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.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
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.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
A Coming Morn
A day is coming that I won’t wake to pangs for you. A day approaches in which I won’t think of you, what you did, what you are doing. Everything that happened was your choice, was thought out and planned. Every moment affection for you dies, each passing second I grow stronger.
Such strength, surprising might, have I found. A blossoming of social and emotional maturity I didn’t know I had. People see it, they tell me they are proud, people I barely knew before. I see a new life forming before me, and it is appealing, full of joy, success, and the love you never gave me.
Still, I wonder of you, and your life. I try and see a future for you not riddled with pain, with a lasting misery, but I cannot. Your darkness comes from within. It is a force you are unwilling to fight, a choice you are not likely to make. For some reason you refuse to forge a better path for yourself, and it is why I finally let go. I refuse to watch all the good become caked in grim and filth until it is unrecognizable. I will try and remember you as you could have been, if you did as you should have.
For me, I am so excited to explore this new comfort with myself. I will fight and earn the respect denied me, I will strive to deserve the passion you withheld. I will be amazing, because I will it.
Will, such an important word that is outside your vocabulary. So often you say “can’t” when you won’t. A mistake, a self defeating thought that has been burned in my brain so fiercely I will never forget, ensuring I will never go there myself.
Rise above, young man. Steel yourself against the overflowing hatred of others, and radiate the love in you that attracted her in the beginning. No more leeches, who take your strength and give you nothing back. No more erasing yourself for anyone, no matter their potential. Your brightness should amplify others, not be sacrificed for them.
Lead, blaze the path others cannot see, and become a beacon in the night for all those who are struggling to find their own beauty. Never again accept destruction into your heart. Never again compromise anything you feel is securely right or true.
Find the truth in you, and always let your words reflect your actions and heart.
Such strength, surprising might, have I found. A blossoming of social and emotional maturity I didn’t know I had. People see it, they tell me they are proud, people I barely knew before. I see a new life forming before me, and it is appealing, full of joy, success, and the love you never gave me.
Still, I wonder of you, and your life. I try and see a future for you not riddled with pain, with a lasting misery, but I cannot. Your darkness comes from within. It is a force you are unwilling to fight, a choice you are not likely to make. For some reason you refuse to forge a better path for yourself, and it is why I finally let go. I refuse to watch all the good become caked in grim and filth until it is unrecognizable. I will try and remember you as you could have been, if you did as you should have.
For me, I am so excited to explore this new comfort with myself. I will fight and earn the respect denied me, I will strive to deserve the passion you withheld. I will be amazing, because I will it.
Will, such an important word that is outside your vocabulary. So often you say “can’t” when you won’t. A mistake, a self defeating thought that has been burned in my brain so fiercely I will never forget, ensuring I will never go there myself.
Rise above, young man. Steel yourself against the overflowing hatred of others, and radiate the love in you that attracted her in the beginning. No more leeches, who take your strength and give you nothing back. No more erasing yourself for anyone, no matter their potential. Your brightness should amplify others, not be sacrificed for them.
Lead, blaze the path others cannot see, and become a beacon in the night for all those who are struggling to find their own beauty. Never again accept destruction into your heart. Never again compromise anything you feel is securely right or true.
Find the truth in you, and always let your words reflect your actions and heart.
Friday, November 25, 2011
A Knight's Vindication part i
Rain poured on Jaren’s head. The torrent was cold and heavy, and his head hung under the pressure. He stared at the wooden platform on which he stood. The water splashed against it, then rushed in any direction in it’s mad rush to reach the ground.
Shaking the rain from his hair, Jaren looked up into the downpour. The frigid drop stung his face and eyes, but as he maintained his resilient gaze, he felt a strange calm. A great darkness raged above him, but he stood in bold defiance, unflinching to its blows. As the wind whipped overheard, he watched the rain coil and snap like a sea of serpents, and he felt no fear. His heart was cold and numb as his face, nothing could awaken him from his inner death.
A man shouted, and Jaren dully rolled his head to watch him. It was the Magistrate, speaking to the crowd below. His voice was angry and intense, fists clenched and shaking against the rain. Jaren struggled to focus, to hear what was being spoken.
“...for crimes of impurity, and adultery against a knight of the court! Such action is punishable by death, to be carried out by the sword immediately!”
The Magistrate beckoned to the side of the platform, and a woman was dragged forth by two soldiers. She was beautiful, despite her torn clothing and bruised features. Rain soaked through her raven hair and into her robes, which in turn clung to her body, exposing her desirable figure. Jaren looked her up and down, and when his eyes settled on her face, he realized she was staring back into his.
“Do you have any final words, whore?” The Magistrates voice spat hatred and resentment, but the woman straightened herself in response. One guard pushed her forth on the platform. She stood on the edge of the deck, staring out at the mass, deafened by their insults and jeers. Jaren couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears on her face.
She suddenly turned and ran for him. Her body slammed against his, her arms wrapping tightly over his shoulders, she pulled her face to his ear.
“I am so sorry, Jaren. I love you, I have always loved you. I don’t know what I have done, forgive me.” The guards had grabbed her, attempting to rip her off of him. She clung and clawed, trying to pull herself back to him, but her strength failed her, and she stared back at him as they hauled her to the execution block.
“Maddy,” Jaren whispered his wife’s name as he stared back into her eyes. A surge of heat pulsed in his body, and his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
They turned her around and pressed her head against the block. Leather cords were wrapped around her wrists and neck, holding her down. Her body twisted and shook in futile attempts to return to her husband’s side. The executioner stepped forth, sword drawn.
“JAREN! I LOVE YOU! FORGIVE ME, I LO-” her scream ended as sword met flesh.
“MADDY!” Jaren’s face burned as the scream rung in his ears. It took him several moments to realize the voice was his. Like ice against sudden heat, he felt his insides snapping and shattering, and he fell forward, collapsing onto the boards.
He lifted his face, resting his chin against the planks beneath him. In front of him lay his wife’s head, free of her body, staring again back at him. He looked into her now lifeless eye, choking on a sob that had been seeking escape for days. He shuddered as it violently freed itself.
Within a moment, it was gone, and he spat bile from his mouth as he brought himself to his knees. Looking again to his wife, his face reflected the dead calm of hers.
“I forgive you. I still love you.”
Shaking the rain from his hair, Jaren looked up into the downpour. The frigid drop stung his face and eyes, but as he maintained his resilient gaze, he felt a strange calm. A great darkness raged above him, but he stood in bold defiance, unflinching to its blows. As the wind whipped overheard, he watched the rain coil and snap like a sea of serpents, and he felt no fear. His heart was cold and numb as his face, nothing could awaken him from his inner death.
A man shouted, and Jaren dully rolled his head to watch him. It was the Magistrate, speaking to the crowd below. His voice was angry and intense, fists clenched and shaking against the rain. Jaren struggled to focus, to hear what was being spoken.
“...for crimes of impurity, and adultery against a knight of the court! Such action is punishable by death, to be carried out by the sword immediately!”
The Magistrate beckoned to the side of the platform, and a woman was dragged forth by two soldiers. She was beautiful, despite her torn clothing and bruised features. Rain soaked through her raven hair and into her robes, which in turn clung to her body, exposing her desirable figure. Jaren looked her up and down, and when his eyes settled on her face, he realized she was staring back into his.
“Do you have any final words, whore?” The Magistrates voice spat hatred and resentment, but the woman straightened herself in response. One guard pushed her forth on the platform. She stood on the edge of the deck, staring out at the mass, deafened by their insults and jeers. Jaren couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears on her face.
She suddenly turned and ran for him. Her body slammed against his, her arms wrapping tightly over his shoulders, she pulled her face to his ear.
“I am so sorry, Jaren. I love you, I have always loved you. I don’t know what I have done, forgive me.” The guards had grabbed her, attempting to rip her off of him. She clung and clawed, trying to pull herself back to him, but her strength failed her, and she stared back at him as they hauled her to the execution block.
“Maddy,” Jaren whispered his wife’s name as he stared back into her eyes. A surge of heat pulsed in his body, and his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
They turned her around and pressed her head against the block. Leather cords were wrapped around her wrists and neck, holding her down. Her body twisted and shook in futile attempts to return to her husband’s side. The executioner stepped forth, sword drawn.
“JAREN! I LOVE YOU! FORGIVE ME, I LO-” her scream ended as sword met flesh.
“MADDY!” Jaren’s face burned as the scream rung in his ears. It took him several moments to realize the voice was his. Like ice against sudden heat, he felt his insides snapping and shattering, and he fell forward, collapsing onto the boards.
He lifted his face, resting his chin against the planks beneath him. In front of him lay his wife’s head, free of her body, staring again back at him. He looked into her now lifeless eye, choking on a sob that had been seeking escape for days. He shuddered as it violently freed itself.
Within a moment, it was gone, and he spat bile from his mouth as he brought himself to his knees. Looking again to his wife, his face reflected the dead calm of hers.
“I forgive you. I still love you.”
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