Moments

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.

Don’t Fret

My body is at peace, my soul is in turmoil. Yet my soul is responsible for bringing my body the amount of nourishment it needs. I am not starving. My soul is preoccupied, and so therefore my body forgets the hunger. It doesn’t kill me. If anything, this is the medicine it needs. To truly desire the nourishment my body truly craves is a wonderful feeling. Here I am, all too often left even more indulged than I ever wanted. I feel uncomfortably full. I don’t like that feeling. So when my mind tells my body it is time to take a break from the nourishment, maybe it is trying to get my body to feel again. That overwhelmingly full feeling suppresses the satisfaction. It dampens the enjoyment of a perfect meal. 

It’s not premeditated, it is simply forgetfulness. It is quite interesting that now is the time you feel the need to worry. Please don’t fret over me. I am handling myself. In fact, nothing is truly the matter at the moment. If something were, you wouldn’t have a clue. No one ever does. Though that is ok. I don’t need the council of others to help me back up when I am down. I’ve learned to deal with it on my own. If anything, handling it alone in a quiet room with some space to think and write is all I need to get back on track. If anything, all the worried words makes it worse. Remember how when you’d fall as a child, it wasn’t the pain itself that startled you, it was the gasps and worried eyes of those around you. The pain wasn’t even noticeable until it was brought to your attention. It prompts me to ask myself “is there something I should be upset about? Am I anorexic because I forgot a meal yesterday, then the next, decided I would prefer to stay in and eat a little less than an “adequate” meal?” No, it doesn’t. I am aware of how my emotions affect me, and it is simply the tunnel vision on my tasks that has me like this. Yes, I was feeling upset the other night and there are still some residual feelings, but it isn’t like these feelings weren’t present before. They have been going on for quite a while now, you just now got a glimpse of them. I didn’t intend to give you a preview of them, it just happened as a result of my will weakening. I didn’t have the energy to put on a fake facade that night.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever written about my opinions on advice. Though, no matter if I have or not, here is the updated version of what I feel about the topic. Recently I have come to realize that the more “advice” I get on how to live my life, the less I feel like those around me truly understand. I have made decisions based on my own intuition this far, and I have done quite well. I know what I can handle, I know what’s best for me, and I want to be in charge of what I do and do not regret. I feel like advice is a flowery word to mask what it truly is: others interjecting their opinion and judgement on the situation, not their understanding, and not their support.

A while ago, someone asked me if I had to pick between two extremes, which would I chose: a person who is constantly in my business, asking what’s wrong, giving advice, and being “there for me,” or someone who recedes for a while and allows me to be alone to handle my emotions on my own. At first I thought I would want the first, because I wouldn’t want the second who would “abandon” me when things got tough. Now that i think about it, I would choose the latter, because advice that lacks perspective is worse than no advice at all. Though, I’ve found that I prefer a silent presence over all. Someone I want around, who will just lay with me as I think about what’s on my mind.

Unconditional 

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.” 

tea with honey

Imagine for a second, a freshly steeped cup of tea. No sweeteners or creamers added. It is raw and unique in its particular set of flavors. Each cup of that one flavor however, is different than the next. No cup of tea is the same. Though once you get past that simple fact, there is also tea with honey. This cup of tea with honey is just like the rest, but it is extra sweet. It’s addictive. At points you find yourself having an afternoon cup of tea with the addition of honey not because you find yourself parched, but rather, you crave it.

Voices are much like tea. They’re all different, whether or not they share similarities, not one is the same. When you add sugar and creamer to tea, I would say that’s a thicker version of a particular tone of voice. But when you add honey to tea, it is like a voice with a perfect accent.

The way you speak entrances me. I could listen to you whisper sweet nothings into my ear all day. When in a fit of passion, you declare your desire for me as a whisper in my ear, the trill and the quality of your voice weakens me every time. I never knew a voice could seduce me until I heard you speak for the first time. It’s unique in every way, and just hearing your voice makes me smile and bite my lower lip in utter content. Hearing you laugh is almost as entrancing as hearing you speak, because there is a thickness and perfect taint to that beautiful laughter. Its unapologetically raw and pure in the expression of your true natural pitch. That laughter of yours resonates within a room and brings warmth with it. I have one last comment and then I’ll leave it at that. I love your voice and want you to know that every moment you speak, every moment you laugh adds to the essence of a room. Don’t let that perfect voice ever be silenced. Don’t ever let it go to waste. 

Time

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. 

Lethargy 

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. 

The Gun 

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.