I’m sacred that I’ll convince myself once more that I am wholeheartedly over you. I’m afraid I’ll fall into that abyss of denial and will never find my way back to you. I’m quick to guard my heart, which means if you tell me I’m single, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll share the most meaningless exchanges and inject as much meaning as I can for the other person. I’ll gain their affections, hoping their piqued interest will someway invigorate my attraction to them. Currently I’m playing this little game, I already have my first play in motion, and I’m afraid it is working all too easily. You see I’ve never really had trouble in this game, I just chose to never play it, cause it didn’t suit my style. Instead I played the waiting game. I’d observe the players that walked by, and if any looked particularly unique, then I’d prepare to play. They’d take note, and the games would begin. The only reason I ever participated is because when I waited, I had the opportunity to play an entirely different game altogether. I found that when you play with the best, you always have the most fun. I miss playing with the professionals, the rookies aren’t just cutting it. They don’t know how to make my heart skip a beat, or give me those nervous butterflies. Though maybe it is due to the fact that my heart’s just not in the game anymore. My body is, but even it wants to retract and discontinue what I’ve started. I have many options, but you’re the only one I love.
Today has been an interesting day for me. There haven’t been many ground breaking interactions or events, it is just that a lot has raced through my mind today. Today I feel antsy and energized, one may even call it restless. It isn’t a different feeling for me necessarily, but it is heightened because I made the poor choice of drinking half of an energy drink this evening. One could say I am quite hyped…. I am actually kind of sad too. I am in an odd reflective, energetic mood, so a lot of random thoughts will be voiced throughout this post.
The first thing I would like to start off with is that today I was thinking about my funeral. No, I am not dead yet, nor am I planning it in anticipation, nor am I writing this from the dead. A vision popped into my mind though about how I would like my funeral to be. I want my favorite musician’s (The Weeknd) music to be played throughout the funeral. EVERY SONG HE HAS EVER SUNG. So however long that takes, would be the duration of my funeral. It is not because I want to torment my family and friends with music that I already play constantly, it is simply based on the fact that there is something about his music that feeds my soul. My body reacts to it in such a different way than it does towards other music. It isn’t necessarily the lyrics, but sometimes it is. However, the song I would have played at the end of my funeral would be about just that: the lyrics. It is titled “Angel,” and is by far one of his saddest songs (in my opinion). In this song, he sings the verse “I hope you find somebody to love” many times, and every other utterance eats away at my heart. It is because he doesn’t say that to mean exactly that, he sings it in a mournful way towards what he and the girl he is singing about once shared. This song would be played at the end with the sole purpose of speaking to the guy I love one last time. I want the overall event to be joyous and cathartic, but I definitely feel that every funeral has a sad note to it, and depressingly enough, I would like for mine to end on a sad, reflective note.
Throughout my funeral, while the songs play, I want people to dance, talk, and interact without a care in the world, not worrying about how others are perceiving them for their poor dancing skills. I want my guests to be weird, eccentric, and most importantly, fully immersed in all senses. If someone cries, I want them to not feel any need to hold it in, or be quiet, I don’t want them or anyone else to feel awkward about it. I want it to be a mess of emotions, a fully raw experience, whether they be sad about my death or not. I want it to be an opportunity for them to look at life differently. It wouldn’t necessarily matter that I’m gone, I don’t even care if they shed one tear for me, but I do have one condition. I want people to begin living life differently. No, not change themselves. Live and love like you’re taking your last breath. Dance like everybody is watching and don’t give a rip. Lastly, stop feeling self conscious with new people or any people for that matter. We all are human, we get quiet, stumble on our words, and make fools out of ourselves. So stop letting silly things like self-consciousness get in the way of you living your life. One more thing, stop thinking so hard about being “normal.” Be you and do you, that’s all I ask.
To end this, I would like to bring up one last thing. I am frustrated at the world around me, which is partly why I wrote this post. Right now I feel the urge to contact each and every person I feel like contacting and say exactly what is on my mind (not necessarily the same thing to every person, cause I have different topics flowing through my mind currently) without having to think about what was last said and feel as though I need to “stay on topic” whatever that means… (it means humans are notoriously boring in conversation due to this obsession). I want to know that other people share the sentiment that life is precious and we should start living like every moment is our last. Everything around me is so stagnant, and people are so hesitant, all in efforts to not step on anyone’s toes. Yet there comes a time when you just need to LIVE YOUR FREAKING LIFE. That is all. Goodnight.
You stare contemptuously, letting the hate eat away at what remains of your character. All that lies before you is filthy, ridiculous, and unloveable. Unfortunately, that is an incorrect conclusion. What lies before you is the perfect example of care, humanity, and kindness. All that has been exemplified by that form in front of you is nothing but pure humanity, and you view it with the utmost disgust.
That’s where we falter. We see all the flaws immediately, sometimes never acknowledging those qualities that embody true perfection, true admirability. It perpetuates a vicious cycle of hate and creates an absence of appreciation. It is one thing to let these negative thoughts and comments silently ruminate in one’s mind, it’s another to continuously voice them aloud to taint the current rapport.
The most unexpected things occur when one spreads love rather than hate. One receives love back, the world becomes a better place to live in. It’s miraculous to see the results and watch happiness and love spark from every action, setting the world ablaze to create a bonfire of positivity. Soon all the flaws are unique features we’ve never seen. Those actions of ridiculousness, imperfection, lack of attention that causes us to stumble, are the pieces of humanity that spill out of us to signify to others that no one is perfect. While simultaneously discovering that it is this same quality of imperfection that leads one to claim that the one they love is perfect.
“Ma’am I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The woman follows the orders of the officer and leaves the property. Behind her she hears whispers, “she is just senile. She walked straight onto this property like it was actually her bird!” the cop laughs, at her expense. “Well she should just go back to the nursing home where she came from, I’m sure they’d bring birds in for the amusement of the elderly from time to time if she put in a request.”
I knew it was you, you haven’t changed since I saw you last. I knew you had plans to fly away for a while, but I hadn’t expected to find you in the possession of someone else the next time I saw you. Remember when you flew to the courtyard of the home I’ve been staying in? For a moment I had a glimmer of hope inside of me that you had come back. That you’d be mine again. Unfortunately I was just a fool to think such a preposterous thing. Everyone in the home laughs at me, they mock me for escaping today to go searching for you. When I noticed you were in the backyard of one house, my heart became full again at the sight of your perfectly colored feathers. When I broke in the gate and you began talking to me like old times, my mind reverted back to simpler days when people didn’t think I was crazy or unstable for loving you. You were mine.
“Everyone, we have an announcement! Thanks to a very special request, we have brought in some birds for your amusement.” An old man named Landit instantly shook his head and wheeled out of the main hail back to his room. Yeminda came in at her usual slow pace, and approached the birds with enthusiasm. A close friend of the old woman who was responsible for this whole scene commented “you should have just ignored the dreams about that damn bird being around somewhere close by. And you broke in! What in the hell made you think that was a good idea?! All for a damn bird…” he looked at the birds and a look of distaste spread over his face. He promptly turned around and relied on his cane to aide him on his walk to the activity room.
They truly think I’m crazy. Hell, maybe I am crazy. I know your wings have been clipped and you’re unable to fly back to me at your own free will, but to everyone around me, I appear pathetic and crazy to continue breaking in… Oh but the songs you sing with your perfect chirp! And all the happiness you provide me when I hear you speak. Though I’m beginning to feel as though I need to replace you with another bird, for you are now in the possession of another. Yet, as I look at the birds they have brought in today, none of their feathers exude such a brilliant color as yours do. All these birds sound the same. They all say the same phrases. I know they are just doing what is expected of them, and surely if I had never encountered a bird like you, I’d find their little phrases quite amusing. Though in comparison, these birds’ presence just overwhelms me. There is so much quantity in what we have been presented with today, yet so little quality.
Sometimes I wish I could know if you look at me the same way I look at you: with permanent rose colored glass, only able to see the beauty and perfection that lies inside you. Every ounce of your being equating to just enough to satisfy all of my senses. To look at you, and think, will I ever stop falling in love with every single detail? The tiny gap between your teeth. The way your lips and teeth meet. The contrast between the flatness of your teeth, and the puffiness of your lips making your lips appear all that more appealing. The way your eyes look when just your gaze exudes how much you desire my body, but also the way they look when your emotions soften, and you pull me to you.
How the hair on every inch of your body reminds me that you’re rugged and masculine, just the way I like it. How it feels when you display your desire in one single embrace.
But sometimes it is not so easy to convey just how precious a moment feels. Sometimes words don’t do moments justice.
Sitting, surrounded by people, and none know a single thing that’s going on. The opposite sex accidentally reveals their struggle blatantly, but yours remains hidden. It’s random, unexpected, but also pleasant. You’re not supposed to feel these sensations while in public. It’s a private matter. You tell yourself to stop. To think about neutral topics. Despite it all, your body rages on. Coerced by nothing, stimulated by the unexpected. It’s just happening. As hard as you try to stop it, to repress it, it continues on.
The second you can, you run to a private space. You question why you’d allow yourself to feel such innapropriate sensations in public. ‘It didn’t harm anyone.’ ‘Yeah, but it’s also deviant behavior.’
There’s a knock at the door. You answer, and in he walks. That innocent little striped dress is now slipped off of your body by his big hands, with your assistance. Next thing you know, there you lay, directly undrrneath him, both of you with minimal fabric to cover your bodies and shield your eyes from lustful glances. His gaze is begging to look at your body in its one true state. Unclothed, unaltered, the imperfections revealed. You look into his eyes and desire the same of him. To have him reveal his body, for you to watch as he unveils what your body is begging to see. Both of you take turns indulging in how every part of one another’s bodies feel under the touch of your hands, how wonderful it is to run your mouth along the most delicate, sensitive areas, and place a kiss, or deliver a tantalizingly gentle bite. Your lips meet, and your tongues begin to explore and intermingle, like two long lost lovers discovering one another once again. He flips you two over, and now you’re on top. You’re nearly naked form on display. The first article of clothing… Then the next… Suddenly you’ve found yourself completely stripped of everything. His eyes take in every inch of your body, arousing all of his senses. It’s his turn next, and he happily obliges. Soon, the two of you have now found yourselves ultimately revealed. There’s nothing left to cover, everything’s exposed. You indulge in your desires. Your bodies mold as one, as he moves in you. You engage in the most sensual, lustful, forbidden, sinful, dirty act known to man, and you love every second of it.
Happy as ever, a picture perfect couple on paper. Around everyone else you two appear to be happier than ever. Deep inside you both are breaking. You want to make this work, but is it simply becoming a test to see how long you can maintain it? Sure you two care for one another, but where is the passion, the lust, the total understanding. No not the best friend kind of understanding. The kind that when you look into that person’s eyes, you know you’ve finally found that feeling, that connection that you’ve been looking for. It’s not just a lustful gaze, comfortable gaze, or a passionate gaze, it’s all of those and more combined into one look. You two are the only ones in the room in that moment, and everything fades away. The objects in the room are just a blur to you. All you see are those beautiful eyes staring back at you. That’s surely not what this is though… Yes there’s history, and yes they’ve got your back, but is them being them simply enough for you? If years down the road you were to meet again, with faded memories, and see them pounds heavier, would that feeling they give you still remain the same? If they were to do something that frustrated you to no end, would your reasoning be to get mad now, but not give up on them because the feeling of being apart would tear you apart to no end? Is your love for them unconditional? Not simply meaning you’d go out on a limb for them. That’s caring for someone–It’s quite common. The kind of unconditional that draws you to them when they’re away. They remain in your thoughts even when out of sight. The kind of connection that no matter what they do, no matter what’s going on, no matter how they look, just being them is enough. That’s all that matters. You wouldn’t have it any other way. You don’t want someone fitter, more intelligent, more accomplished, you want them. Only them. They’re perfection. Not external perfection, but rather internal. Every part of their soul resonates with yours and brings you peace, happiness, and fulfillment. If something exists between you two that we all can’t see, then by all means, continue on, keep the details of your relationship a secret to others. Allow others to see only a mirage of the two of you. Pretend to be the cookie cutter perfect couple. When you two appear to fumble and sink into a boring depressive state in public, don’t feel the need to defend your relationship if there’s more to it all that no one else is able to see but you two. If being apart is harder than being with them, then by all means, stay and savor every moment you’ve got. They’re your definition of perfect, not anyone else’s. Don’t feel the need to defend a connection you know is strong. Though if what they all say is true, if they’re simply not the one for you, listen to them, listen to those doubts you’re having. Perhaps you care for them, but spending your time with someone who doesn’t truly love you unconditionally, who you don’t truly love unconditionally, is surely a waste.
To those of you who read this thinking it was about you, just know that this isn’t just one person or couple I’m talking about. This is based on a mixture of all the relationships I’ve seen around me. But if at any point this made you think of someone, or a relationship, don’t ignore that. Just look at this like one of those cheesy reposts on Instagram with the caption “I never mentioned a name, but someone popped into your head while reading this.”
Time is a social construct made for those who feel compelled to measure life, measure moments, measure the time it takes to obtain happiness. There are others who disregard this petty measurement. They don’t see it as lacking or possessing value, it simply exists to them. A short love is not any less powerful than a longer love. You commit for a year, you commit for 4 months, the longest must be the strongest, right? It just might be the one that was worth holding onto. Well maybe that’s the case, but other times, the love most fleeting, those connections torn apart by bad timing, those are even more powerful, consuming, and captivating. However, let’s not discount time all together, for it plays a more drawn out role in those shorter love affairs too. It’s the time spent yearning for a lover’s presence after the split, it’s the time you’ll never get back, but couldn’t care less. The longer something resonates within your mind, the harder it becomes to deny it your attention.So when you pride yourself at staying together so long, 1 year, 2 years, whatever it may be, and celebrate that milestone, I apologize for my perplexed expression. Yes, it’s commendable that you’ve stuck together for so long, but I can’t help but be saddened by the thought that it’s so prevalent in your mind. What’s with the counting? The tallying of the days? I feel as though that alters your mind to think of it as a challenge, not a pleasure, to stay with one another. It’s like one of those games that requires intense endurance, that you can’t wait to set the record and finally take a rest (traffic master or flappy bird anyone…). Sure, setting that record feels great, and it provides ultimate bliss, but you’ve just cheapened the game. Where is the pure enjoyment of playing it? I think the problem is that it was never for the fun of the game, it was winning, it was beating the rest, proving you could do it.
Now I’m not saying you must look at games differently, but I feel you should look at relationships and love differently if this is the mentality that you’ve adopted. It’s not failure to lose a relationship 1 week in, 1 month in, 2 months in, etc. It’s simply a byproduct of self discovery. Your self discovery, but also the self discovery of who you date and choose to love. You find what you’re looking for, how you want to be treated, how you need to be treated, and they do the same. If in the process, one of you finds that it’s not working, it’s not a failure. In fact, that’s a success. You may not think that at the time, but when you’re happy years down the road, knowing that you two weren’t meant to be, you’ll be glad you stopped tallying the days and trying to set your new best record for the longest relationship you’ve had. Because that’s when you’ll find a relationship that feels like you’ve only been together for a week, when in reality, it’s been years. Days will blend together, and you won’t care to keep track of how long it’s been, cause that’s not important to you. You live in the moment of love, and that’s all that matters.
I feel tired, I want to sleep, my motivation is ceasing, and all I can think of is how this isn’t me. I haven’t been me for a while… Not just a few weeks, but for months, I’ve been some other person. I’ve lost the part of me that I love. To some it may seem trivial, it may appear to be lust, or come across as petty that something as simple as earthly desires occupies my mind so frequently. I apologize, it’s just something that never leaves my mind. For the longest time, I was free, I shared affection with those around me, and I loved life. When I’d become exclusive with someone, I’d easily turn people down, but still maintain a sincere friendship with them. The reason I turned them down so easily is not because I felt I had to or that they weren’t perfect in their own way, but because I was perfectly content in my current lover’s arms. When I’m in love I feel whole. Not because I need someone else to be complete. I don’t need someone to be happy. It’s the fact that I can express a part of me that is otherwise left unrevealed. I’m very affectionate. Not just your typical huggy, cuddly type, but even more. When I kiss your lips, I want to sense every part of your mouth. How you taste, how your lips feel pressed against mine, your breath. When I kiss your neck as I straddle your lap, I am in my most comfortable state. The action of kissing your neck is very enjoyable, but it’s not even just that. It’s watching you tilt your neck to expose more skin for my lips to devour. It’s hearing a groan escape your lips. Feeling you relax and enjoy every sensation. As I trail kisses up your neck and reach your ear lobe, I love the shift in reaction. To me, your ear lobe is perfect. It’s soft and adorable and fun to nibble on. For you, this simple, innocent part of your body contains nerve endings that somehow send pleasure throughout your body. There’s something about such an innocent body part providing you with pleasure that makes me happy. I love to run my hands through your hair and hold your head in my hands not only because I know it feels nice, but also because feeling your hair in my hands makes me content. It’s soft and perfect, and smells like you. When I sink my body into yours as I grind into you, I don’t simply enjoy the act just because it’s turning me on. I like to grind into you, to bring my body closer to yours, so that I can get as close to you as possible. I want to feel every inch of you pressed up against me, because to me, you are perfection. Perhaps I’ll finish the list of sexual acts at a later date, but for now, this will do. My point is, affection is one of my main modes of self expression. It makes me feel more like myself. I haven’t truly touched someone without inhibitions in a very long time. Just like in other aspects of my life, I’m quite particular and meticulous when it comes to choosing who I touch, simply because touch means so much to me. I don’t waste my time all too often, cuddling, kissing, or hugging the wrong people. When I like you, it means something, it doesn’t happen that often. So far, my methods have worked, I’ve never regretted a single touch. I wish to continue this way, but I’m not so sure how long I can hold off. I miss it. That human to human contact that reminds us of what it’s like to be alive. The foreign feeling of a first kiss with someone new.
My finger was seconds away from pulling the trigger. Standing in front of me was a figure I’ve come to know all too well. I felt inclined to end the existence of that form that stood before my eyes, but I hesitated. If I shot, the battle would cease and there would be no more uncertainty anymore. No more unanswered questions. No more undiscovered mysteries. The suffering would end, but so would the possibility of a happy ever after. It’s quite confusing as to how all those scenarios could be wrapped into one, but it’s a unique case I guess you could say. That figure embodies hope, but it also embodies despair. So when I waiver or consider ending it all, take a moment to envision yourself in my shoes. Know that this is torture. It’s prolonged heartbreak that seems to be never ending no matter what path I choose. Each path I see involves a new weapon, one that is far less lethal, but still inflicts harm, despite my efforts to maintain peace. I’ve come to the realization that no matter what, a wound, no matter how small, will come about from my actions. So I’m choosing a new weapon, not to purposely harm the figure, but to allow myself a release in order to feel again. I’ve set the gun down for now, because I’m not prepared to attend that funeral just yet.