I want you to desire me, with every aching bone you have in your body and every tickle of my touch that sends tingles up your spine. Though I know that as long as you’re in a genocidal war with the demons inside your head, you’ll never crave me the way I desperately cling to you. And it terrifies me, yet my mind always wanders back to the thought that maybe once the demons have stopped consuming your mind… so will I.
Maybe I’m just the distraction, the rebound or the missing pieces to the puzzles you’ll never try to solve or even begin to piece together. Maybe it’s true that I’m ‘just another girl’, or maybe, you’re just too apprehensive and unsure if you want me enough for this to be more than just a casual, secret love affair with a fast approaching expiration date.
Yet here I lay beside you, running circles through my mind and across the dips and curves of your shoulder blade… screaming out your name in my sleepless thoughts that cut a thin line between blunder and romance. Time uncontrollably slips though my grip as the blanket of darkness begins to lift and the early morning swallows rejoice in a new day, while I clutch to your side. I grasp onto anything that won’t forbid me from missing even a single breath you breathe and drag me out of this dream that has so preciously and instantaneously become my briefest reality.
Seconds abruptly turn into minutes, hours, then you incoherently shift weight, wrapping your gentle, muscular arms around my fragile body, tangling ourselves within each other and pulling me in… inseparably close. The thought of your delicate smile and subtle sweat stained aroma makes me weak and suddenly… everything goes numb. My racing thoughts are nothing against your soothing grip and faint, slumbered sighs of blissful content.
2018 taught me that it’s okay to start over. It’s okay to have to re-evaluate my goals, re-prioritize my passions and admit defeat, at least temporarily.
This year taught me to confidently live in the present, because even though where I am right now isn’t exactly where I had planned I’d be, I can and should make the most of what I’ve got, because sometimes, something good starts out as something small… a choice to make a change, an understanding that I don’t want to be defined by my failures, or the epiphany that I don’t want to live a life that’s… predictable.
When we give ourselves the strength to let go of all the things we cannot control, rather than allowing them to hold power over our lives, we free ourselves from all the anger, hatred, guilt, regret and unrealistic expectations we have for ourselves, and the lives we live.
It is within our own selfishness that we regret the passing of our ailing elders who have been welcomed into the restful eternity of imperishable silence… as we do not choose the time that our souls retreat from our motionless bodies, our time is chosen for us.
Do you ever pause and anxiously scramble for that perfectly sculpted fairy-tale response to appear in your mind when people ask the unnerving question “where do you plan to be in 5 years?”
I usually avoid this question like the plague and take it as lightly as my heart will allow. But as I sit here now meticulously pondering this question I’ve come to realize it has more than likely manifested by my undying fear of the unknown, rejection and the apprehension that the future I had hoped for would result in crumbling dreams and aspirations. Even the slightest thoughts about the future had previously made me sick to my stomach, and even now I still catch my wondering becoming obsessive at times when I contemplate how I could possibly think about where I hypothetically ‘could’ be in 5 years, when I can’t even figure out where I theoretically ‘should’ be.
It’s crazy how we allow ourselves to so easily forget how lucky we are, even in the simplest of forms… gratitude. We lose ourselves among that everyday chaos and impatient rush between the briefest of moments to the next, that we so effortlessly take everything we have and are for granted. We forget about all of our simple pleasures in life and all those little things that bring us the purist amounts of joy because we’re so dismissively oblivious to the world around us.
We try to define love so we can understand it… We paint it in black and white so we can describe it, make sense of it, or… see it for what it truly is.
Truth is… Love is knowing your partner’s weakness, but never using it against them. Love is doing absolutely nothing with them, but still being indescribably content. Love is when your favourite parts of them are all their little mannerisms, quirks and little things they do that make you head over heels for them. Love is trying to be mad at them, but uncontrollably laughing with them instead because deep down you know everything is better with them right beside you, holding your hand; and honestly, the thing you were fighting about in the first place wasn’t even that big of a deal anyways.