she wrote

“Write me something thought provoking and sincere.  I miss that about our friendship.”

and this is what i wrote

i’m not really sure what it is that you are asking of me. it maintains the mystery of which i am unable to solve…the one of people, of pretending any longer that i understand, whenever i am unable to understand myself. there are days when it seems the world is all exclusive, days when the nights don’t plague my sleep, and days that i push forward only to wonder what the real meaning is to it all. i, by no means, am a fighter…but then i don’t believe for one minute that i am the one who gives up without a little extra attention. i’m not sure what i did with you, how our 2 worlds came together as 1, or even if it made a world of difference to either one of us. the simple truth is i am not that writer i used to be, i let go of it because i realized how it took everything hurtful and alarming from the deepest hole inside and brought it to the surface. i’m just now learning again how damaging it is to do these things, for i took away the one thing i held so dear, the one thing that clung to my humanity and gave me peace of, well some kind of peace. i never for one moment in my life believed myself to be normal, nor did i want to fall into that boundary of surviving only as “normal.” because normal is a word with no meaning in a world full of colorful words. i loved to write. loved…but then somehow it became somber and devastating, full of vices and woes, and losses. and i began to believe that this is how it should be.

it should be the knife tearing flesh, ripping to the core and exposing the nerve endings which pulsate and throb with unknowing wonder, it should be the teardrop falling away from the cheek seeking some understanding and meaning within a breaking heart, it should be the arms encompassing the heart still broken and aching. it should be so many things which exist without ending or beginning, those things which create our world, and destroy all with the same motion. these are the things which give meaning to our lives, we’re only focused so intently on the big picture that the trivial details are lost. i exist within this world as do you.

something sincere and thought provoking…

I watched thee when the foe was at our side
Ready to strike at him, or thee and me 
Were safety hopeless rather than divide 
Aught with one loved, save love and liberty.

I watched thee in the breakers when the rock 
Received our prow and all was storm and fear 
And bade thee cling to me through every shock 
This arm would be thy bark or breast thy bier.

I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes
Yielding my couch, and stretched me on the ground
When overworn with watching, ne’er to rise 
From thence, if thou an early grave hadst found.

The Earthquake came and rocked the quivering wall
And men and Nature reeled as if with wine
Whom did I seek around the tottering Hall
For thee, whose safety first provide for thine. 

And when convulsive throes denied my breath 
The faintest utterance to my fading thought 
To thee, to thee, even in the grasp of death 
My spirit turned. Ah! oftener than it ought. 

Thus much and more, and yet thou lov’st me not,
And never wilt, Love dwells not in our will
Nor can I blame thee, though it be my lot 
To strongly, wrongly, vainly, love thee still.

I Watched Thee – Lord Byron

thought provoking, sincere, beautiful, ground shattering, a moment endearing, unforgotten, a page in the history of time. i loved it whenever i read it. i wonder how many of my words you still remember, how many still wrap their essence around your being, how many still strike chords and cause pain…as i am sorry for all the childish, jealous things i ever forced unto you, but i was just that, a child desperately in love with you. i read your book on occasion, a page or two here, a couple more there, i’ve read it more than once with all my erratic wanderings throughout its pages. and still i start all over, a page here, one there, maybe another…until i put it down and stare at the cover. we all search those lands. peddle across old footsteps etched in time. we weary on this journey sometimes losing direction, sometimes losing ourselves, i wanted to be your savior which i know was an impossible request, i wanted to show you that the beauty still existed, that the horizon still burned with unknown adventure, that everything wasn’t as horrible as those things you had been subjected to. but i was a naive child, who could not even keep myself steadfast and diligent upon my quest. you were a beautiful person, enthralling and enchanting, but i saw an enchantment that reached further beyond an appearance or social standing than most have ever even fathomed. 

i was terrified. not of you but of myself, because this i had never seen, never heard of, and it seemed impossible and unreal, a figment of a diluted, overactive mind. why i couldn’t just tell you everything i felt but i had never had to do this, never had anyone who even wanted me to explain. inside i played with my thoughts, swinging high upon chains reaching for the sky, believing i could fly, believing i could escape.

i don’t know what you ask of me. i do not. sincere is the heartbeat still holding on to a dream that slips into my sheets and lulls away the angst inside myself. the dream with intoxicating scent lingering within my nostrils, holding on to the arms of a whisper. a dream embracing the love contained within each breath, wishing only to hold onto the air filling the lungs and never let the dream expire. sincere is the face upon the pillow, innocent, magnificent, all consuming, but that you could never see because it was your face asleep upon the pillow. and in my restless nights, i played scenarios within my mind. someday it would work, someday we would not have to pretend, someday the enchantment would encompass both our worlds and freedom was there at hand. someday our star would light the sky.

i don’t know who i am. who i want to be, there are fleeting glimpses when i believe i have found my calling, but there are few things that i fall back to. i wanted to write, i thought i had it in me. i wanted to draw but it became a chore. i wanted to love, but everyone’s definition of the word varies.

i miss you. i always have, and i’m not sure if this is your sincere request or in the least thought provoking, but i do not know what to say. i wish things could be different. i wish things could make sense. i wish things could be peered upon as more than just things.

if this isn’t what you wanted then tell me and i shall try again</P