In My Time of Dying

I’d like to take this opportunity to really address yet another human emotion and circumstance which has been plaguing me for an annoying amount of time. I say annoying simply out of protest to how difficult of a situation it is, but the reality of the matter is that I am simply too afraid to give it the time it absolutely deserves. 

My father is a hard working man. Kind and gentle, he is undoubtedly the most selfless human being that I know, with the exception of my mother. Giving up nearly everything for family, there are few things that are more profound in this life. One day after having sat down and reviewed how much of an adult I am, we came upon the discussion of greatness and success. It was more of an unwarranted conversation if I’m honest and was a direction that I had absolutely no intention on taking, but I think that in a strange and twisted way his words were more powerful than I credit them with being. 

You see, for those that are designed to pursue a larger and more existential being in this life, there are certain traits. We hear these almost daily: communication skills, leadership, confidence blah blah blah…Yes I do believe that it is good for a child to accept these values as fact, I also believe in reality and the honest approach to what has got to be the hardest lifestyle a person can strive for: GREATNESS. 

It’s intangible, which is probably what throws me for a loop. I’m a very literal person and I like to know what’s in front of me simply so that I can make use of my hands who lay awkwardly at my side most of the time. I’m talking about a pursuit and a process, and what most people don’t tell you in stories and inspirational tales is of the massive and crossroad sacrifices that these successful individuals make. I’m not saying that I’ve never had to make a tough decision before, but when it involves a trial of emotion or logic, it seems as though the poles have reversed and time stops because there is almost literally a gaping hole in what you thought was your heart. And it hurts, ALOT.

Sacrifice for these leaders and the pursuit of something better is a path of pain and confusion, and what is remarkable about these individuals is the acceptance of this path. I find it incredible that though we face adversity and tribulation we are weirdly ok with it, it’s almost as though this pain that we feel and the emptiness that we seem to carry with us is just another part of it all. Cognitively I cannot wrap my head around it and yet I feel an innate understanding as though this is how it is supposed to be.

So what do you do in the blatant face of something as difficult as a decision? How do you approach something like this? Do you stay up late at night and stress? Do you direct you attention to the Devils alcohol and self depreciation to ease the pain of making that choice? Do you blame others for the difficulty? If you’ve answered yes to any of those, then I am very sorry to inform you that it seems as though this whole ‘making hard decisions is hard because it’s not easy’ thing isn’t for you; would you kindly move a foot to the left so that the others can move past? 

Achieving this greatness and the success that we all want comes with a price, and it is an unfortunate lesson that I as a young man and human being in general, am starting to learn. This choice seems evil, it seems to polarize your thought process either towards emotional wellness or the fulfillment of a dream; and take it from me my friends, neither will ever be complete unless you admit to yourself what you must do. I think that the problem sometimes with people, especially recent college graduates, is that we tend to be obsessed about the things that we’ll eventually have and the lifestyle that we see through media and print. A textbook cannot teach you how to become great, this is something that comes from within and I am honestly shocked I never had a single teacher or professor harp on the fact that nothing in this life that is worth it will ever be easy. Your career and life as a whole comes in waves where most are bigger than the others, but it is those that can understand that each crest serves a purpose. It isn’t easy to detach yourself from the situation and realize that this trial will always come back  in a different form. They never fully disappear, but change, as you hopefully would have by their next appearance. Only then will you achieve happiness, only then can you see through the darkness, only then will you be ready for greatness.

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Chanelle

Dear,

It seems like there are so few moments that we can actually feel and I’m sure that you already knew that. I’ve attempted to really put my digits over what you said and thought I am traditionally good at assembling some idea as to what you are saying and conveying, I am at a complete loss of words. You see I pay attention and I’ve been taking notes as I should, but for a reason that I cannot define you’ve alluded me; for a reason that I cannot define. I’ve traveled across states and lines and learned geometry over again as if to think that would help, but the truth is: it never did. 

                                                                    >Honestly I didn’t expect it to.

If I were really able to understand where you came from, I’d have a purpose, I’d have a meaning, I would have written the dictionary from which you stand across that wooden table - fingers holding a bitter wine far from what you’re used to. Maybe you say, isn’t good enough, it isn’t satisfactory, it isn’t where you were meant to be, but you see my dear, this is what I have been after and you will not help me. 

I really wish that you would, but I digress and hope that my metaphors and meaningless sweat drips present even the slightest bit of urgency. And it’s not like I haven’t seen it all before because believe me I have, but if you could write it simply and explain it complex just a few times maybe they too would see.

You don’t have to hide anymore from them, I’ve held you hear long enough so that the winds change direction and the phone signals fade. I’ve given you mostly what you desire, I had to leave a few things out…I’m sure you understand and if you don’t, you will. Don’t worry. I’ve designed it that way in bed time stories and the vitamins you swallow in the morning…They’re reinforced with tomorrow which is exactly what I promise to bring you.

I’ll finish and I will leave you to your studies, but I need you to understand the vastness that is my perception of this vagabond you present. I’ll forget the grammar, you just bring a jerk of a smile and our barter will be acceptable in most places with half a brain and two cents for a tip. It has been quite a journey up until this point as things haven’t really given me a reason to complain so you’re in no panic to leave, but I’ve encouraged you in the past to seize the way you dance alone in the moonlight and embrace the sound of the front doors opening and closing again. They’re beckoning for you and it’s almost offensive that it hasn’t hit you yet that THEY NEED YOU. It would almost be a disservice to choose anything but a life built around ancient poems, but they likely wouldn’t know any of them anyways…

It’s up to you really, I can no longer pretend like I haven’t tried because I have, and that is one thing you need to grasp. The carpets and marble last only a short time, but that confidence I feel for you and the bliss of a life you lead will endure unless you wake up feeling as though this life is only part of theirs.

In my deepest regards,

Someone

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I Think I Miss You…

=> Distance does a number on the heart and even more so on the will to carry on, but I think that I am a firm supporter in hope; though it may be easily lost. Having decided to sit back next to myself for a day I have come to realize that for all of my imperfections and discreet bugs, I miss it. I mean you, I’m sorry. You haven’t met me yet, though I’m hoping you’ll remember the moment just like I do after we leave each other. For everything that you are and will be, I will be there much like your guiding hand in those times when the chair just isn’t enough to hold your sadness or pain. I guess that dreaming in this way gets you into trouble especially if you believe you are living only for a moment, but that has never stopped me from wondering what was next or when I would embarrass myself enough to trip. I’ve done this many times all around and if there’s anything that I’ve learned is that each time isn’t like the previous if only for the shoes upon my feet. That look I receive and the warmness you radiate make me forget that this ever existed and that I could continue to fall only to get picked back up. I’ve never been able to describe this pit that has manifested itself upon my very heart until only recently and I truly believe that it can only be explained as a longing or impatience to wait for change. Each experience remains a captured moment in time as a gift that is placed around the inside of your heart, creating a warm flow of feeling throughout you, so that the next time a moment happens, another gift is added; rather stacked. It is because of this stacking nature that they are naturally prone to collapse thus it hurts. Not only does the impact cause pain, but the moments you’ve held so dear are no longer there. But there is no fear to be had for gifts are gifts for a reason and the seeds that we plant become evidence of a better tomorrow…All the same though despite my ridiculous attempt at creating a definition for that pit, I still miss you, though I haven’t met you yet…Those moments will happen and until then the stage is yours for the taking.

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A Child Named Mystery

I guess for most of my life I’ve considered myself a dreamer. For a a long time I think that it was something that I tried to hide and I could never really tell you why I did so, but only that I thought I had to. You see, whenever an opportunity seemed to present itself after a longstanding tradition of effortlessly progressing through difficulty, I failed to act. Not out of fear or discomfort, but a deep and worsening concern that the result might fall short of what I expect. Since then, friends and family have appropriately named me Mystery, why I will never know, but I suppose that I will let it slide for my audience here and henceforth. 

Life as I know it is often comprised of the smaller things, pieces of lifeless movement frozen throughout the seams of time whose only purpose is to represent only a moments glance and nothing more. Now I know, I know, this cannot truly be the manner in which I view things and it certainly cannot be in anyway related to how I interact with the world around me, but I guess instead of explaining I’ll just hide behind my hat and pretend I smoke cigarettes, because we all know that I surely do not. I wake up each day anticipating the tomorrow I constantly dream about and fall asleep knowing that this day I foresee will eventually come to pass. Not knowing how to comprehend and deal with my own feelings, I take a step and minute back to think fully knowing that I might once again fall asleep on my left side wishing that I hadn’t. I guess I never thought of trying, I guess that it was just too much. Perhaps there is a poet locked inside a windowless room, gasping for a breath of creative intelligence somewhere to help me make up my mind as to where I need to be. If you believe in that type of thing. For right now, I’ll leave things just as I always do once I build an idea and present it to my crowd: Incomplete.

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Slow Dance (I Suppose That’s Optional)

She ties her ballet shoes, she’s walking towards center stage. She’s nervous and yet calm, all too anxious as today’s breakfast has forced the sweat between her fingers to form nerve endings. Her legs ride smooth as powerful and graceful roots preparing to hold the gift of artistic movement about to glide across the glossed pine that lay, frozen beneath her toes. Her hair, done up with the utmost perfection. Silver and green streaks parallel her natural born blond creating foundations for the performance enhancement. Shades of green and red glitter line her eye lids, her skin pale, untouched from today’s sun. Yes she is ready, at least that is what her teacher keeps telling her parents. They believe her naturally as any consumer endows trust into the ‘experts’ who harbor the ability to convince. Today our little dancer moves to a mixture of piano, drowned in emotional ties weighed down with regret. The music tells a tale of heartache, and as such, the dancer reflects its detrimental nature. She moves left and she moves right, her feet moving in tandem with her arms extended just beyond her forehead. Slowly her teacher whispers, ever so slowly please, your parents are watching. She’s got a right to lose you know, she’s is still young and capable of changing her course. The spotlight drops to center again after briefly revealing her audience as the small dancer flows effortlessly across the plane. You know she’s practiced, she’s well mannered and professionally built. She doesn’t realize it now, but she will in time as this slow dance she shares with her parents and many others, brought tears to those lucky enough to sit in the far back.

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Monroe

This time children, things are different, they haven’t been the same since that night. Now I am sure that you are less than amused that I wouldn’t tell you quite what happened, but I am afraid that I do not have the strength to repeat any of the personal happenings. Although what I will say is I left smiling, first time in a while for me. I guess out of the kindness of my heart I’ll fill you in, just as long as you swear on your little sisters innocence not to spread them to the others at school. You promise? Alright, thanks Monroe, you were always an amazing friend of mine it’s a same that we’ve been separated by this insurmountable distance, I wish visiting hours were clearly more extended than they seem to be. Simply a tease and nothing more I suppose, but that will have to do for now.

Awhile ago as you know I took her out to holiday, a holiday that I had planned in my agenda repeatedly since around the fifth grade. Now typically I understand that our gender stereotypes bar us to certain playing fields, but yes, I too dreamed of finding that one person, organism, fellow human, that somehow made it all come together. I was afraid for a while that I would never find such an imaginary figure, after all I seem to sleep more than wake, so much of what I understand of my surroundings is seemingly not really there. But she, Monroe, was. I guess I never really grasped the idea that she was the reason my toes felt warm all the time, or that she was at fault for the pounding of my heart as we stood side by side in line at the market. It appeared to be the strangest phenomenon that I personally had ever experienced; funny thing is, I was alright with it. Normally I turn away from these types of oddities, I usually cannot see myself becoming involved or overly exerting myself to motivate that small section of my heart that wants to learn more. I’m not a loner Monroe, trust me on this fact, I just would rather spare the heartache afterwards because isn’t that what it really is? I see time and time again that we cannot be perfect, films are films, they aren’t real and never will be. They exist solely to eliminate the terrible reality that we live each day, and replace it with images of what we wish life could be. As such, I withold my option to see others in a romantic way, but she…she somehow made me fall to my knees and to this day my friend, I cannot accurately describe how weak I felt. Really weak and incapable of keeping my balance. I attribute this type of sudden change to my diet usually, must have forgotten coffee that morning. She was next to me Monroe so I naturally made up excuses just like I always do. It always is me, that’s just the way I’ve always operated, but today it was her. For once in my life, everything halted and just as my knees crumbled, so did my heart. It burned and it melted as my hands started to sweat, I guess it’s funny when you read it, but I felt a dangerous mixture of fear and excitement, I wish you were there. I think after knowing me this long, it’s not possible.

Anyways, as I stood there obviously shocked within my own embarassment she looks over at me, Lilac I call her. Named her after her usual drink: Lilac mornings, tea, sugar, and a half shot of Bailey’s in the morning. She loved it, gave her true joy. I naturally start to perspire and bumble on what to say to her because I know I should. After looking directly at me for a brief period she turns away, disheartened it appears and walks over to the table by the door and entrance window with her newspaper and ongoing read. Monroe, I let you down, I know you always told me not to be afraid of these types of situations and for once let someone in, atleast have the heart to share myself with another who is just as interesting if not more. I stood there just like the fool I tell myself I am and burned my tongue on the coffee that I know will always be too hot to drink immediately. It’s amazing to me that in such moments we seem to justify our actions by re-living the failures of the past and realizing that it simply cannot get any worse that it previously has. Therefore Monroe, everything in that moment is alright, and we will prosper despite how much it hurts or is confusing. I used to be quite resilient Monroe, I gained no strength from counting the beads on my rosary. This isn’t a cry for pity or sympathy friend, I just think at that moment I felt love…Love in its most pure form, for once I let her in without telling her she’s won. She owned everything having never uttered a word. For this I am forever grateful.

I’m scared Monroe, I judge these situations too quickly and do not want to spook my coffee house romance, I am more than penatent my friend, I just wish that she knew. I would love nothing more than to grab her delicate hand and slowdance in the pouring rain to music neither of us can understand, but that’s ok because if that’s what it takes to prevent my regrets of tomorrow from becoming real I want it. I’m tired of living through memories Monroe, this love I feel is real and is justified by my reaction to its onset. I just wish I had finished school so I could dictate to you my insides. I promise to look at my past and forget it all if she will listen.

I just needed to tell you my friend, you always listen. I love you and miss you dearly. Will we get out of this little hell?

Love.

Yours,

Lost Soul

*Fictional

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