Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

“I can feel the weight of these memories, so large that I can’t carry anything new into my tomorrows. At some point I have to make a choice, but I’m afraid that, even after all these years, I’m still going to choose anybody but me…”

Falling down takes time, and has layers, and can even appear beautiful. It’s sort of like a sunset on the beach in late September. It’s not truly autumn, so every evening is ushered in on the tail-end of a dying summer breeze. The light from the Sun plays games with that not so warm air, flickering more, almost dancing, as it descends onto the horizon. The space between the Sun and the Earth, the Earth and the sky, the skyline and the edge of our planet, stretched out across the deepest of blues reflected in the open Sea… For a brief moment, you can close one eye, and these vast distances and heavenly bodies all fit in the space between your thumb and index finger. 

But the moment is only that, a moment.

The Sun keeps on dancing as it slips over the edge of the world. The breeze keeps on twirling, the oceans are swirling, but it’s all beginning to fade into the background as the Moon and the stars take their positions. The transition is peaceful, poetic even, and I find so much comfort in this daily sight. The world ends every day without a fuss. It takes time, but it’s never in a rush. The Sun goes down as its own pace, and it manages to stay beautiful every step of the way. So maybe falling down isn’t such a bad thing after all, so long as we remember that falling down always comes with the opportunity to rise again. 

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“For every day I spent believing I deserved to be alone, you promised to help me find all of them, so you could show me that there was never a time when I didn’t deserve love.”

When I’m talking to you, I never feel like I’m ever talking “at” you. Like, when I’m telling you a story about work, or about something I did as a kid, or something I imagined I’d do someday, I know your listening. I’m not sure how I know, I just do. It probably has to do with your eyes, and how they might not always be trained on my lips, but they never shift out of focus. Your hands also play a part, because they sit so calmly in your lap, not shifting or shaking, never appearing jittery or anxious to be on the move, except when than make their way into mine. Whenever I’m talking to you, it’s not like I’m just sharing words and stories, I feel like I’m sharing me. I feel like I’m sharing me, with me. You’re a part of me, and as a part of me it’s only natural that I’d share who I am with you. I want to share, and you want to share. When I’m talking with you, it’s like I’m just talking to the best parts of me, the parts I always forget I have. You remind me how much I have to offer this world, and I really, really hope I make you feel the same.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

I often wonder what these words would feel like now, rolling around in my gut, but I’m pretty sure I keep this bottle open so I’ll never have to find out.

The words rise from the walls of my lungs in a rush of warm breath. I can feel them, every syllable, every tiny edge they have etched into this heart. They brush up against my teeth, and my tongue feels awkward in my mouth. I don’t want to stutter, but these sounds have no patience, and my lips are pressured open in a way that ensures an awful start. But my eyes, they have found something worth all of the attempts my life can produce, if only to make sure my conviction, my feelings, are crystal clear. My body finds it’s balance as my heart, that felt sure to run away, is suddenly still, as if to ensure that erratic beating won’t drowned out my words.

It’s only a few seconds of my life.

It’s not guaranteed to be forever.

It’s only 3 words out of millions.

It’s not guaranteed to be reciprocated.

It’s only one complex emotion in a sea of similar sentiments.

It’s not guaranteed to lead to a happier life.

It’s only another person.

It’s not guaranteed this person is the right person.

 

But still…

 

Right here, right now,

It’s forever for the seconds before and after.

It’s 3 words that tell my entire story.

It’s one emotion that tells the rest of me who I am, and who I will be.

It’s not just another person. It’s her. It’s only her. It was her yesterday, it will be her tomorrow, and it will damn sure be her, standing in front of me, whom I let these words loose for.

You have me, all of me, my darling.

~I love you.~