You kissed me yesterday. And I don't think you saw it, because it was dark in your kitchen, but I smiled. And when you had your hand on my neck, when you gracefully and sweetly pulled me closer, I felt like the star in a movie. It took a long time to build that wall of sarcasm and ice around my heart, and in that moment I felt droplets hitting my stomach and turning into butterflies as you melted it all away.
But I think I built my walls too high; I got too good at keeping people away, at keeping you away. Because as I walked home, I felt sad. I knew I liked you, and I knew I'd done too good of a job at keeping you at arm's distance. So you either think I'm a bitch, or too complicated, or just a nutcase, all of which are probably true in their own right. But I know I did it, and I regret it do much right now.
You're too smart for me anyway. Not book smart, though you are. You're perceptive. You remember everything, and that's intimidating. Most women would kill to have a man remember her birthday, or some random fact mentioned ONCE and never again. Not only that, but you're perceptive too. You know things about me that I never told you, and as far as I can tell, never revealed to you. It's an amazing and beautiful trait, but it's unsettling to have somebody know more about you than you thought.
But I wish I hadn't fought you so much. I wish I'd taken half a step forward, or just reached out and grabbed your hands, pulled you forward. Given more, been less stubborn, chiseled a door for you in my heart of ice, or at least a ladder. You're smart- you knew I was fighting, and you respect me, so you're not going to fight back.
I wish you would.
In a room full of windows, you saw through all my bullshit and you saw me. You looked me right in the eye, you caught my gaze, and you held it. I didn't look away. My eyes say more than my voice ever will. I hope you heard them.
Friday, May 6, 2011
I'm writing because it's easier to write a letter I'll never send than to pray. If I don't send a letter it's my own fault for not getting a response; if I pray, well, there are consequences for everything. I don't even know who You are, but I know You're out there, and You're listening. That's both intimidating and terrifying, so excuse my discontinuous thoughts and unfinished monologues. Perhaps I'll write to a different you, one that does not require capitalization. We'll see how this goes.
I'm sturdy, stubborn, hard-headed, and tenacious. I'm moody, quick to temper, and last to admit I'm wrong. I'm afraid of looking foolish. I'm more afraid of FEELING foolish. Is that vanity? Perhaps. Is it human nature? On the whole, we're built flawed. Those flaws create the beauty that separates us from one another. But what determines what within us is beauty, and what is flaw?
I feel like I'm more flaw than beauty lately, and not just on a physical scale. I'm completely imbalanced, inside and out. I feel lost, between floating and falling, an unsteady turbulence of self-doubt. There is no blame in this, you didn't do this to me, and neither did You, and neither did I. Maybe it was fate? Destiny? Chance? Maybe it was me after all. Maybe it was all of us.
I made a comment today that my stress level reduces by 20% or more when I'm near wind chimes or water. For some, 20% doesn't seem like much, but I run on 90% tension on a daily basis. I'm prone to "freaking out" and it's easier on my nerves if I stay in a constant state of high alert. Perhaps this explains why I'm stubborn, tenacious, hard-headed and all those other negative words I apply to myself.
I don't know how to fix myself or how to be better. I just know that I need to be better. Better at everything I do- my family, school, work. Everybody around me seems so put together. They know what they want, what they need, and how to get it. I have no answers for any of that. I feel like I'm floating, or struggling to float, while everybody else is splashing around on jet-skis or sunbathing on private yachts. I feel 4 steps behind everybody else, with no sense of direction on how to catch up.
I am not complaining. My life is good. I have family that cares, friends who notice that I'm alive, and I'm blessed to have all the wonderful things in my life. I'm wondering why, with all of this goodness, I feel that life is so imperfect. If everything is so wonderful, and I'm unhappy, the catalyst has to be me. So what am I doing? And how do I fix it? I like to think I'm a good person. I try to be kind, honest, and hardworking. I openly admit to backsliding- I am far from perfect: I hurt people, I can be lazy, and I make mistakes. I make a lot of mistakes. But I try to fix them, and I think I'm getting better all the time. Everybody makes mistakes, right? So why do I feel like I'm the only one?
I'm not asking you for answers. I don't even know if You're listening, or reading, or if You even care. But I know I need something to change, and I'm looking for guidance, to know I'm at least heading in the right direction, even if I'm miles off of the road.
I'm sturdy, stubborn, hard-headed, and tenacious. I'm moody, quick to temper, and last to admit I'm wrong. I'm afraid of looking foolish. I'm more afraid of FEELING foolish. Is that vanity? Perhaps. Is it human nature? On the whole, we're built flawed. Those flaws create the beauty that separates us from one another. But what determines what within us is beauty, and what is flaw?
I feel like I'm more flaw than beauty lately, and not just on a physical scale. I'm completely imbalanced, inside and out. I feel lost, between floating and falling, an unsteady turbulence of self-doubt. There is no blame in this, you didn't do this to me, and neither did You, and neither did I. Maybe it was fate? Destiny? Chance? Maybe it was me after all. Maybe it was all of us.
I made a comment today that my stress level reduces by 20% or more when I'm near wind chimes or water. For some, 20% doesn't seem like much, but I run on 90% tension on a daily basis. I'm prone to "freaking out" and it's easier on my nerves if I stay in a constant state of high alert. Perhaps this explains why I'm stubborn, tenacious, hard-headed and all those other negative words I apply to myself.
I don't know how to fix myself or how to be better. I just know that I need to be better. Better at everything I do- my family, school, work. Everybody around me seems so put together. They know what they want, what they need, and how to get it. I have no answers for any of that. I feel like I'm floating, or struggling to float, while everybody else is splashing around on jet-skis or sunbathing on private yachts. I feel 4 steps behind everybody else, with no sense of direction on how to catch up.
I am not complaining. My life is good. I have family that cares, friends who notice that I'm alive, and I'm blessed to have all the wonderful things in my life. I'm wondering why, with all of this goodness, I feel that life is so imperfect. If everything is so wonderful, and I'm unhappy, the catalyst has to be me. So what am I doing? And how do I fix it? I like to think I'm a good person. I try to be kind, honest, and hardworking. I openly admit to backsliding- I am far from perfect: I hurt people, I can be lazy, and I make mistakes. I make a lot of mistakes. But I try to fix them, and I think I'm getting better all the time. Everybody makes mistakes, right? So why do I feel like I'm the only one?
I'm not asking you for answers. I don't even know if You're listening, or reading, or if You even care. But I know I need something to change, and I'm looking for guidance, to know I'm at least heading in the right direction, even if I'm miles off of the road.
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