I perceive every interaction in my existence as something. I don't understand nor can I conceive a world without feeling, emotion, or consequence. I am not one to tread lightly on the subject of loss, pain, love, happiness, or sorrow. The fleeting glimpse of anything remotely stirring in my being is a tidal wave of something wanting to get out....I have to run, literally or figuratively to protect myself from the immense creation my mind wants to unfold. I don't understand those who can keep these things within them...hoarding them in the closet of their space until it eventually burst open for all to see. No one will know, everyone will be astonished at what has come forth. "She always seemed so happy, her parents were so loving."...they will whisper and gawk at the mess that exploded in front of them. I can't comprehend the state of a human mind that is at rest, my brain is bombarded with facts, figures; the why's and how's of life and death. I often wonder if anyone else thinks of death as often, the dark abyss sinking deep within the depths of nothingness...or perhaps the light enchanted place of the heavens in the afterlife. I don't know how anyone can lose a spouse, child, cat, lover without looking back. I am forever seeking the truth about the past; my constant pain of turning my head to see what could have been. My ego believes it is possible to change it; my broken heart knows that is not possible. I often wonder how someone could be my friend, how they listen to my sorrow, pain, and fleeting happiness without leaving me to mumble to myself about the universe and how I can conquer all the fears that come with it. I don't really understand how some can be constantly happy, I feel the need to kick over their sand castle even knowing it took patience and time for them to build....I want them to feel anger, resentment and fear as I have. No, I don't feel bad about how I express myself, I don't expect that anyone would be ok with having their feelings thrown out to the world for all to see. Perhaps that is why half the population is medicated, if not we would be inundated with poets, and playwrights...manic lyricists on every corner. I still don't believe in the glass half full, I believe that when the glass is empty we must suffer through our thirst until we find the one thing that can quench it, which might take a lifetime to conquer. I feel empathy and compassion for those who wait for their mocha latte to cool so that they may take a sip, for this is the highlight of their day. I can not relate to the average, the "normal" human way of life. I fear nothing and am sure to push myself through the uncomfortable spaces that might confront me, I will never hesitate to seek out the unexpected.....my closet is clear of my skeletons, they left long ago, but I still don't sleep. I lack the ability to comfort myself, and perhaps maybe others....silence makes me happy, solidarity is my playground. I am comfortable with knowing that no one will understand me; dying alone does not scare me, and what I feel, will always be written down whether I want it to escape or not. Normality sound interesting to my subconscious, perhaps I was on the PTA in a former life, or the wife of a politician. Maybe that is why I fear a cluttered closet of souls that go unheard.....the lost voices of past lives...emotionless and unfeeling. The hairs on my arms stand just thinking about it. The darkness of the world give me hope that one day I will be free of myself, to drift off with the angels or devil....either way I will be free. My closet will be empty.
My heart and soul is drawn to this one moment, i reach forward to feel the pull of the stars, my heart wanders in circles trying to find the right emotion, the correct current to keep hold of what it knows it desires...constant yearning will no longer suffice. He's right here, next to me...standing in my space. The space i held for a feeling of an eternity to bring him back. The subtle glance, a sweet smile, a shift of body weight, the breeze against a strand of hair....minuscule yet huge in comparison to what lie here before. Death, sorrow, nothingness.....silence among weeping. The line of stars fill the sky, the color of a galaxy we yearn to understand, when we don't even understand ourselves....so small we feel at this moment, yet so powerful filled with a swollen heart wanting to burst at the seams with the scent of his skin. The ticking of time ceases to exist, yet we know it will soon end. The milky way will always be there, guiding us towards its oasis of light, a single slice of a life that could have been, that once was...a derivative of zero.
Views are not only mine, but all who come into my life. I share those I admire, and discard those I do not.