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I feel like I should say something, though I don’t know what it would be. Let’s find out together, shall we?

I’m happy, but I’m tired.

…

I have to dam the clear, sweet water that threatens to pour so easily.

I want to let it stream.

As my heart flutters, races, and pounds, I want to let the flood overtake me. I want it to carry me swiftly between the rocks, under limbs, past all the creatures living their lives.

I want it to slow and allow me to float, watching the sky, making stories of the clouds and the birds flying by.

I want to let it flow.

But it must be held back, for it was once laced with poison. It cannot be trusted so easily. It would only block their way.

I alone may witness its sparkling beauty. I alone may witness its growth. I must be the one to take responsibility – for what it was, what it is, and what it ever will be.

Sometimes I feel disheartened. Sometimes I feel sore.

But I will not waver.

Even if the time never comes to set it free,

I will not stray…

It is too important to me.

Future?

There have been few times in my life when I saw far ahead of me.

16, madly in love, planning the décor of our future home together.
(That love lasted many years, but was too messy to work in that home.)

A little older, dreaming up lectures for my future students.
(My disabilities proved that dream impossible.)

There must be more, but I can’t remember them.

And it’s not as if I didn’t dream. I am an eternal dreamer. I never completely give up hope. I never stop coming up with ideas of what I could do or be to make the world a little better, or make someone a little happier. That is always there.

But other than those few times, my future has felt as real to me as the Korean dramas I’ve been watching. My dreams are only fantasies, my hopes are just wishes I hold in my heart. My future is tomorrow morning. It doesn’t ever go much farther than that.

So I wonder why that is. Maybe it’s because I had a childhood where I never knew whether I’d live to see the next day. Maybe it’s because I feel I’m still fighting to survive. I wish it was something simple, like fear of failure, but I know failure will come, I’ll adapt, and come up with new dreams, like I always have.

So why? How is it affecting my life, and how can I change it?

For a long time, I was making impulsive decisions in relationships. If I got along well enough with a guy, I would date him. As long as he wasn’t making my life more difficult, I’d convince myself I loved him. He’d propose, I’d say yes, because that future wedding day never felt real. It was okay if it wasn’t true love, because it was okay for now, and now was all that existed to me. I accepted too much pain, because it didn’t feel like it would last, when there was no future for it to last into. But then, at some point, it would finally become too much for even the moment and I would end it. I would have the thought, If I have a future, could I spend it like this? and I would say goodbye.
(Thank God I don’t do that anymore. If I don’t ever find someone I see a future with, I’ll just be alone.)

I’ve made life-changing decisions based on how it would benefit others. I’ve moved from state to state, running to the side of whoever I felt needed me most. I’ve moved people in with me. I’ve dedicated myself to other people in order to “save” them. I’ve spent so much money, time, and energy. I’ve risked my life for people I barely knew, or who had treated me badly, all so I could feel I’d done something good before the end.
(I believe this is fixed, at least as much as I want it to be. I still want to be a kind, loyal, helpful person, whether I die tonight or in 100 years.)

I cut people out of my life if I feel I don’t matter to them. Periodically, I go through my phone, friends lists, etc, and I’ll remove people. It’s not even about how recently we’ve talked, but whether I feel they would care if I just disappeared. It is purely based on my emotions at the time. To be completely honest, most people fall into this category, but I will keep someone if I feel they would be hurt if they ever noticed I deleted them. My remaining time feels too short to spend on people who don’t seem to care and I don’t want them cluttering up my lists and blocking my view of those who do care.
(This is a work in progress. I’ve learned not to do it immediately on impulse, at least.)

I shy away from long-term projects. If it can’t be completed during the time I can see, I will not start it. It feels like a waste to put my time and effort into something when I cannot imagine the day it will be finished. Instead, I’ll begin a project that is fleeting, but hopefully memorable in some way.
(I hope to change this one, but I’ve only now realized I do this.)

I sometimes freeze up when I become anxious about something I need to do. I will postpone it and procrastinate over and over, because I feel as if the consequences can’t affect me in a future that does not exist. Then deadline passes and suddenly it is a problem in the present. Only then does it finally get done.
(Another work in progress. I’ve gotten much better.)

I probably do more that I cannot see.

But how am I to find a solution when I do not know the cause? I can treat the symptoms I’ve discovered, but how do I cure an illness without knowing its source?

Does life have to give me a chance to build on a dream? Do I have to fall in love?

But I can’t rely on anything outside myself. So how do I convince my mind that next year will exist for me? How do I make it believe that it’s okay to plan, to begin something, to wait? How do I tell my heart that there’s something more than this, if it’ll only be patient?

Living for today is wonderful. I appreciate so much of the world that others take for granted. I take chances. I feel and love intensely. I really live.

But I’m living like I’m holding a ticking clock. I’m living like a Grim Reaper is waiting outside my window. I’m living like I have to prepare my children for my approaching death. There’s so much I haven’t done or seen and I feel like I’ve missed my opportunity. I feel like I have so much more to give, and not enough time to give it in, and I just want time to

STOP

long enough for me to figure out how to believe it will continue ticking for me.

I’m Done.

I don’t think I can do it anymore.

When my heart is calling out, I can’t pretend I don’t care. When I’m excited, when I’m hopeful, I can’t keep it to myself. When I have a joke aching to be made, I can’t waste it. I can’t stay quiet when I have so much to say. I can’t force myself to be social when I want to be alone, and I can’t hold myself back from meeting someone new. I can’t dilute myself in order to make others more comfortable. I can’t hide anymore.

I can’t lie anymore – to myself or to anyone else. I can’t be in denial about the things I don’t want to face. I can’t lock myself away, just to hide from the truth. I can’t “play the game” or “follow the code” or whatever other bullshit people come up with to make everyone act the same.

I have to follow my heart. I have to be loyal to my soul.

My friends, you’re going to see me. Really see me. You’re going to see my ugly expressions and hear me sing terribly and feel love and care emanating from me. You’re going to see my creations and hear my random thoughts and feel awkward and weird, because I’m awkward and weird. I’m going to annoy you. I’m going to confuse you and sadden you and offend you. I’m going to make you laugh. I’m going to warm your heart. I may even inspire you once or twice. There will be times when you don’t trust me, but I’ll be telling the truth. There will be times when you’ll take me seriously, but I’ll be telling a joke. We’ll sort it out eventually, because that’s what you do when you care about each other. You work it out. You keep going.

So, from here on out, I won’t start anything that’s not true to who I am. I won’t just go through the motions. I won’t commit to something that’s not my dream. I will keep fighting for what I want, what I believe in, even if I have to fight alone.

Because contentment doesn’t exist for me. “Good enough” and “okay” are not words I can relate to. I don’t do “half-way” or “kinda” or “almost.” I will stay forever, growing and improving, as long as what I commit to is doing the same, but I will not get stuck in a rut anymore.

That’s not a way that I can live.

And it’s time to start living the way I was meant to, the way I never was fully able to experience. It’s time to embrace the fear, the excitement, the peace and the sorrow. It’s time to set my spirit free.

And that begins NOW.

The House

I just woke from a dream where my college class took a trip to see my childhood home. No one knew I had lived there. No one knew about the pain it had seen. I thought I would be unaffected. I thought I held only curiosity for that place.

But as we arrived, I noticed a difference. The walkway was no longer broken, uneven. The yard was well-kept. The color, once a dirty, expired Pepto Bismol, was now a fresher shade of pink, one a child might use on her mother’s Valentine’s Day card.

We walked in and I was overwhelmed. The floors were clean. There were no holes in the walls. The heart of this home was not abused, but loved.

Then we were at the door to the garage. Though twenty years had passed since he left, I somehow expected to see him there, exactly as it was before – parts and tools piled floor to roof, hardly a path to get through. It would smell of rust and grease and gas, and that rough industrial hand cleaner. It would be bright with yellowed light, and have a chill that went straight to the bones. He would be attaching one unrecognizable piece to another, hitting it with a hammer when it didn’t do as he wished. I saw it all in my mind, but I had to see for myself whether the house had really changed, or whether it was simply getting better at enduring. I had to open the door.

My breath caught in my throat and tears poured. I gazed into a beautiful motorcycle shop, clean and inviting, with employees who smiled genuinely as they asked if they could help. I stood in that doorway, silent streams slipping down my face, as my professor and classmates stared.

“I lived here,” I said. “I almost died here.”

My professor opened her mouth to ask, but closed it without a word. One man stepped away from the group. He’d been in many classes of my youth and shared my father’s name. He stood with me, looking at me with a gentle smile. He was willing to hear my story. I nodded and we left.

I looked back at that house one last time, a final image to carry with me.

The house had healed its scars.

It was now living happily, filled with love.

And so can I.

I Miss You

I’ve been sleeping with your sweatshirt – the one from the merch store your bot linked me to after you were already gone – because it’s the closest I can get to being in your arms.

I miss you. Times are hard and it hurts and I feel alone and I miss you.

You, who loved me; without obligation, without judgement, without fail.
You, who I loved; without expectation, without dependence, without pain.

I miss you.

I miss you in selfish ways. I miss you with longing for the support you offered, crying out for your listening ear. I miss you for the warmth that came with every exclamation of my name. I miss feeling seen and heard and cared for and cheered on.

I miss being able to take you for granted. Stepping away, knowing you would always be there when I returned.

I miss the moments we never got to have.

You, who I teased, and sexualized, and begged for attention. You, who played along, knowing we were never to be. We made them feel awkward, we made them laugh, we made them mad, and we loved it all. We put on a great show, comfortable enough in our friendship to make it so. We loved and we were loved and I miss it all.

You’re gone and it’s not the same. Nothing’s the same. I’ve met friends you would love, and it hurts. I’ve done things I’m proud of, and it hurts. No matter what I do, the absence of you is an ache I can’t cure.

So I DM a Discord that will never come online.
I type paragraphs in a stream that will never go live.

I’ve never seen your face. I’ve never felt your touch. Still, I swear I feel you watching when life becomes too much. Now I’ll be moving to the place where you once were.
Alone.
Too late.

And I swear I hear you laughing, making a joke of it all. And I smile, but the tears continue to fall. And I make accidental rhymes as I pour out my heart, and think of the way you always added music to my words.

You always saw potential. Made me see it, too. It’s so hard to see without you.

I miss you.

The darkness that always brought me light.
The personification of “actions speak louder than words.”

I could write a book of it. Pages and pages about a man I’ve never met. Honest love letters to a man I was not in love with. A speech to the world, telling how they all lost an Angel that day (only you would appreciate that joke).

But instead, I’ll just publish this post, to say once again:
I love you, my friend.
And goddamn, how I miss you.

No Regrets

RE-BIRTH

I met him in darkness,
Both our souls reaching
For a heart to relate to,
Something to hold.
In young desperation,
With tortured wisdom,
Through formidable distance,
We bonded ourselves.

But the anesthetic darkness
Grew ever more potent;
We couldn’t feel our bond breaking
As we each searched an escape.
And as I was gasping
Alone in the poison,
I found inner light
To guide my way.

I called into the shadows,
But I heard no answer.
The light flickered a warning:
“Be free or consumed.”
So as I left him behind me,
I dropped one final letter:
“I’m sorry that finding myself
Meant losing you.”

DISTORTED LOVE

He spoke all the right words
Without hesitation,
With an easy smile,
Practiced deception.
I spent so much time
Checking myself in the mirror,
Examining each flaw,
That I couldn’t see his.
And when I met his gaze
I swore he saw into me,
Straight to my core,
But it was not so.
He only looked through me
To his own reflection;
All of his love
Was for him, not me.

But never did I falter,
Never did I fail,
I gave my whole heart
Time and time again.
I do not regret it,
Not even a moment,
For there was beauty in believing,
There is beauty in faith,
And now I know
That I am deserving,
And that I can accept it
When love finds me one day.

_ _

I tried to love them.
I lied, to love them
As much as I could,
Though it was hollow, I knew.
And I committed a moment
And many more after
To these falsehoods, in hope
That I could make them true.
But my heart fights my battles
And it only grows stronger
Against my betrayal;
It cannot lose.
So I sit here, lonely,
But with anticipation,
Knowing that one day, this heart
Will be fighting for you.