Whoever
you are, wherever you are … I’m starting to think we’re a lot alike. Human
beings wanting to be seen, touched, heard, paid attention to.
In the
last year or 3 I’ve screamed at my creator. Screamed at clouds in the sky. For
some explanation. Mercy maybe. For piece of mind to rain like manna somehow. 4
summers ago, I met somebody. I was nearly 30 years old. He was too. He bought a
summerhouse on the other side of the lake. My yearly peaceful escape was
interrupted by his presence. We
spend that summer, and the summer after together, every day almost, sharing
life stories, reading, staring at the quite skies. And on the days we were
together, time would glide. Most of the days I’d see him and his smile, I’d
hear his conversations and his silence, even when he was on his side of the
lake. It even felt like I was sharing sleep with him. By the time I realized I
was in love it was malignant, it was hopeless, there was no escaping, no
negotiating with the feeling. No choice. It was my first love. It changed my
life. Back then my mind would wonder to the men I had been with. The ones I
cared for and thought I was in love with. I reminisced about the sentimental
songs I enjoyed when I was younger. The ones I played when I experienced a
boyfriend for the first time. I realized they were written in a language I did
not yet speak. I realized too much too quickly.
Imagine
being thrown from a plane. I wasn’t in a plain though. I was in my Pontiac
Firebird ready to leave. The same car I packed up with bags and drove to Los
Angeles every last weekend of every August. I sat there and told my friend how
I felt. I wept as the words left my mouth. I grieved for them, knowing I could
never take them back for myself. He patted my back. He said kind things. He did
his best, but he wouldn’t admit the same. He had to go back inside soon. It was
late and his girlfriend was waiting for him upstairs. He wouldn’t tell me the
truth about his feelings for me for another 3 years. I felt like I’d only
imagined reciprocity.
Today I read some truth about being a human and wanted to share this with you to inspire:
In the
last year or 3 I’ve screamed at my creator. Screamed at clouds in the sky. For
some explanation. Mercy maybe. For piece of mind to rain like manna somehow. 4
summers ago, I met somebody. I was nearly 30 years old. He was too. He bought a
summerhouse on the other side of the lake. My yearly peaceful escape was
interrupted by his presence. We
spend that summer, and the summer after together, every day almost, sharing
life stories, reading, staring at the quite skies. And on the days we were
together, time would glide. Most of the days I’d see him and his smile, I’d
hear his conversations and his silence, even when he was on his side of the
lake. It even felt like I was sharing sleep with him. By the time I realized I
was in love it was malignant, it was hopeless, there was no escaping, no
negotiating with the feeling. No choice. It was my first love. It changed my
life. Back then my mind would wonder to the men I had been with. The ones I
cared for and thought I was in love with. I reminisced about the sentimental
songs I enjoyed when I was younger. The ones I played when I experienced a
boyfriend for the first time. I realized they were written in a language I did
not yet speak. I realized too much too quickly.
