I don’t believe you can go to a wedding at not think of your own. As I attended a friend’s ceremony this weekend, I was pulled back to mine. I remembered watching my own bride walk down the aisle, her tearing up as she read me her vows, and all that has happened since.
It was a beautiful day in a tragic love story. It is hard to think of that day and understand how it ended in such hurt, deceit and betrayal. Its hard to believe that just a few short years later, her passion and conviction of that day could have dissolved to nothing.
Standing amongst the guests at the reception, I hear people speaking of true love, of the glimmer in their eyes, the excitement in their faces, and I remember hearing those same words at my own. How many times were we told our vows were beautiful and moving, and so obviously from the heart? I stay quiet and drink my wine. I find a seat and try to stabilize my mind.
Another glass, I meet the people at my table. A singer/actor couple sits next to me. They were married the same summer as I, but I see affection between them. She looks at him with adoration as he speaks, and I can tell she is so proud of the man he is, the man she married. They are sweet and warm, and I speak little of myself. I smile and laugh and pretend I was never wed.
Dinner comes, conversations continue, several more glasses of wine are consumed. I listen to the toasts, the advice given to the newlyweds. None of it is unknown to me, no words I didn’t live by, no actions I didn’t do.
Their first dance, sweet, playful and impressive. We had practiced ours for weeks, taken lessons, put in so much effort. I didn’t dance before my bride, I had never been drawn to it. But she loved it, and so I had learned to love it.
They open up the dance floor for everyone else, and I come to a moment in myself. A choice of self to be made. I could sit in this chair, and wallow in her decisions, or I can make one for myself. Dancing may have been sparked by her, but tonight I will dance for me. I finish the wine in front of me and get up.
So few of us dancing for a wedding, but I don’t mind. Music with a beat, and I lose my mind in the movement. A blur of hours, faces, dancing with dozens of strangers, I laugh honestly as I realize I am having a good night.
Standing outside, snow falling heavy on me as I savor a cigarette, the bride and groom driven off through the night, I sigh with a calm contentedness. I can build within myself all I loved in her. I can be my own source of passion, happiness, and joy. I can dance the night away, and enjoy every minute of it, no matter who she decides to be.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
A Knight's Vindication part ii
The ground was glazed with frost as the three hooded horsemen rode into the village. The men were armed and clad in heavy leathers and furs, clearly warriors, and as the townsfolk noticed them, they retreated into their homes. There were few reasons soldiers would visit such a hamlet, none of which the citizens would want to be involved in.
The frozen earth crunched noisily under the horses’ hooves as they rode to the center of town. The largest building in town was the inn, and there the men dismounted and entered, walking tall and with purpose. Their boots sounded heavily on the wooden floors of the hall as they strode toward the keeper. The keeper was a small man, standing barely to the shoulders of the hooded men, and as they neared he seemed to shrink even further.
The tallest of the hooded men removed his cover, revealing his stern, weathered face. His eyes, gray as the churning seas, captivated the keeper, and as he stared back into them, he felt a powerful mixture of sorrow and fear.
“I am looking for the man named Decker”, they gray eyed man stated. The keeper stood, still transfixed under this stranger’s gaze for several seconds before responding.
“Decker? The painter?”
“Yes, that is the man I seek.”
“What do you want with him?”
“That is my business”, they gray eyed man’s words were calm, but still sent shivers of terror down the keepers spine.
“I-I... I can show you.” The keeper led them up the main lane for a ways, before stopping in front of a small home. Barely more than a shack, it was crudely fashioned, and was in ill repair.
“Go back to your inn, commoner”, one of the other hooded figures snapped. The keeper retreated back down to his lodge, not daring a backwards glance.
The three men stared at the house in silence for a time. The other two looked the the gray eyed man, who nodded silently to them and strode forth to the doorway. They understood the wordless command, and stood their ground on the road, waiting for their companion to complete what he had traveled so far to do. The gray eyed man pushed open the door, and disappeared inside.
Inside sat a thin man, haggard and bald. He sat up straight, and summoned the most determined look he could as he looked at the man who had invaded his home.
“I’ve been searching you for some time, Decker. You can not have thought you could evade me forever”, the gray eyed man’s voice remained as cold and empty as before.
“I always knew, Jaren. I never thought I would escape you”, Decker could not look into Jaren’s face, dropping his gaze to the floor. “But killing me will bring you no peace. It will not bring her back, and she wouldn’t want this.”
“Regardless, I am here. There is no peace for me anymore. The two of you took that from me”, Jaren stated, ever calmly.
Decker lunged forward, brandishing a short blade he pulled from behind. Jaren caught his sword arm by the wrist, stopping it mid swing. His face curled with anger as he stared into Decker’s eyes, inches from his own. In a single movement, Jaren stripped the blade from his opponent’s hand and kicked him back into the wall. Dust fell from the ceiling as the shack shuddered under the impact, and Decker coughed the breath out of his lungs. Before he could gasp another in, Jaren plunged the taken blade forth, spearing Decker through the shoulder, pinning him upright against the wall.
Jaren stepped back and stared at the man bleeding before him. The anger had left his face, replaced with the emptiness of before. Decker choked on fresh tears, and Jaren pondered if they were from his wound, or a deeper pain.
“All I did was love her! I loved her and she loved me!” Decker screamed through his tears.
“You don’t know what love is, and neither did she.” Jaren unsheathed his longsword slowly, letting the scabbard scratch dramatically against the blade.
“This serves no purpose! She is gone, and that is your fault! You should have let us be, you cou-” Jaren slashed the sword tip across Decker’s throat, what words remained came out only as a gurgle, a splutter of air and blood. Jaren stood in silence before the dying man. Waiting for the end, he was patient until all life had left, then turned and exited the hovel.
Jaren’s companions fell in stride behind him as he strode back toward the inn. They stayed a pace behind him, glancing between themselves with unhidden curiosity. Upon reaching the horses, Jaren quickly mounted and reined his steed around to leave the village.
“Is it over? She is avenged?” One of the men asked as he climbed upon his own mount.
“This was not vengeance. This was not wrath. What I did today was a mercy for a pitiful soul.” Snow began to fall, slow and softly as he spoke. Jaren looked up, letting it fall upon his face. The cold was soothing, it echoed all he knew.
They spoke no more as they rode away.
The frozen earth crunched noisily under the horses’ hooves as they rode to the center of town. The largest building in town was the inn, and there the men dismounted and entered, walking tall and with purpose. Their boots sounded heavily on the wooden floors of the hall as they strode toward the keeper. The keeper was a small man, standing barely to the shoulders of the hooded men, and as they neared he seemed to shrink even further.
The tallest of the hooded men removed his cover, revealing his stern, weathered face. His eyes, gray as the churning seas, captivated the keeper, and as he stared back into them, he felt a powerful mixture of sorrow and fear.
“I am looking for the man named Decker”, they gray eyed man stated. The keeper stood, still transfixed under this stranger’s gaze for several seconds before responding.
“Decker? The painter?”
“Yes, that is the man I seek.”
“What do you want with him?”
“That is my business”, they gray eyed man’s words were calm, but still sent shivers of terror down the keepers spine.
“I-I... I can show you.” The keeper led them up the main lane for a ways, before stopping in front of a small home. Barely more than a shack, it was crudely fashioned, and was in ill repair.
“Go back to your inn, commoner”, one of the other hooded figures snapped. The keeper retreated back down to his lodge, not daring a backwards glance.
The three men stared at the house in silence for a time. The other two looked the the gray eyed man, who nodded silently to them and strode forth to the doorway. They understood the wordless command, and stood their ground on the road, waiting for their companion to complete what he had traveled so far to do. The gray eyed man pushed open the door, and disappeared inside.
Inside sat a thin man, haggard and bald. He sat up straight, and summoned the most determined look he could as he looked at the man who had invaded his home.
“I’ve been searching you for some time, Decker. You can not have thought you could evade me forever”, the gray eyed man’s voice remained as cold and empty as before.
“I always knew, Jaren. I never thought I would escape you”, Decker could not look into Jaren’s face, dropping his gaze to the floor. “But killing me will bring you no peace. It will not bring her back, and she wouldn’t want this.”
“Regardless, I am here. There is no peace for me anymore. The two of you took that from me”, Jaren stated, ever calmly.
Decker lunged forward, brandishing a short blade he pulled from behind. Jaren caught his sword arm by the wrist, stopping it mid swing. His face curled with anger as he stared into Decker’s eyes, inches from his own. In a single movement, Jaren stripped the blade from his opponent’s hand and kicked him back into the wall. Dust fell from the ceiling as the shack shuddered under the impact, and Decker coughed the breath out of his lungs. Before he could gasp another in, Jaren plunged the taken blade forth, spearing Decker through the shoulder, pinning him upright against the wall.
Jaren stepped back and stared at the man bleeding before him. The anger had left his face, replaced with the emptiness of before. Decker choked on fresh tears, and Jaren pondered if they were from his wound, or a deeper pain.
“All I did was love her! I loved her and she loved me!” Decker screamed through his tears.
“You don’t know what love is, and neither did she.” Jaren unsheathed his longsword slowly, letting the scabbard scratch dramatically against the blade.
“This serves no purpose! She is gone, and that is your fault! You should have let us be, you cou-” Jaren slashed the sword tip across Decker’s throat, what words remained came out only as a gurgle, a splutter of air and blood. Jaren stood in silence before the dying man. Waiting for the end, he was patient until all life had left, then turned and exited the hovel.
Jaren’s companions fell in stride behind him as he strode back toward the inn. They stayed a pace behind him, glancing between themselves with unhidden curiosity. Upon reaching the horses, Jaren quickly mounted and reined his steed around to leave the village.
“Is it over? She is avenged?” One of the men asked as he climbed upon his own mount.
“This was not vengeance. This was not wrath. What I did today was a mercy for a pitiful soul.” Snow began to fall, slow and softly as he spoke. Jaren looked up, letting it fall upon his face. The cold was soothing, it echoed all he knew.
They spoke no more as they rode away.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Who I Keep
There is no worse feeling that I have ever experienced than hating yourself for who you love. Knowing that all the beauty of her, all that made you fall in love, has been tarnished or destroyed. An unrecognizable person stands before of you, a hideous deformity, twisted and demented, yet still you love. There remains a light of hope, just a dream, a horrific nightmare from which you will wake to the beauty of the past.
Every morning a disappointment, a reminder that it is real. A realization of the truth, that the love is gone, that it was perhaps never real. Your home is now a prison, you become a captive of all those things that remind you of her. Sadly, few things in this world aren’t a reminder. A joke, a shirt, a restaurant, a dear friend, all such things are imprinted with memories. Wonderful moments tarnished by circumstance. Years spent building, and now, you just want to set it all aflame, and bask in a final moment of warmth before it is cold, dead wreckage forever.
A wound begins to close, a scar forms. More real than any marring of flesh, damage that cannot be avoided, merely adapted to. You try and find pride in this scar, wear it as a badge of what you gave, of how hard you tried in the face of indifference. Your scars will not weigh you down as much as hers. She will awaken to the realities of life, and humanity. She will feel the shame and remorse one day, and if she doesn’t, count yourself lucky that you are free of such a beast, absent of good and value.
Try and focus on the beauty that was. Separate it from her, refine it down to what made you love, and better know yourself. Learn to see it in its most base and true forms. Learn to trust yourself, and what you love and value. Never compromise in what you want. Don’t settle for perverted versions of what you seek.
Know that if you struggle as I have with such feelings, there is another like you. I hold to love, and share it with you. I respect your fight, and I will hold you when you cannot grapple with the darkness any longer. To the honest, the true, the lovers, the dreamers, I will love and keep you.
Every morning a disappointment, a reminder that it is real. A realization of the truth, that the love is gone, that it was perhaps never real. Your home is now a prison, you become a captive of all those things that remind you of her. Sadly, few things in this world aren’t a reminder. A joke, a shirt, a restaurant, a dear friend, all such things are imprinted with memories. Wonderful moments tarnished by circumstance. Years spent building, and now, you just want to set it all aflame, and bask in a final moment of warmth before it is cold, dead wreckage forever.
A wound begins to close, a scar forms. More real than any marring of flesh, damage that cannot be avoided, merely adapted to. You try and find pride in this scar, wear it as a badge of what you gave, of how hard you tried in the face of indifference. Your scars will not weigh you down as much as hers. She will awaken to the realities of life, and humanity. She will feel the shame and remorse one day, and if she doesn’t, count yourself lucky that you are free of such a beast, absent of good and value.
Try and focus on the beauty that was. Separate it from her, refine it down to what made you love, and better know yourself. Learn to see it in its most base and true forms. Learn to trust yourself, and what you love and value. Never compromise in what you want. Don’t settle for perverted versions of what you seek.
Know that if you struggle as I have with such feelings, there is another like you. I hold to love, and share it with you. I respect your fight, and I will hold you when you cannot grapple with the darkness any longer. To the honest, the true, the lovers, the dreamers, I will love and keep you.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Waking Up to Life
Standing on my balcony, half way through my cigarette, I realized something. Something powerful, strong enough to cause change and shape in my life. I am no longer afraid.
I was afraid to lose someone I loved who did not love me. I was afraid of being alone. I was afraid that in the solitude I would completely disappear. To each of these fears, an opposition has surged up in me, and I see now that I am excited to find someone who loves me, I am in no way alone, and in the darkest nights and loneliest moments I am more sure of who I am than I ever was by her side.
It is sad to think of someone’s love as poison, a toxin that kept me dazed and still, but with it now out of my body I feel free, unshackled and unlimited. As the numbness fades from my limbs, I know you were not the sole beauty in my life. Rather, I have been surrounded by it for so long and neglected to see it. The mischievous flicker in a friend’s eye, the quirky laugh of a stranger on the street, the warmth of someone’s arms embracing me, these are the things I shut out, but I should have celebrated every day. I let myself be isolated in effort to be nearer to another, and as I write it I snicker at the absurdity of this action.
Life is bold, bright and beautiful. Life is cold, dark and scary. Life is a whirlpool of events and emotions, and I want to bear witness, to experience it all. I might not be able to understand it all, or know why any of it is happening, but I will work and fight everyday to see and know as much as I can. This is the world I live in, and there is no escape. Escape is the last thing I want now. Give me life, world. Good, bad, love, hurt, birth, death, lust, loneliness. I will live as only I can. I will see and feel what cannot be told.
Some will laugh, some will cry, but this is what I want in my life, and only I can know what is right for me. This is what I was meant for, and you will just have to take my word for it.
I was afraid to lose someone I loved who did not love me. I was afraid of being alone. I was afraid that in the solitude I would completely disappear. To each of these fears, an opposition has surged up in me, and I see now that I am excited to find someone who loves me, I am in no way alone, and in the darkest nights and loneliest moments I am more sure of who I am than I ever was by her side.
It is sad to think of someone’s love as poison, a toxin that kept me dazed and still, but with it now out of my body I feel free, unshackled and unlimited. As the numbness fades from my limbs, I know you were not the sole beauty in my life. Rather, I have been surrounded by it for so long and neglected to see it. The mischievous flicker in a friend’s eye, the quirky laugh of a stranger on the street, the warmth of someone’s arms embracing me, these are the things I shut out, but I should have celebrated every day. I let myself be isolated in effort to be nearer to another, and as I write it I snicker at the absurdity of this action.
Life is bold, bright and beautiful. Life is cold, dark and scary. Life is a whirlpool of events and emotions, and I want to bear witness, to experience it all. I might not be able to understand it all, or know why any of it is happening, but I will work and fight everyday to see and know as much as I can. This is the world I live in, and there is no escape. Escape is the last thing I want now. Give me life, world. Good, bad, love, hurt, birth, death, lust, loneliness. I will live as only I can. I will see and feel what cannot be told.
Some will laugh, some will cry, but this is what I want in my life, and only I can know what is right for me. This is what I was meant for, and you will just have to take my word for it.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Perfection
What is worth pursuing? So many people focus on a single dedication, be it beauty, intellect, social or emotional pursuits. We strive to be the best in our chosen area, and we forget all others. Would it not be best to pursue all, even if you were never the best? To be whole, rather than radiant in such a one dimensional way.
We place these passions at war with each other. We show beautiful people on television who are cold and lack empathy. Intellectuals mock those who obsess over fashion and style. Even the socialites, focused on building more and more human connections, undermine emotional depth and philosophical pursuits.
Why is it, that we cannot accept our own gifts and strengths without trying to cut down others? Why must we so willingly place ourselves in the boxes society has created? I want all these things for myself, and is that really wrong?
I want to be a handsome man, I like to be complimented and desired. I need to engage my mind, push myself to mentally achieve, and expand. I want to be cared for as a person, to be known by others, and to know them as well. I long to be at peace, to find calm and ease my heart. Is it so wrong to want all these things? Is it just an impossible task, and so we create rules and rivalries to discourage others from attempting the impossible? Or is it that it is just so hard, that we find it easier to discredit that which doesn’t come easy for us, so we never feel like we are missing out on the better life we could have.
I want to fight and try for myself. I need to struggle and strive to be as perfect as I can be, for me. I may never find someone who loves me for me, or sees me as the perfect man, but what am I saying to myself if I don’t try to be that for myself everyday.
Absent of you or anyone else, I need to be me. Regardless of all else, I must become all the good I long to see, if only to show myself it exists.
We place these passions at war with each other. We show beautiful people on television who are cold and lack empathy. Intellectuals mock those who obsess over fashion and style. Even the socialites, focused on building more and more human connections, undermine emotional depth and philosophical pursuits.
Why is it, that we cannot accept our own gifts and strengths without trying to cut down others? Why must we so willingly place ourselves in the boxes society has created? I want all these things for myself, and is that really wrong?
I want to be a handsome man, I like to be complimented and desired. I need to engage my mind, push myself to mentally achieve, and expand. I want to be cared for as a person, to be known by others, and to know them as well. I long to be at peace, to find calm and ease my heart. Is it so wrong to want all these things? Is it just an impossible task, and so we create rules and rivalries to discourage others from attempting the impossible? Or is it that it is just so hard, that we find it easier to discredit that which doesn’t come easy for us, so we never feel like we are missing out on the better life we could have.
I want to fight and try for myself. I need to struggle and strive to be as perfect as I can be, for me. I may never find someone who loves me for me, or sees me as the perfect man, but what am I saying to myself if I don’t try to be that for myself everyday.
Absent of you or anyone else, I need to be me. Regardless of all else, I must become all the good I long to see, if only to show myself it exists.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Roman Candle
A spark ignites you. Fuse burning, I hold you in my hand with anticipation. A burst of color, flame and light explode from you. I feel powerful, as if the beauty you emit is an extension of me. Blaze after blaze, I feel responsible for each one, and in the glow of your passionate outburst, I feel happy.
Yet, suddenly as they began, they cease. I look down at you, willing just one more expression out of you. But you grow cold and silent, a husk of what was, with only a trace of smoke to tell the tale of when you once dazzled those around you.
Yet, suddenly as they began, they cease. I look down at you, willing just one more expression out of you. But you grow cold and silent, a husk of what was, with only a trace of smoke to tell the tale of when you once dazzled those around you.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
The Longest Night
What to feel? Should I feel more now than I do? I think that I should, but hollowness prevails, my wall is up, and I am truly afraid to let it down.
You return, with a desire to try, a want to see this through. Bitterness soaks through me, and I marinate in it. Why now, why so late, why after all this time and damage? You pushed to the very brink, the the final moment of redemption, tempting fate and patience. It will never be harder than now, the test will never be greater. I try and prepare myself, but part of me laughs at this internal pep talk. How can you prepare for this?
I do still feel strong, I know what I want, what I need, and who I am now fighting to be. I know you are in this moment not that, but I know you could be. Will you succeed? Will you fight for yourself and me, harder than you fought to break it? The idea of this struggle pales to reality. A seemingly impossible task, but one necessary for growth, redemption, and forgiveness. I feel I ought to do more, that I should have something more than acceptance to arm you with, but it is all I have now.
I accept you, what you have done, the reality of our situation, and welcome you home. It will be your actions and growth that determine if I can ever forgive, trust, or feel affection for you again. I feel as if I finished a long, painful wait, only to discover I was waiting for a longer one. Is what I am waiting for worth it, I certainly believe so; but it is not a wait for you. It is a fight, a battle of greater immensity than you have ever been willing to face before.
I wish I could know, and tell you it will succeed. For you now, I know importance is in this new willingness to fight. To finally stand up and say “I want better, I deserve it”. I can hope for your victory, I can comfort, and be here, but beyond that, I am powerless. This war that rages is yours alone. An internal battle for your heart, soul and peace. If you can win, you will be the beauty I have always seen, and I will celebrate. Should you fail, it will be a new heartbreak, a darkening of good, a candle going out in the night.
So how do I prepare? How do I act and feel in this? You bring with you a feeling of loss, of panic and anxiety. I will cling to strength I have found, to passion I am fostering, and hope we can weather your storm together.
You return, with a desire to try, a want to see this through. Bitterness soaks through me, and I marinate in it. Why now, why so late, why after all this time and damage? You pushed to the very brink, the the final moment of redemption, tempting fate and patience. It will never be harder than now, the test will never be greater. I try and prepare myself, but part of me laughs at this internal pep talk. How can you prepare for this?
I do still feel strong, I know what I want, what I need, and who I am now fighting to be. I know you are in this moment not that, but I know you could be. Will you succeed? Will you fight for yourself and me, harder than you fought to break it? The idea of this struggle pales to reality. A seemingly impossible task, but one necessary for growth, redemption, and forgiveness. I feel I ought to do more, that I should have something more than acceptance to arm you with, but it is all I have now.
I accept you, what you have done, the reality of our situation, and welcome you home. It will be your actions and growth that determine if I can ever forgive, trust, or feel affection for you again. I feel as if I finished a long, painful wait, only to discover I was waiting for a longer one. Is what I am waiting for worth it, I certainly believe so; but it is not a wait for you. It is a fight, a battle of greater immensity than you have ever been willing to face before.
I wish I could know, and tell you it will succeed. For you now, I know importance is in this new willingness to fight. To finally stand up and say “I want better, I deserve it”. I can hope for your victory, I can comfort, and be here, but beyond that, I am powerless. This war that rages is yours alone. An internal battle for your heart, soul and peace. If you can win, you will be the beauty I have always seen, and I will celebrate. Should you fail, it will be a new heartbreak, a darkening of good, a candle going out in the night.
So how do I prepare? How do I act and feel in this? You bring with you a feeling of loss, of panic and anxiety. I will cling to strength I have found, to passion I am fostering, and hope we can weather your storm together.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)