Yesterday's rainstorm brought back memories of so many summer nights. Summer nights which I shared alone, and it was beautiful. I cannot recall a single care.
You can feel the storms coming in the air, the trees would shake ever so slightly, as if excited. The wind caresses your skin as if some kind of short embrace, sending goose-bumps up your body. Even indoors with the windows open you can feel this. So you press your face to the window as a five year old would do, waiting for their father to pull into the driveway after work.
The sky is overwhelmingly dark, but the rain has not arrived yet. You sit on the front steps, waiting in silence. And soon, it comes. The grass breathes new life as the first drop hits the ground. The aroma is delightful, and you sit for a few minutes before getting the urge to experience this phenomena for yourself. You run out into the middle of the field, tilt your head up to the sky, and feel. You feel every emotion you've ever experienced in this moment, and you finally begin to feel your own existence.
I have never been so conscious of my life as I am in these moments. To exist in a natural event, where nothing is tainted by man- it's entirely freeing. I am happy, truly and erratically happy. My heart can feel everything it wants to feel, without the worry of being broken.
When I am with him, I feel just as I felt on all of these nights. Not only do I press my face against the window, waiting for those bright jeep lights to shine on the house, but I experience freedom when I am with him. I am light and childlike, and my body warms when he enters the room. My heart flocks to him, and for once, I feel entirely safe entrusting someone with its care. I am no longer afraid of being alone, of feeling unwanted. He satisfies my every whim, and loves me with sincere intensity.
This summer, I will again experience these divine storms that have become so close to my heart. But I will no longer be alone in these moments. Silver-lining.
4.14.2010
4.12.2010
Asleep
"Have sweet dreams..."
"Of us, ofcourse."
I smile every night before closing my eyes and drifting to sleep. Such a small detail can make our love even more precious.
"Of us, ofcourse."
I smile every night before closing my eyes and drifting to sleep. Such a small detail can make our love even more precious.
Well I Wonder
"Those who speak of love most promiscuously are the ones who've never felt it. They make some sort of feeble stew out of sympathy, compassion, contempt and general indifference, and they call it love. Once you've felt what it means to love as you and I know it-the total passion for the total height-you're incapable of anything less."
My life plays out like a perfect movie-script ending. Simply endearing, he captivates me with every word drawing out of his mouth. Over the phone I can hear his lips tighten, and I realize what I am saying has struck a nerve. Guilt consumes me, engulfs me in its rage of fury. But his voice is calm, and soon I am soothed. After exchanging words of adoration our talk ends, and again I am alone in a dark room with my thoughts. But I am no longer crying, and instead I take a moment to breathe before drifting off into a deep sleep.
I wake during the night, only for a short instance. Long enough for him to cross my mind. Before he leaves, I make sure to take note on every feature of his face. I don't ever want to forget it. His eyes shine, with peaks of harvest orange dancing throughout. Never have I seen eyes so strong. For a time, my eyes shone a sleek electric blue, but time has altered them into a gray, dusky steel.
I don't want him to leave, I never want him to leave. But he needs to go, so I breathe deep and smile. Hiding my unhappiness isn't that easy. My facial expression is probably screaming, "don't leave, i can't do this without you" but he says nothing. It's okay this way. We don't need two people in shambles.
But I wonder what he thinks about, driving away- if his heart drops just a little, as mine does.
Today, I focus on my studies. Occasionally his presence enters my thoughts, overriding construction details and elevations. I remember his soft voice, his tender kisses, and our bodies fixed together. I wish, that one day I will be with him indefinitely.
My life plays out like a perfect movie-script ending. Simply endearing, he captivates me with every word drawing out of his mouth. Over the phone I can hear his lips tighten, and I realize what I am saying has struck a nerve. Guilt consumes me, engulfs me in its rage of fury. But his voice is calm, and soon I am soothed. After exchanging words of adoration our talk ends, and again I am alone in a dark room with my thoughts. But I am no longer crying, and instead I take a moment to breathe before drifting off into a deep sleep.
I wake during the night, only for a short instance. Long enough for him to cross my mind. Before he leaves, I make sure to take note on every feature of his face. I don't ever want to forget it. His eyes shine, with peaks of harvest orange dancing throughout. Never have I seen eyes so strong. For a time, my eyes shone a sleek electric blue, but time has altered them into a gray, dusky steel.
I don't want him to leave, I never want him to leave. But he needs to go, so I breathe deep and smile. Hiding my unhappiness isn't that easy. My facial expression is probably screaming, "don't leave, i can't do this without you" but he says nothing. It's okay this way. We don't need two people in shambles.
But I wonder what he thinks about, driving away- if his heart drops just a little, as mine does.
Today, I focus on my studies. Occasionally his presence enters my thoughts, overriding construction details and elevations. I remember his soft voice, his tender kisses, and our bodies fixed together. I wish, that one day I will be with him indefinitely.
4.10.2010
The Edges Are Not So Parallel
I've spent most of the day in my head, trying to rationalize my thought process, or understand if I even have a process.
One thing I've concluded is that I am very vulnerable, entirely vulnerable to anyone I let into my life. To anyone who knows my true artistic ability for destruction. They see my flaws, and weaknesses- know my dynamic and not the front I put on for most acquaintances.
And my vulnerability really only stems from one source, my naivety of life, love, and consequence. Okay, so I'm not naive in the sense that I believe every As Seen On TV commercial and think their products are 100% guaranteed. But I definitely grew up with an irrational idea of love. Maybe it was because I could never get my head out of a book to make time to understand the world on my own.
And my naiveness caused my early loss of innocence. Children are beautiful; they understand so little of the world and comprehend only what they want to understand. But they can be easily persuaded.
I ventured to believe that the answer to finding 'love' was to give yourself to them, and I didn't mean the mind and soul part. Only the body. Atleast, I thought sex was the ultimate sacrifice for love.
I waited until my first boyfriend was ready, and I pray often in my head that it happened the way it did, that I didn't prance around like a whore before I was 16. But still, 16?! My brother and sister will be 17 next week, and to even think about them doing the horrible things that I did is like a serious blow to the face.
But after that everything went downhill, and I gave my body to anyone that asked because I thought it meant they loved me. What the hell was I thinking. Obviously after you figure out you can't even hold a substantial conversation with them you should realize it isn't love. It's sex, plain and simple. It's vile and cheap, and means nothing.
Once reality hit me, I hated myself for what I was doing.
Now I am in a relationship where sex doesn't mean love. Wait, until that person means something to you, and then giving your body to that person will be something worth your while. And I don't mean wait until marriage- I'm definitely not a crazed christian conservative. But sex should be more clearly termed "love-making" in a relationship, no matter how silly it sounds. Yes, it can be passionate at times, but those times he leaves you with an overwhelmingly wonderful feeling in your heart- that's when you know it's real; when you know what you're doing is right.
I still hold alot of guilt for acting out the way I did. For treating myself in such a horrible way, and letting people take advantage of me for temporary happiness. I came into my new relationship with everything on the table. And he accepted it...all of it. It is a breath of fresh air- he is amazing.
One thing I've concluded is that I am very vulnerable, entirely vulnerable to anyone I let into my life. To anyone who knows my true artistic ability for destruction. They see my flaws, and weaknesses- know my dynamic and not the front I put on for most acquaintances.
And my vulnerability really only stems from one source, my naivety of life, love, and consequence. Okay, so I'm not naive in the sense that I believe every As Seen On TV commercial and think their products are 100% guaranteed. But I definitely grew up with an irrational idea of love. Maybe it was because I could never get my head out of a book to make time to understand the world on my own.
And my naiveness caused my early loss of innocence. Children are beautiful; they understand so little of the world and comprehend only what they want to understand. But they can be easily persuaded.
I ventured to believe that the answer to finding 'love' was to give yourself to them, and I didn't mean the mind and soul part. Only the body. Atleast, I thought sex was the ultimate sacrifice for love.
I waited until my first boyfriend was ready, and I pray often in my head that it happened the way it did, that I didn't prance around like a whore before I was 16. But still, 16?! My brother and sister will be 17 next week, and to even think about them doing the horrible things that I did is like a serious blow to the face.
But after that everything went downhill, and I gave my body to anyone that asked because I thought it meant they loved me. What the hell was I thinking. Obviously after you figure out you can't even hold a substantial conversation with them you should realize it isn't love. It's sex, plain and simple. It's vile and cheap, and means nothing.
Once reality hit me, I hated myself for what I was doing.
Now I am in a relationship where sex doesn't mean love. Wait, until that person means something to you, and then giving your body to that person will be something worth your while. And I don't mean wait until marriage- I'm definitely not a crazed christian conservative. But sex should be more clearly termed "love-making" in a relationship, no matter how silly it sounds. Yes, it can be passionate at times, but those times he leaves you with an overwhelmingly wonderful feeling in your heart- that's when you know it's real; when you know what you're doing is right.
I still hold alot of guilt for acting out the way I did. For treating myself in such a horrible way, and letting people take advantage of me for temporary happiness. I came into my new relationship with everything on the table. And he accepted it...all of it. It is a breath of fresh air- he is amazing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)