Faceless companions

How about I jump into the void?
How about I jump into a sea... of stars.
How about I breathe calm while the rest of me is a nose-diving bird.
How about, life?

This is me, happy. Bored and sullen and nothing to really talk about but the mundane dredges of life scraping me by, of building up in the most painful, heavy-duty way to something I will only be able to stand on top of and scream, ten years from now. But I'm happy. I'm excited, and I like who I am. Selfish, not-thinking and seeing the partner I was supposed to devote my life to. The man/men I promised the world to, the moon when they promised me stars, the music when they promised me the lyrics, the words and pictures when they promised me postcards and footsteps when they promised me paths through riverbeds and mountaintops. It was so easy to walk away, to let go and forget that it worries me. It worries me to be alone but it throws me out into the middle of the desert with my own canvas to paint fake blues in the middle of, to splash my own mirage of H2O because I can.

Because I would love to. Because the only person I still love and doesn't disappoint me, is me. I am soon becoming the man I wanted to marry, and I'm ok with it.

Floating debris

When two people really connect, or are really attracted to each other, there's something pulling them together. But there's also something blinding their long term vision. Myopia. Every relationship starts with severe myopia. This could be good in the long run- it could mean a disciplined, daily ritual of putting on your glasses to see the world better, clearer, to see every blade of grass and every outline of a leaf that so far you only thought was a great big amorphous lump of green. And then only taking them off to shut your eyes to all of it. Or it could mean added vision impairment, myopia with hypermetropia, everything becoming fuzzy along the edges, truth submerging into reality into falsehood, into decrepit egos and mutual respect and love turning into an object to own and possess. It could mean, blindness. 

What have we done to each other? Here I sit, watching Two Night Stand on my laptop on a warm Saturday night. It's 10:30 PM, my room's a mess- great parallels being drawn to my general life there. I'm already dressed for bed, we can all smell the pathos here. And I'm all alone in an empty 3 bedroom sprawling mansion of a house, roommate missing, the TV on to some muted romantic comedy to give background, to give me white noise without the noise, to make me believe I'm not alone. Oh and my mother sitting miles away from me, texting me, she's the only person left. And maybe that's best. 

Where are you? Out with your friends, reclaiming your life that I made you lose. You see, the irony is. We were in different places when we met, maybe even opposites. I was not who you claim to dislike today. I am jealous and insecure and annoying and nagging and disrespectful and egoistical and BLIND because you made me get here. You literally held my hand and dropped me off in this land like it was school time and I couldn't bunk. I turn over my shoulder but nothing's changed. You won't admit you're bipolar, schizophrenic, an ex-depressed beautiful person who's heart was supposed to be in the right place. Who was supposed to let me fix him. I guess the joke's on me. On me and my tears. I only wanted sympathy, love, care affection and respect. Respect. For my dreams and ambitions and hopes that did involve you, if only at the last stage. What was in it for you? Not much, just a sad prize of a remainder of a lifetime of togetherness. I can understand how that's not an attractive proposition anymore. I mean look at me. But then when you do, also look at yourself. You turned a fun, sexy, cool, humorous, lively, confident, caring, ambitious and loving person (with her help as well) into this. Into me. You loathe me, and guess what. You are not alone. 

Milestone

I’m so overpowered by you. You drown me, but I come gasping up for breath right before it’s too late and the adrenaline rush keeps me going underwater. Again, and again.

I’m engulfed by you. You’re the warmest blankest on the coldest winter day. The muse to my dying art. The canvas that resuscitated me into painting the blankness of the walls of my solitude. You brought me out of hiding. Out of darkness into large, beautiful fields of daisies that are looking up each day. Each day that is filled with sunshine and the clouds and rains are happier than they were told to be by their creators.

You’ve created me. Almost from thin air. Almost as if I had no existence, no purpose, before you. But like this gifted sculptor, that only comes around once in a century, you have appeared to remodel me from shapeless clay, into edges of exquisiteness that only appears stunning to me when I see myself through your eyes. Those eyes, they do me in.

What have I done to deserve this unconditionality? This island in shimmering blue waters, far far away from civilization that really isn’t even civil. Because my conversations on this paradise, with you, are all that come close to Utopia. The verbal and silent ones. The times where we don’t even need to speak because our hearts, eyes and souls do. When I wake up in our hut of constant, endless ecstasy. My drug and my meditation is encompassed in you. You seal me, into nothingness and yet so much substance that I feel like I’m walking barefoot on green grass after the morning dew has just touched it. I’m light and weightless because you’re carrying me through life.

You pace me into breakneck speed. It feels like a ride, clinging onto you, zipping through stationary figures and fields and yet sensing an envelope of warmth and safety, like falling through the skies into a safety net that looks like a dreamcatcher.

Stop catching my dreams before I get used to it. I’m scared because I’ve never owned anything so precious, so priceless. Stay. I’ll make mistakes, I’ll fuck up, I’ll have to bite my tongue a hundred times a day. But I’ll mean the look I give you first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. I’ll mean my life that I owe to you hereon. I’ll mean my head on your heart and I’ll mean my eternal love to you in this lifetime and the next.

I love you. Don’t stop loving me.