Revitalization's Weblog

For the curious, questioning, and wandering soul

Archive for black

You thought

You thought he was going to be the next great love, another great chapter in the love story of your life. Another man, another great love, perhaps the great love. You saw so much potential in him, he was handsome, he was charming, his smile just melted you, his laugh…. his openness, his bluntness, the way he was raw with you. Even the way he was hesitant, unsure…. this was new for you, not another man trying to get you, you… you had to work for him, show him, encourage him… it was novel indeed.

Gosh, I thought he felt the same way. Maybe he didn’t know it yet. Maybe he was unsure. Maybe he was still stuck on his ex. He didn’t imagine it could be this good, that he could meet someone like me, beautiful, ambitious, smart, successful, funny, talented, caring, open, and honest. He didn’t know what to do with what was sitting right in front of him… why didn’t he know what to do? Why didn’t he try to chase me, capture me, hold on to me because of all that I am…. Did he not see the potential in us that I saw, that I deeply knew. Why was he not being honest with himself. We could be so great.

Gosh. Goddamn. I wanted it to be him. I wanted him to give me what I’ve had before and even more. You’re always told the next love isn’t better, it’s different, but it also fits just a little bit more. I thought he was going to fit a little bit more. I thought he would eventually choose me. But he didn’t. Why didn’t he choose me…

He told me he had reservations. He had doubts. Fucking emotional baggage. I don’t blame him or his exes. It is what it is, but why couldn’t he be more mature and overcome those things. It the saying really true, it’s not only the right person, but it’s also the right time. I would hope, so deeply hope, that if I met the right person that they would choose me, no matter the time, day, night, heartache, or jubilee, the would want me to be there, they would try, they would hold onto me.

He didn’t hold onto me. He told me he wasn’t sure of what he wanted. He told me I was amazing. He told me it was unfair of him to make me wait. Well that’s goddamn for fucking sure. Goddamit. What an idiot. A beautiful, handsome, lovely idiot.

I just go over it in my head. Over and over and over and over. I try to look at every moment. Every conversation. And scrutinize and figure out. All in all, I did fucking awesome, I was honest, I was open, I told him exactly how I felt, I held my standards, and… he still didn’t choose me, he still didn’t want me. Is that what’s driving me? The want of something I cannot have? I don’t think so. I really, truly, deeply think that I am still… still…. I still question why he didn’t choose me because I had high hopes, I saw the potential, but I also felt the connection. As I dwell on it, dwelllllllll, well I start to question it, it starts to grow and distort in my mind, it looses it’s original shape, it’s original dimensions. It starts becoming art, a creation, a fiction of my imagination… It starts to become something that it’s not. I wish my head could lead my heart. I wish to believe that I met a great guy last year, in the winter, and we went on a few dates, and we kissed, and I was excited, but we were in different places, he didn’t know what he wanted and I knew and I still know. He told me I was amazing, he said I wouldn’t be single long. Well that’s the shittiest of them all, isn’t it. Like he is trying to comfort me that some other guy will scoop me up because I’m so great. Fuck you. Fuck you man. Shit. I don’t want to hear that from you, of all people. I wanted that man to be you. You let me go, and you told me to move on. Double whammy. Wha-pow. Damn.

I look at you, and it’s starting to be from a distant. I think time allows us to let things go. Dissociation. The natural forgetting. The forgetting of your face, your glasses, your hair, your hugs, and your smile. The forgetting of the way you radiated when I made you laugh. The forgetting of how awkward and deep your voice was on the phone.

Mixed emotions is an understatement. Because I am glad I met you. You, you reminded me of the things I value, of the qualities I look for in someone. I could list off a hundred, but let’s not blow up your ego while I’m the one feeling down, okay? You’re great, I know it and you know it because I was so persistent with you. But I also want to forget you. I think about you and the missed potential often. I guess there was no potential, there was no reality, no future. You weren’t there. Everything I imagine, it wouldn’t have happened. I want to ease my mind and my heart. I want to slow down and take a breath. I want to remind myself that there are great, wonderful guys who will love me back, who will want me. It’s rare. Maybe I’m saddened by spotting something rare and having to let it whisp by, willingly. I have to encourage myself to let you go. Because you let me go, willingly, you saw me, you knew me, you knew how I felt about you, and you let me go. You told me to move on.

Attachment is suffering, the Buddhists got it right. But attachment is human. And suffering is human. And even with the suffering, I am glad to have known you but more importantly known the potential. Just like my ex, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything, because it was such a huge experience and part of my life. I want to be able to admire the beauty in our situation and apply it to the future, without the heartache or sorrow of missing something with you.

I want to tell myself that you were’t right for me. That the right person would have chosen me, every single fucking time. I want to tell myself that you’re an idiot, you’re a shitless coward, you live within your fear. Who the fuck am I to say these things? I will say, it wasn’t black and white. You left us in a gray zone. You left me in a gray zone. And you left me to make my way through the fog, squinting, trying to find my way to the light.

Look. I guess all I’m trying to say is. I am sorrowful for my mind and for my heart. I want to ease them both, comfort them, and reassure them. You let me go. You did that. I had no power, no control. All things considered, I think I handled that situation like a boss. You let me go, and I have to let you let me go. I have to be okay with that. I want to be okay with that. I want you to become a distant memory now. Something of my past. Something I can fondly remember as a distant memory that would take 3.5 seconds to recall and to mull over and to brush past. Like men of my past… I want your details, our interactions, our conversations, I want them to fade away. I want to find someone who wants me, who wants to hold onto me and never let me go, someone who will fight fucking hard to be with me and will show me every damn day that they care about me.  I want a great love. It’s difficulty to find.

I acknowledge that I miss you, that I wish you gave us a chance, that you told me to move on and that you didn’t want to date me. I acknowledge my sorrow and sadness about the situation. I acknowledge that for what ever reason the timing and maybe definitely the person wasn’t right. I acknowledge that my eyes start to water when I feel my heart starting to break. And I acknowledge my desire to move on, to find someone great and for it to be different, even better for me.

A, I wish you the best. I wish that you find your peace with your exes and your past. I wish that you do everything you want in life. And most of all, I wish that you find a beautiful, wonderful, smart, loving woman who will fulfill everything that you want, make you feel wanted and safe, and who will push you, challenge you and grow with you. I want only good things for you. I hope you find great love and I hope when you find her that you hold onto her and don’t let her go. I hope that you know that you’re deserving, that others shouldn’t ever question your worth, that you’re  a catch. I wish you only the best in your future and just… stay open, don’t be jaded, let her in, she means well. I hope you find her when you’re open and ready and supposed to find her.

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Mindful

The music starts to play, lightly, the piano sings a soft lullaby, lulling your mind, sweeping your thoughts into currents and eddies, floating effortlessly, moving with the air, with the wind. You watch the keys dance, ivory white leaping and diving in a choreographed ballet with their jet black partners following in suit. It’s as if that’s all they know, because it is all they know and all they will ever know. Their purpose and their intention being to follow their bony puppeteers, the true orchestrators, and translate thought into harmonious cadence, inviting unsuspecting listeners to be swept up in sweet serenity.

the earth may not blink, not even pause for a moment

let the politicians figure it out. let them fight the fights. let the soldiers go to battle.

sometimes, I think it’s all overwhelming. I think all that is here, on this earth, it’s too much–all the people, all the suffering, all the fighting, all the arguments, all the killing, all the sadness, all the joy, all the beauty, all the births and all the deaths, all the life changes, all the milestones, all the relationships, all the animals, all the diversity, all the open spaces, all the deep oceans, all the stars in the sky, all the vastness, all the evolution, all the religion, all the politics, all the thoughts, all the beliefs, all the misunderstandings, all the relationships, all the marriages, all the families, all the childhoods, all the nightmares, all the fears, all the faith, all the rivers, all the trees, all the woods, all the shorelines, all the specs of sand, all the cars, all the planes, all the trains, all the poverty, all the disease, all the hunger, all the hopelessness, all the damaged, all the injustice, all the talk, all the noise, all of it. All of it, constant and real.

how does one wrap one’s mind around all of it, constantly changing, morphing, evolving? how does one keep track? how does one make any sense out of everything? It’s terrifying, and amazing, sad and joyous, earth-shattering and awesome. It everything. And, when were in the middle of it, in the thick of this madness, in the center of the storm, in between foresight and hindsight, I can only find indescribable fear that one day, it will all be gone.

All of it, gone from memory, gone from conciousness. And the earth may not blink, not even pause for a moment, not even flinch. Time will go on, people will keep moving, talking, and the noise will only get louder.

I don’t understand. I cannot comprehend why there is such cruelty, such disregard. To experience something so awesome, so tantalizing, so inspiring, only to have to leave it, leaving not a trace and taking… nothing.

Where’s my mind at?

this is where my mind lingers:

The aqua blue water whirled, bubbles rising towards the surface. The water is clear, with little specs glimmering as they sink to the sand. There’s no life here, only brown-white sand, that stretches for miles. Somehow I can stay below, eyes open and no breath needed. I look all around, but there’s only soft sand and the movement of the soft waves.

I push off the ground, my toes dig into the sand. As my head breaks the water, I peer up at cloudy skies. White billowing clouds stream across the sky. As I face the horizon, there’s nothing but water in every direction. It’s perfectly calm.

I blink, and it changed. From light to dark. From day to night- but it is not night, not really. Dark chaotic clouds rise, rumbling. The atmosphere is electric, the darkness romantic. These heavenly beings surging with power. I feel it coming: the first strike. With a loud crack, light fills every inch of space and mind.

Snatching the Unattainable, Only for You

Fuck this shit. FUCK this. These expectations are too high. You put them there, on the highest shelf. Out of reach. Criticize and criticize, until you’re blue in the face. Fuck this shit. I hate it. I cannot handle it. I’m supposed to be hard and tough, build a hard, plastic shell around myself to protect my fragile innards from the verbal wasteland known as your mouth. Well, I don’t. I don’t have a shell, perhaps I tried to build one, make one…. but it has cracks, deep cracks and go straight to the core. and every time you poke, every time you comment, it sticks that dagger a little deeper, it widens the crack a little more, revealing a swirl of vulnerabilities.

Ok, so I’m not good enough. Is that what you’re getting at? That I’m not worthy of this time and this money, these resources and all that you’ve given me? Is that it? Because I cannot achieve the best, be the best, be the one and only BEST, that I am not worthy. This may have been a bad investment. I may have been a bad investment, because I certainly am not what you want, what you desire in your heart.

You, you want perfection. You want this from me. How cruel and undeserved. You tell me I’m wasting time, I’m wasting money, I am wrong, I only do things wrong wrong wrong. I can hardly take anymore. It is hurting my heart. And I’m afraid that there may be some permanent damage.

Oh sure, you’re blind with a vision. You’re blind with ego. But, you don’t see what you’re doing to me. Breaking me down, with every small comment, telling me oh so very indirectly that I am imperfect and wrong. Never right. I can never be right or good.

Disappointment, that’s all I ever feel. Well, perhaps that’s a bit extreme, but that’s what I feel right now. Disappointment because I cannot attain the unattainable. Because I am not good enough, and you expected more. You set the bar too high. And while I have tried for years and years to reach that bar, standing on the tippiest toes, I always stumbled, I always bumbled in your eyes. You don’t see me, you only see my faults. You only see what could be, what should be. You don’t see what I am, and what I have achieved, what I have managed to accomplished in the endless pursuit of trying to appease you and your thirst for perfection from me.

Oh it’s tiring, oh I am tired. This has been an arduous journey and I feel myself breaking down. I try to shield my fragile beating heart from those words, I try to persevere. But, there comes a time when you get through to me. You cut right into me, break me down and tell me to stand up to take some more.

How am I supposed to be a confident young woman, outgoing and smart? How am I supposed to tackle this world and believe that anything is possible, when, you have undoubtedly shoved straight into my face that hardly anything is possible, because I have achieved almost nothing.

You break me down, but I still come whimpering back, trying to please and appease, trying to gain your approval and praise, trying, desperately trying to snatch the unattainable-only for you. I try, I try, and I keep trying.

Where You Stand

“You, from where you are, you cannot see the naked boy

The naked boy holds the camera

You are the naked boy before the camera

Or you are here and you are imagining the naked boy

This is not a dream and this is not a dream relationship

The boy wants to touch you

You are the other boy

The city is far away up in flames.

We’ve come a long way to be here

We said we wanted to get away from it all, but when we arrived in this place, it was all still here

It traveled with us

The histories, the bookmarks are part of your body

So all that you are is where you stand

Naked and getting more naked

A weight without weapons, a body of work

You stand at the edge of the rest of your life. This is what you stand for.

The boy stands with you, beside you, before you. The boy is the life you stand before and you are the boy standing at the edge

Stand by me. Stand by me.”

-Chris Goode

my mind forgets, like a sepia photograph slowly turning white

Memory: intangibly forever. It’s really all we have in this life. When time speeds up and our lives slow down, all we are left with is a shallow collection of memories—it’s all we have, it’s the only proof of a life lived that counts. While the ability to trap time and space within our minds is utterly glorious, it is undeniably frustrating.

As I grow, as I age, I find that my memories from yesteryear are riddled with gaping holes, leaving shreds of random recollections. While they may not be random, while there may be some subconscious grave importance to the memories I still keep, I cannot help feeling disappointed in the inability to remember every single solitary moment.

My memories are sliced into pieces, spliced together, and strung along a string. Like a kindergarten art project, my memories are hole-punched. Euphoric memories are salvaged, while dull and negative memories are excised. They are snipped from the stream of remembrance, and discarded so carelessly. They fade away, like a sepia photograph slowly turning white.

My mind buries the bad. My mind forgets, consciously concealing.

I find myself remembering only certain things; I tie these recollections down with double knots, and think about them for weeks, months, and years. I never fatigue from grasping onto these memories with clenched fists, constantly dissecting them, mulling them over, trying to dive deeper, searching for… something true.

I hold on tightly, perhaps TOO tightly. And while I desperately cling to certain events, others are forgotten. They are shoved out, dumped like trash in a gutter. I find myself disappointed in the limitations of my mind. It is devastating to know that those memories are gone—those first memories of light and sound as a newborn, the memories of walking and talking for the first time, memories of a childhood—they are all slipping away. WHY! I want to hold onto my humanity. I want to remember and reflect and ponder and know EACH day of my life. Each and every single day that I lived, that I was in existence. WHY should I have to forget.

I don’t want to forget this life. I don’t want to forget what it meant to live, what it meant to grow and evolve. I don’t want to forget the progression. I don’t want to forget myself.