If in every relationship comes an end and comes with pain…then what’s the point in putting my heart out on the line? What’s the point in getting close to someone, if in the end I’ll just be missing what could’ve been? What’s the point in looking for more, when in the end you have no idea what you are looking for? What’s the point in saying the words ‘I love you’, if they are nothing but lies dropping from one’s lips?

People just say what they think the other person wants to hear—no one’s honest and true to their feelings. Not even me.

People fall in and out of “love” like it’s a fad, like a pair of designer jeans. They promise lies and twist the truth; misinterpret infatuation for love. Infatuation is the work of a fairytale in the mind. Making the sentimental moments seem like bliss and the way life should be. But actual love…love, is ugly. You get to the point where they become part of you, where you get used to them being your second half. And you start to take them for granted. In times you are actually reminded of them, and how big they are in your life, you would do anything for them—no matter what the cost, no matter the pain or the blood involved. Most of the time it gets to that point and it’s too late.

I almost prefer the infatuation over love. Take the dream over reality. Take the sentimental moments, that you think mean the world at the time—rather than a life that is too comfortable until it falls apart and ruins your life. For me, now, it never gets past the infatuation…it never gets to love.

I used to wear my heart on my sleeve for the longest time. I’ve had this shirt beaten and ripped; worn down and faded from elements in life. The heart isn’t held together anymore—it’s holding on by just a few strings of thread. I want to believe in the love ever after and the whole nine yards. But past experiences and observations of the real world is doing nothing but ruining that dream and warns me of the danger that comes in believing it.

Sometimes I fall into believing again. The sentimental moments—they always get me. They patch up the sleeve on my shirt and make the heart hope again. I always end up disappointed. I can’t help but to be a dreamer though. I just need to be careful for what I dream.

Down the Rabbit Hole 04/15/2010

Down the rabbit hole—I fall faster than the force of gravity. Never hitting the ground; never seeing an end. Faster and faster, the wind keeps the hair from my face and I feel the thrill of the speed increasing as the tempo of my heartbeat starts skipping. There’s nothing to grab onto, and further down the darker it gets—the more scared I get.

How did I fall? Where does this end? Will I survive?

Memories flee from my mind and I catch glimpses of both good and bad. The winning serve. The proposal. The breakup. The suicide attempt. All encircle around my mind then leave one by one. Only problem is the bad memories stay; it’s only the good memories that leave my head. Suddenly, I’m drowning in my own pessimistic thoughts.

I’m falling and suddenly I’m wanting it to end. I no longer want this feeling of helplessness and memories of bad moments in my life. I’m ready for the crash. I’m ready to end this fall—give into gravity. I no longer care about what’s at the end. I no longer care if I will survive. I just want it all to stop.

Someone please catch me. Carry me back to the world I’m used to. Send me back to the smiles and the laughter. Take me away from all the hurt, all the pain, all the remorse. I want to fly. Not fall. No one can catch me anymore—I’m too far down. It’s too late.

Down the rabbit hole- the world I end up in may not be the world I started in.

Drowning 04/06/2010

Inside I’m drowning from emotions—anger, resentment, sadness, disappointment, failure, fear, madness, sorrow.

Depression.

Can someone save me from these waters? The tide is rising and I can’t swim. Wave after wave pushes me down under. Hands reach up, for help, for survival.

The water is cold, freezing. It soaks ever inch of my skin, numbing my limbs; the salt stinging every cut on my body. The pressure messes with my mind—irrational thoughts begin rushing in and out too fast to make out any reason, and too many to focus on just one. My lungs are filled with some of the water and at once I’m drowning gasping for air.

I realize the calmer I am the more my chance of survival increases, but the thought of being trapped overwhelms me, making me panic. I tread the water frantically pulling myself under at times. I can’t control my breathing, my thoughts, or the situation.

It’s like walls of water are all locked around me. No escape, no shelter, no dry land. I am going to drown in the water, inside—drown in my panic full of thoughts—drown from my emotions.

The Destination, The Goal 03/05/2010

The destination, the goal—it’s in eye sight.  Not close enough to be tangible to know how it feels; but evident to the eyes to know what it looks like and that it truly exists.  Heat waves flow away from it warming the skin of my face, filling my mind with the sense of peace and well-being.  A soft light emerges to calm all signs fear and erase any doubt.

A smile grows upon my face.  I crave the feeling of reaching the goal; I feel the need for accomplishment.

I want to be submerged into it, to have it wrapped around me like a blanket.  I want to feel the softness of the light as it hits my eyes that are only used to the darkness. I want to feel the tepid particles of satisfaction hit the skin of my body that’s only used to cuts and bruises.

My eyes close.  I take a deep breath.  Cold air enters filling every crevasse of my nostrils; it chills the inside of my chest and mixes with the temperature of my body.  Warm air leaves my mouth, my breath dancing in the stillness of the dark.  The muscle in my leg tenses as I start to take a step.

My feet do not walk.

My feet do not run.

My feet do not move.

Shock fills my mind as I look down to inspect my legs, my feet.  Everything looks normal—everything feels normal; except for the fact that my body does not do what my brain orders it to do.  I look back up at the destination, the goal—it appears further away now.  The warmth is still inviting but not as intense across the skin of my face.

So close.  Yet, I feel glued to my spot in the dark. Trying to move I fall face first onto the frozen ground; ice scratches my arms, scuffs my hands, and cuts my face.  No longer do I feel the warmth from the light.  I try to cry, but my tears frost over upon my face.  My lips chap, and my skin tightens all over my body, recoiling from the coldness.

My brain is yelling at my body to get up and run towards it at full speed—to get a hold of the destination, the goal and never give it up; like a child holding on to their mother as if they will die if left alone.  I cry after it; throwing a tantrum; terrified of the dark.

Don’t leave me here, alone.

Don’t leave me.  If I lose sight of the destination, the goal I may never find my way again.  I will live with failure—I will die.  I will die if I do not get to touch and experience the destination, the goal.

Happy Birthday, Justin 02/05/2010

Happy Birthday, Justin.

Two years ago I truly believed I would be there next to you when you woke up today.  Two years ago I believed in love.  I believed I would be making you another cinnamon swirl cake; maybe this time not decorating it with Spiderman candy.  I believed that I would see you, another year older.  Two years ago I believed.

I don’t remember your face when I walked away; I remember it hurt too much to look at your eyes after.  It hurt to think about you, to see you, to know that you were hurting as well.

I cannot take back the past.  I cannot make things right.  All I can do is think about what things were like back then, and dream of what they could’ve been like today.  Another year older, but not with me.

Things from the past haunt me every day.  They sneak back no matter how hard I try to distract myself.  I could be listening to my iPod and the simple lyrics take me back, This is the first day of my life. I didn’t care for the song then, I’ll admit, but when it comes on I never change it—I listen to the whole track and I can relate.  I don’t remember much before you, I think in a way I was born when I met you.   But I realized that I need you//And I wondered if I could come home.

I’ve tried running away from all the feelings, memories, and regret.  I’ve done things I would never had pictured myself thinking of back then.  I’ve been an honorary student.  I’ve been to the verge of death.  I’ve cried for weeks straight.  I’ve faked a smile and laughed.  I’ve talked to God.  I’ve cursed at God.  I’ve smoked; I’ve cut; I’ve drank until I forgotten who I was—Never did I forget you.  I’ve been with guys, who I never knew their favorite color…Never could I forget you; no matter how hard I tried.

Somehow, I always get sucked back into remembering…

…holding hands for the first time—at the basketball game; pep band.  You were scared.  I wasn’t quite sure.  We’d go to Best Buy in between games.  David and Kyle would get high on excess oxygen from sticking their heads outside the window as you drove.  I remember laughing, and looking at you next to me.

…you asking me out.  You drove me home after school.  You asked me out and I said yes.  Getting out of the car you stopped me and asked, “Does this mean I have a girlfriend?”

…our first kiss.  We were going to meet some friends at McDonalds.  We had stopped at your house.  You showed me your bedroom.  It was spring, but it felt like summer.  The window blinds were down, and the room was dim.  I can remember the smell of your house.  We kissed.  Emotions that I can’t put into words filled my body right from my stomach and up to my head.  Headed out to the stairs to leave, and I passed out.  You believed that our first kiss was so bad you made me pass out—I always believed you swept me off my feet.

…I remember the first time I knew I was in love with you.  The first time I knew you were the one. We were downstairs in the dark, no TV, no radio, no computer—just us talking.  I was sitting in your lap facing you and right then you asked me if I thought you were the one.  It was like second nature—because looking at you I knew my answer.

…I remember the times at the park, down by Lannie’s, when we didn’t even have to get out of the car to have fun. The time your dog stole my underwear and your sister found it.  I remember the way you smelled of incense after you had left Alter Ego, and it always amazed you how I could tell you had been there.  Every night, or most times mornings, when you went to leave, you’d lay with me until you thought I was asleep—only to have me come out as you were leaving and flash the yard light on and off as you flashed your car back at me until you turned the corner.  I hated saying goodbye to you.  I hated seeing you go.

…Our future: The plans to get a house, and have Kyle live upstairs in the attic.  The cat named Evergreen, the husky named Juno.  We had names picked out for our children already—Leelah Mae.  I felt like I was never going to grow up and experience any of it, because I was going to stay young with you forever—until the day you proposed.  Out in the drive way; I was standing on the porch step.  We had been fighting, I had been crying.  But you had been thinking, and that night you made me smile and believe my future was with you.  Only you.

I won’t be falling asleep next to you tonight.  I won’t be baking a cake for you.  I won’t get to see you age another year.  I won’t be there.  We both have our own separate futures now.  You’re making new memories, new future plans.  She’ll be there for everything I can never have.  She’ll have what I walked away from.  She will give you what you deserve on your birthday, and every other day of the rest of your life.  The only things I can still give you today, and every other day, are the memories and my love.  The memories might fade in time—but my love for you never will.

Happy Birthday, Justin.

Some Call it Peaceful–I Call it Lonely 12/11/2009

The cold—it slices through the thickness of any heat—until there is none left.  I’m left to stare at the vapors from my lungs fall from my lips.  My heart beat becomes slower, my breath softer.  Silence accompanies the freeze.  And at once, from the heavens, the snow falls all around.  Some call it peaceful—I call it lonely.

The body is bare, and the flakes melt upon it as they touch down; signaling chills through my entire body.   At first it’s fine, it’s rather refreshing, but after a while the feel of the frost is too overbearing and all I long for is some form of warmth—shelter—comfort.

At times I will embrace the ability to play and be free in the winter wonderland.  Make angels on a new glistening white blanket.  Skate along the polished glass formed.  But after a while I look around, there’s no one else here.   Some call it peaceful—I call it lonely.

All I ever long for is a set of arms to hold me and shield me from the winter storm; or at least a hand to hold to give me reassurance in knowing I’m not alone.  I long for the comfort of fire—passion—and love.  I don’t want to feel the chap from the frost on my lips, but the warmth of another’s sweet kiss.  I want to feel, not the smart of the icy air against my skin, but the heated mold of another’s body pressed close.

Another’s love has more heat than any blanket can give, warmer than what any fire can produce.  And with it I can sit and allow the snow to fall around me—only for it to puddle into water around me.  The snow will fall regardless—and some call it peaceful—I can see how the flakes gliding in the air can give one a sense of tranquility.

But when I really look around to find no one here; and the snow is falling in my lap and is now frosting over my skin—I don’t call it peaceful—I call it lonely.

Candle in the Desert 11/23/2009

My life is full of darkness.

In a dry land, I am lost.  No lights, no walls.  Just sand—flowing in every direction—and at the horizon is the night sky, offering no comfort.  Morning will never come.  I almost feel more content in it.  It’s a scary surrounding but at the same time, it’s what I’m used to surviving and living in.  I believe even with you in my life I will still be surrounded by darkness.  I don’t believe one person can change that.  Not even you.

But when you are in the middle of the desert and there are no stars in the sky—one candle flickering can light up enough for one to find their way. I don’t need the sun to be up for me to continue going.  I only need one candle.  Not one person can turn on the light in my life, but one person can assist in making the journey easier by allowing a lighted guidance.

A flickering candle can be blown out by so many factors: lack of oxygen, a blow of the warm dry wind…so many odds going against one little light.  Once the flame is out it’s gone for good.  No more matches, no lighter.  The candle windless down with every second it burns.  The wax drips upon the skin, burning, blistering, but providing a comforting sting.  Even when the candle burns out—will I still go on?  I may never find the end of the desert.  I may be lost forever.  I may die from starvation or malnutrition.

Yet, if I stop, I will die.  Alone.  No one will even know my presence in this world.  No one would be affected by my actions; no one would mourn my loss.  There’s always that choice: stop or keep going.  What would you choose?  Would you continue your search—for the light?