Tag: emotional

Safe Places.

The room is clean, a candle is burning – the scent is eroko wood and moss. It is raining outside, and a ‘Relaxing Hang Drum Music for Meditation and Yoga’ video is playing from YouTube on my other tab.

I am on my period, bra-less, with tied up wet hair, wearing a face mask.

The scene is perfect for the pouring out of hearts. A safe place.

I find that although I have people that I would deem safe places for sharing – I still find myself censoring and toning down what is really in my heart and on my spirit.

So, to me, writing is the ultimate safe place.

My ultimate safe place.

–S.

The Light is Leaving their Eyes.

I’m an old fashioned fool when it comes to love.

What I mean by that is – I’d prefer to bump into your cart at the grocery store in the produce section while I’m picking out lettuce – not on Tinder or Plenty of Fish.

That seems to not be the way of the world anymore and it makes it harder for old school fools like me.

Currently: Still waiting at the grocery store for my husband to show up.

Most of my friends are in relationships, married, and/or have kids. Or some combination of that.

The friends who are not in a relationship – are on some form of online dating application.

And from what I’ve been able to gather from their stories over the years – it’s awful.

It goes a little something like this.

The flame is ignited, the wax slowly making its way up and down the sides of the candle.

He lives with his parents right now, but he’s in school. He loves his dog, they’re best friends. A super adorable labradoodle.

He’s working two jobs, such a hard-worker. Saving up to buy a house.

He’s a military vet, currently working towards becoming a police officer.

He’s 30, no kids, a miracle right?

He’s been responding with pretty long messages. The conversation seems to be flowing.

He actually wants to know things about me, hasn’t mentioned sex at all.

The bits and pieces of men you’ve never met intrigue you until you find the one that keeps your attention for longer than one conversation.

The candlelight glows hungrily in their eyes at this point – the ‘Could this really be it, possibly the one?’ Light.

Some meet instantly, others after weeks and months of conversation. Texting turns into phone calls that turn into video chats.

Sometimes you’re lucky to meet in a public place and you’re shocked that you’re actually on a date. Sometimes awkward, sometimes okay.

Sometimes you’re unfortunate and asked to meet at their place and you hesitate because you know this usually means they are only after one thing – sex.

Sometimes your luck is downright shitty shit and you’re asked to meet in a Walmart parking lot or something on the same level of WTF as that.

The flame burns, but it flickers. Not glowing as strongly as it did when your conversation first started – the fantasy in your head not living up to the reality.

The date was awkward and could have gone better, but some conversation is better than no conversation. Plus, aren’t most first dates awkward, anyway?

You really didn’t want to be the girl who has sex on the first night, but the intimacy of a physical human connection keeps your flame burning.

The parking lot is mostly empty, except for an RV Camper, an 18 – wheeler and two handfuls of late night shoppers and employees. Although you both have your own place and there are several places you can think of off the top of your head that you could have stopped into for a bite to eat or a drink that seem better than a Walmart parking lot, the potential that this could be something more propels you forward. Plus, the breeze in the still of the night, the glow coming off of the lights, and the cars zooming past you on the highway could sorta be seen as romantic, right? Right. Positive Thinking.

The flame doesn’t grow as brightly as it once did. We’re almost at the end of the candle.

He never calls or texts after the date. You dissect every second of it. Do you chew with your mouth open? Not that you can recall. Should you have worn the v-neck instead of the higher neckline? Do you look like your profile pictures? Maybe he was disappointed about that.

The conversation dies after the sex, but the sex continues. The only messages he sends now are sexual in nature and wondering when he can see you next to bed you again. You go anyway. Something is better than nothing and maybe the conversation will pick up again.

You’re in his car now, grateful that the parking lot is mostly deserted. While he’s running his hands down your body and grunting in your ear – you can’t help but recall that he never asked for your name. He doesn’t even know your name and he’s spilling himself all over your hand. He groans out an emotionless ‘baby.’ Any optimism or wishful thinking you were feeling dies in the moment he calls you ‘baby.’ And you think that you will never shop at a Walmart ever again.

The flame is dying, the light is leaving their eyes.

I wonder who is closer to love – is it me, hopeful while picking out lettuce or is it the girl with the message notification on her phone from 29 year-old Thomas who likes pina coladas and getting caught in the rain and thinks that’s still a catchy bio?

I don’t know the answer.

I’m just asking.

How do you know when you’re close to love?

How do you know when love has finally decided to pick you?

–S.

Brother’s 12th Birthday Card.

From 3 years ago.

Could you do something for me? Could you just hold on a second? Stop growing for a minute. Stay innocent a moment longer.

I’m not ready because I know what’s out there. I know that the world can break your heart a million ways to Sunday. And if I could somehow make it so, I’d shield you from it forever. I’d keep you in a bubble, so that I’d never have to see you hurt, down, or crying.

But then I’d be doing the world a disservice. Because your heart is one of a kind. I know that maybe I’m a little biased because you’re my baby brother. But I’ve seen you hold the door open for those who don’t have the same physical abilities we do. I’ve seen you cry at a Sarah McLaughlin commercial. I’ve heard your jokes. I’ve listened to you singing your favorite songs. I’ve seen you doing something you love. I’ve heard you laugh. I’ve seen your concentration when you draw. I’ve heard your hilarious comebacks when playing video games. I’ve seen your eyes light up when you’re building a Lego set. I’ve seen you love on a kitten. I’ve been amazed by your understanding of equality and the wisdom you possess beyond your years.

We never tried to shield you. We let you find your own opinions. Your own way.

And I know you’re going to be okay. Because you’re one of those people who is unapologetically themselves. A light in a too often dim world. A candle lighting the rest of the candles. A sparkler shooting sparks after the rest of the fireworks have died down.

But could you do something for me?

Could you just hold on a second?

I love you, E.

–S.

Pops.

You are the strongest, toughest, funniest person that I know.

I can’t imagine a world you’re not a part of.

One where I don’t get to see your nostrils flare or hear your funny comeback.

One where I don’t get to see you loving mom or brother.

Knowing you’re somewhere living, breathing, loving, and laughing gives me the strength to always do the best that I can even when I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

–S.

Overnight Bags.

You make me happy.

I don’t know why I can’t just shut off my brain and keep my heart working instead.

Scientifically, because one cannot function without the other.

I want to be one in this happiness. I want to live in it.

I want to dwell in it, but my brain develops pictures of the future, and I can’t see you in them.

I’ve packed your bags, although you’ve just arrived.

They say what we love, we leave behind.

Maybe, I just won’t tell you that I love you.

–S.

As Deep as the Ocean.

My heart is heavy tonight because I realize that it may never happen again.

Not that I want it to, but I may never find another connection like the one that I have with my best friend who moved away.

Not that I’m searching, but we live in that kind of society now.

Maybe it’s the generation that I am a part of.

I went out to eat with someone today – which I don’t do often these days – and they seemed so disinterested in what I had to say.

I’d say things that I’d tell her.

I’d refer to things that she would know.

Only to find out what I already knew – that this person wasn’t her.

We like superficial things now. We interact with people at work. We interact with people at school. We interact with people at the grocery store. We interact with people at the drive-thru. But anything more than this – is simply too much for you to ask us to do.

It’s too deep.

Depth scares us.

If there is no depth, it’s easier for you to rid yourself of that person.

It breaks my heart that lifetime friendships are a rarity in this day and age.

We meet seasonal people – over and over again.

We all search for it.

Connections.

Our Heart – Our Soul – Our Spirit – Our Mind.

They all yearn to be connected to something. Not necessarily romantic in nature. But just simply the comfort of knowing that one day you might not have a god damn thing to say or won’t know how to say what you need to say and that person will understand completely.

For generations to come, I wish you friendships with the depth of an ocean.

–S.

A Texas Summer.

That summer, he shaved his beard off.

She cut her hair.

Running his hand through her short hair, he said ”I loved your long hair, why did you cut it?”

She laughed and said, ”I tried to cut you out of it,” with sad eyes.

And he stared at her – like he’d tried to cut her out of his beard, too.

–S.

Dreaming.

I dreamed that we could always be that close.

That I would always be the one that your heart desired, that it loved.

That we played together, that we laughed.

That when one of us was down, the other was always around to bring them up.

I dreamed of giving my virginity to you.

of you being the one for me, forever.

Just one. The first and the last.

I dreamed of you as the perfect husband and devoted father.

Affectionate.

I dreamed that our chemistry never faded.

That it always burned as brightly as it ever did.

I dreamed your laugh forever.

I dreamed your smile.

I dreamed your love.

I dreamed your touch.

I dreamed your weight on top of me.

–S.

I will miss my friend.

I was disappointed to find out that nothing had changed.

That within me there still lived this thing, something that always wanted to please you.

I hate that and that is the truth.

I can’t be your friend. I actually don’t want to be.

I would be –  in an ideal universe where my head could un-think what it thought about you and erase all of the memories.

I would be – in an ideal universe where my heart could un-feel what it felt for you.

I would be – in an ideal universe where my soul didn’t feel like it was supposed to be connected to yours forever.

That is what I will miss the most – my friend.

For most, well all situations, I usually say that I wouldn’t change anything about the way the events played out because of the experience and the lessons that I learned along with it.

But, I would undo this one.

I want you to know that I would undo it all to ensure that we could always be friends.

As with most things, my mind added fresh paint over the pictures of us, the memories of us, the fantasies of us, the daydreams of us.

My daydreams and fantasies creating the perfect encounters.

However, they never actually existed.

At least not in the way that I painted them to be.

In another life, maybe.

In this life, never.

–S.