December 29, 2009

Frosted Tears and Bungee Cords

That snowflake turned into a raindrop, changed into a tear and then once again changed its'   form to be frost upon my cheeks.

Those teardrops ran down my cheeks in a way they haven't in this eternal year. A silver lining to this fog, I suppose. Just as is my custom I thought that the key to lifting the fog was my vulnerability.

I know you aren't cruel and I could tell you were trying to not be. I knew you were trying to break it to me gently. But here is the lesson for this night. You can't break something without pain. You can't hurt someone just a little.

Pain is necessary for life, but it wasn't necessary for us.

The fog has lifted, but the Winter Wonderland I wished for wasn't there. Instead of the fog lifting and bringing us together in understanding it separated us.  Now you are happily jet-setting around, and I am in this room where silence echoes and insomnia reins. The fog warped my dreams into our own realities. That sparkling winter wonderland melted into these tears. Tears I can't keep. Tears that turn to frost upon my cheeks and in my heart faster than I can save them.

I jumped off this cliff and aimed for your arms. I'm hoping that I tied that bungee cord tightly around my legs. So that when the tears stop and I shut that door you unknowingly opened to my heart; I can bounce up on onto the firm footing of the mountainside. I rocketed closer and closer to the bottom of that cliffs end. I closed my eyes to my over thinking and insecurity. I wanted the leap that I took. Whatever the consequence. I wanted to fall into your arms.  Whether I landed in your heart and arms or careened to my death I wanted it to be fate. I took a peek before I reached the bottom. My curiosity got the best of me. Were you ecstatic? Surprised? Ready? Arms out and waiting? The moment I thought our eyes would meet I looked. I saw you standing a mere ten feet away, arms crossed and a confused look on your face; as you watched me fall to certain death. An hour later you made your way toward me, patted me on the shoulder and let me know that you aren't what I was looking for. How kind of you let me know.

I'll let you know something, but I'm afraid I won't be as diplomatic. That was the wrong damn move dude, if even the smallest part of you wanted to be mine and I yours. You could have been my "be here now".  

Maybe not my always. Maybe not my forever. But my "be here now"

Looking back, I don't know what really happened last night. And a part of me says I don't really want to know. Whatever the cause of the whiplash of emotions you displayed last night, I was hurt. Deeply so. I won't post the entire blog I wrote last night in the midst of tears and rejection. That wouldn't be fair to you.
I could beg and plead. I could open up my heart to you again. I could explain the hurt. I could explain all the emotions. Perhaps that would be the adventurous thing to do. But my heart is tired of adventures. It can't do the Indiana Jones Impression again tonight. Perhaps that's all I am for you, an impression of an adventuresome spirit. But that is another thought for another night. For now I need to curl up in a blanket and find some willpower in this soul of mine and make this frost a hard freeze.

I wish it was different but this frost is here to stay. 

Upon my cheeks and my heart. A physical manifestion of the numbness of this briar patch of a heart

December 25, 2009

Burning Fog and Electric Hearts

So did you choke or did I? Or was it a mixture of both? Unsurprisingly this is a mystery to me and to you. I'm feeling lost and in a state of limbo. Regretting the words I have said and those I haven't said. When I'm with you my world gets lost in your eyes. It's only you and me. Stuck inside this space in time. Are we destined to move past this limbo of dimensions? Into our very own? Or is our fate completely separate? I thought you were the one I had been wishing for upon snowflakes. And then this morning as I drove to meet you the skies which had promised snow only brought fog. The sneer upon my face came when I recognized the irony before me in the sky. A single snowflake would've revealed the world to me. But instead the fog set in  and more mystery arose.

When I try to look into your eyes and see if fate has an answer for us, the fog overtakes my vision and all I can see is your neverending kindness. I once again wander into the fog and get lost in it and perhaps in you. I thought today would surely be the day that the fog between us would lift. For a moment, the sun would come out and light upon the snow. Creating a sparkling winter wonderland of our very own. Each snowflake a promise and each crystal a diamond of emotion. The understanding would fall as quietly as a surprise snowfall. Instead as the minutes ticked by the fog only became more and more dense. It got to the point where I couldn't look you in the eyes for fear of losing my way.

 I drove home with the ache that precedes my tears. My heart ached with the weight of all our possibilites and the realization of the lack of probability. My mind is full of the O so complexly simple question "How do you feel?" Right on its' heels follows the more bothersome wonderings. Am I mistaking your kindness for anything more? What about all the shared glances and secret smiles? Perhaps they were meant for someone else, or a fluke. But what about the electricity between us? I can't explain that away. When you walked into that room a few short days ago, my heart beat faster, slower and stopped beating all at the same time. I was sure everyone else could sense the electricity that shot between our hearts and into our eyes. It was tangible. And then as you hugged everyone that jumped up in excitement I sat and watched you with new vision.For some unknown reason, in those first few moments I felt that you were there only for me. That you were slowly making your way past the formalities of everyone else and I was your reason.  It slowly dawned on me, you were not there for me. Or with me. And so the fog set in.

Since then the subject of "us" hasn't been off my mind. The night of graduation comes to mind immedietely. I had jumped off the cliff of stress. I had sworn off guys as I blockaded my heart. I said no to you and chose my horses. And all those factors went out the window when I saw you there. Front Row. With my family. It was so right and so perfect. You had driven all night to get there just for me. And I said no. I'm so sorry for being blind to you and all that you have become to me. Because as we stood talking to people afterwards being next to you was the most natural thing in the world. How I longed for your touch. I have healed since then, I've opened my heart again to faith. Symbolically, I've opened my heart to you. The universal elusive you. The Hallelujah I've wished for, written for, and prayed for. And so I know, every moment I have become closer to being ready to be your one and only. Do you know how strong your healing gift is? It fairly emanated from you as I stood up on that stage and testified of my faith. As I took a stand and dared everyone else to take a stand, for what they believed, for their dreams, and for their passion. Those words have special significence now as we struggle to work past our image of ourselves into the vision of us.

All of this brings us to now. Another choke? I wish I felt free to encourage you and whisper my feelings in your ear. I wish I could have given you the Heimlich. I wish I had said everything that I wanted to. But I didn't.

I'm wishing on snowflakes again. Wishing for the fog to burn off and reveal the truth. For our electricity to bring us closer. Even if it hurts, I want you next to me. Now and maybe forever. We'll never know unless we allow our hearts to touch. For only then may we know what this electricity means, and all that it could possibly mean.

Today I could feel the electricity even as I knew we were both trying to smother it, to not let the other one know. It was distant and it was somber, but it was there. I feel as if, if we reached out and touched, reaching across all these dimensions, it would be all over from there. We would no longer be able to deny it. Hugging you feels much like breathing... and so somehow I know that holding your hand or being wrapped up in you would be akin to the adrenaline rush we both get from hiking, running or being out on a difficult ski run. I already live for that adrenaline rush and long for the day I get it from your touch. So reach out. Touch me. Let us connect and never look back. It could be the beginning of our end, and the end of our beginning. I'm ready now for you. Are you ready for me? Is it yet time for me to run, to jump into your arms?

I don't know all the signals and I don't understand all the signs, you will have to show me how. I'm willing to learn all that you are and all that we could be.... And so I'm waiting for another snowfall and another answer.

December 11, 2009

Reaching Across the Dimensions

I believe there are different dimensions to this world of ours. I don't know the scientific reasoning . Whether it be quantom physics or a dream in my heart. Whatever it is I don't find it farfetched to think that there could be other beings, other people in this room with me.  Living their own lives in their own time. If only I could learn the secret, the bridge between this dimension and yours.If I reach out are you right here next to me? In a different dimension? In a different space in time? Are you as real as the air I breathe? Or are you more akin to the air I forget to breathe? If I were to reach towards you at the same moment you reached for me could our fingertips meet? Would you finally be with me?

What is farfetched about this is not the possibility but the probability.

I'm wishing for you on every snowflake I see. I know I need you now. Do I need you enough for those wishes to be fulfilled? I know not. This I do know, I can now name this ache in my heart. It is the yearning for you and for all you are to me already. I don't know you, at least not in this worlds definition of know. But I do know that our hearts are equal in passion both for life and already for each other. As surely as I believe that my soul told me so, so I do believe in the prophecy's I've heard about you. I know you are a gentle broken soul. A healer just as I am. That you are my equal in more than passion but also in the age of our souls. That is the first dimension to our possibilities.How many dimensions do we have? A third? A fourth? I'm content with the first, but hungry for more depth.

Reach out for me now as I am for you. Perhaps we will touch each others fingertips and perhaps a swift feel of each others' heart. I have always known it will be over from there. The end of life as we know it. Dimensions will collide. Time will stand still. We will no longer be alone fighting the screaming silence. We will be together. Not to late. Not a moment to soon. Fate.
The beginning of our end. The end of our beginning.

That knowing I had has scared me for years. I still cannot put a finger on the reasoning for my fear. Fear of the known I suppose. I have looked for you behind every corner and underneath every street light. Any stranger could be you. My beginning and my end. I know you will come, sometime in this lifetime. I let go of that knowing in this eternal year. I had lost my hope in you and our love. I'm sorry for that. I'm trying to grasp onto that hope again, but daily life seems to be grabbing my fingers away. A test of strength and will? Perhaps, if so I'll hold on even with just one finger until the end of time. If only to get a glimpse of you, the one I dream of nightly.

So reach out. Touch my fingertips. Bridge the dimensions between us. Be here now. For I need you now. Am I asking for a life without pain or worry? No. All I ask for is that when you reach out your hand that we walk together from here on out.. Am I asking you to run, leap and then fly? All I ask is for that first step. Just reach out to me now. Love, real and true love is like hope. To hope is to illuminate a darkened soul. To love is to accept that darkened soul and to make it better. Fear has no place in that. Years ago I referred to a hero as a person not without fear, but one who was afraid and went to battle anyways. Be my hero.

So help me to put down this broken mirror of lies and deceit. Take it out of my hand and replace it with yours. The looking glass into our Wonderland.

December 10, 2009

Silence Echoes and Insomnia Reigns

And at the end of the day, I'm still alone in the seemingly vast expanse of my bed. It doesn't seem to matter what manner I leave people in. If I make them laugh. If I make them think. If I comfort their woes with my words. If I'm simply a listening ear. If I drive them up a wall or make them cry. It just... doesn't matter. The end result is the same. I'm alone in my bed. Sometimes I can find comfort in that fact; knowing what I do doesn't matter. Tonight though, the silence echoes and my insomnia reigns. I think back on all the roles I have played today. At the time each seemed real and genuine. I didn't have to fake a single emotion that I portrayed. So why do I now feel hollow? Why is there nothing to me besides a role? When I sign off and turn out the lights; slowly making my way upstairs to my room its as if another part of me melts away. When I take that final step all that is left is this shell and the silence. I hurriedly turn on my phone and chat about how great her night was. I embrace this role. My day isn't over! No matter what the darkness of the night says. We say our goodbyes and I'm left with only silence again.

It's this depression that comes upon me in silent waves. It's this depression that I try to fight against. It's the depression that makes me forget to care if I live or if I die. It's this depression that has me questioning if this is all real or my minds twisted version of Wonderland. And it's this depression that makes me wonder if I will have find more meaning in life than being their strong tower. Because it's this depression that has this strong tower crumbling from the inside out. Most of all... it is this depression that hears the screams in the silence. I'm afraid to give into it's pleas again. To traverse that dark road of memories and sins. So I'll rise again tomorrow. I'll be your tower. Will you notice that it's smaller than the day before? Or will you brush it off as a mind game? I'll take your weight happily. For if I didn't play this role for you I would have to listen to the silence scream in the daylight also. No I'm happy to be your tower. Your sounding board. Your whipping boy. Lean on me. Talk to me. Beat me. I'll be whatever you need. And even more. If only you ask. I'll never ask anything of you. Why? Because I don't know how. I've never played that role. It's a win-win without consequence. Or so I thought. Is there more? I feel free to pen those words but not to think on them.

At night I waken from a fitful sleep and reach out for you. For who? I know not. Perhaps simply for someone. Someone who can change my fitful sleep to one of peace. Someone to quiet the silence with their own whispers of hope. Someone who makes me less alone. Is this only wishful thinking? Or a vision of my fate? Could it only be empty words to fill this once empty page... to fill my empty heart? Whoever you are. Hold me. Smooth my hair away from my face. Cradle my tears in your heart. Drown out the silence because I can't. My fan on high and music on only makes the silence next to me in this empty bed scream at a deafening pitch.

I would like to give up on this battle. To simply wave my white flag and walk away. I'm tired...tired of fighting the silence. I don't know how much longer I can act this part without you. I think I need you. now. If only to lean on you for a moment. Or an eternity of moments. Is that okay with you? I need you now.. whoever.. or wherever... you may be. I don't want to be alone anymore. Rescue me before the depression knocks upon the door of my heart again. I haven't the strength to say no again.

Rescue me now...
for I need you now...

December 7, 2009

Through the Looking Glass, and Jabberwocky Considering that Journey

What if this isn't all just Jabberwocky? What if Lewis Carrol wasn't just a stoner who "wrote under the influence"? What if there really is a whole new world through the Looking Glass? And what if we are each a form of Alice? Someone lost in a world that defies imagination.

It is of no surprise to me that Alice in Wonderland still captivates my mind. I will defend it and Lewis Carrol till the death...or until the Cheshire Cat appears around the next corner. My secret aspiration is for my writing to someday equal that of Lewis Carrol. A stoner or a verbose genius. I guess your opinion is your own. However, you cannot deny that the world he created through his words, is magical. Magical in a frightening way. Was there ever a time that Alice was not confused or frightened? No. Not so terribly different from the "real world". Though some days I look around and wonder if this is all real or not. Perhaps I came through the Looking Glass and just can't remember the world from whence I came. This hypothesis seems stunningly plausible at the moment. Especially when I consider portions of an unposted blog.

"This all depends on perspective. I look through this great stained glass window. Everyone sees life differently. Everyone sees right and wrong as black and white, shades of gray, or as a rainbow of details. Good and evil reign in each man's heart. Which side you build up is only a choice of your own heart. You can fight against your demons or welcome their lies.


"I look through this great stained glass window. I can see a vibrancy of color as I gaze out on the street. The person next to me sees a world only of grey. Are they colorblind? Or are their eyes open to the truth?"


"I long for depth and beauty. You long for comfort. Is either wrong? I'll find my depth and beauty and you will find your comfort. Do either of us live lies? I'll go on and you will stay. Are either of us missing out? My answer is no. We may both be living our lives to the fullest extent allotted to us. We may both be experiencing it all."


The more I wonder the less I know; which means the less I know the more I know. Just as in Alice and Wonderland. Alice overthought each new experience she came upon, and realized she didn't know quite as much about the world, real or imaginary, as she thought she did. When that finally sank in her entire world changed. (No pun intended) Now I don't know how long I would last in a horror movie. I don't know how soon I could "get the guy" in a romance comedy. And I don't know if I could out karate chop Jackie Chan (well... ok I do know that one). This I do know I'd love the chance to live in a number of the worlds I have read about. A sometimes wise friend said

"books are always better than the movies… what they can put on film can never match your imagination"

I firmly believe this. The worlds of Narnia, Middle Earth and Wonderland of my imagination simply can't compare with the worlds the movies have made them into. A box if you will. It's not that they did a bad job; but it was the writers Narnia, the set designers Middle Earth, the directors Wonderland. It wasn't mine. Call me selfish, I won't deny it. I probably am on this matter. Yes I would love to be Lucy, Arwen or Alice. I wouldn't make the mistakes they made, instead I would make an all new set of my own. And that fact is so strangely comforting. I would have the freedom to make mistakes, not without consequence, no I'm not that jaded. Don't you see they would be MY mistakes. My very own. All mine. For the first time in life I wouldn't be a combination of everyone I have ever known. No I would be me, all mistake making failure me. For the first time in years I think I can be ok with not being perfect. Strange the lessons a simply complex book can teach.

Perhaps I am more off the wall than I thought. My "bucket list" doesn't consist of bungee jumping or heli-skiing (ok yea that one is on there). But of experiencing the thing's I have only read about. The following is a short excerpt of it:

Middle Earth (all three books!)
The Last Unicorn
Silver Blaze
Jane Eyre
A Midsummer Nights Dream
Spindles End
The Blue Sword
Betsy Tacy and Tibb
The Scarlet Pimpernel

How I plan to experience all of this I haven't the faintest idea. Mark my words, I will. Somehow, someday I will ride a charger through Camelot, solve a mystery alongside Sherlock Holmes and tumble through the Looking Glass... if only in my dreams.