Why do you expect me to hide my emotions under some false mask of apathy? Are you so easily irked by the authenticity of a vulnerable soul that you shun it so heartlessly? Or should I say, so fearfully?
You bury your self so deep inside you that when someone comes along who does the slightest attempt at digging you up, you force her to bury her soul alongside your dark “forgotten” secret.
Why do you think people are so obsessed with sex? Our cravings for connection which comes from that thing we buried inside ourselves, has to find a way to show itself. Physical intimacy then becomes a temporary solution to satiate that longing for connection.
You may never admit it, but you crave for the day when someone forces you to stare at your own shit in the face, and deal with it.
When that day comes, please tell me about it.
Why is it that the moment we choose to be vulnerable, we fall so hard so fast? We dive headfirst into the unknown because that’s what great literature are made of until we realize that we’re alone in the depths. We bare our bleeding patched up hearts and souls to the world just to prove that we are alive and breathing fire, and then, licking our battle wounds, we curl up in a ball at night hoping for a reprieve.
I know how it is, and I wish I can make it easier for us. But truth is, there is no other way to grow except to do it uncomfortably. As it does me, I know it takes a lot out of you to accept and live with that thought, it will be overwhelming and exhilarating, but I am still hopeful we can come out the other side scathed, but at peace with whoever we’ve become.
I have played many roles – the loving daughter, the hateful child, the cynical bitch, the cowardly lover, the damaged soul, the hopeful explorer, and at times, the reluctant student of philosophy.
All these roles, and not one has taught me what you did –
Being in the center of it all does not make one valuable.
Who am I to demand importance in your life? Who am I to ask you to save me, just because I, per your own words, might just save you? And I promise you, I ask these questions without sarcasm. I am merely in awe of my realizations today. It’s not fair for me to put the burden of my baggage on your shoulders. It’s not right to rely on your carving skills for a home.
You are not whole. I am not whole. How are we to save each other from the void inside ourselves if we have nothing of our beings to spare?
I’d like to travel with gypsies
And maybe meet people who are brave enough to be who they are;
People who are not afraid to take a leap of faith;
People who dance in the rain, and sing off-key;
Maybe I’d get to meet someone who has infant eyes, and a gentleman’s demeanor.
Someone who sees the world as a discovery – full of wonderfully weird creatures.
Call me naive, but I find it hard to wrap my head around the thought that there are people who hate to be loved. I met a couple of people last night who tried their hardest to make me believe that they are against intimacy. Not the physical kind, the emotional kind. I was fascinated with how much they were trying to persuade me into believing that they were happy with not wanting emotional intimacy. And please notice that I was being particular in how I said, “happy with not wanting”, because that is different from saying, “happy with not having”. I noted how they subtly assured me that they can easily have it if they wanted it. I’m not sure if I am deducing this correctly, but all those assurances made me think that they were scared, and that they were in denial of being scared. And as they were trying to secure my acquiescence, I couldn’t help but be thankful that I am in a place right now where I can confidently admit to wanting emotional intimacy. This thought made me proud of myself because I can say that I am finally brave enough to give emotional intimacy a try.
I learned a new word today. Hiraeth, according to Wikipedia, is a Welsh word that means ‘longing’. It’s a word that holds a deeper and more profound concept than ‘longing’ though. Hiraeth ultimately attempts to sum up in one word, the mixed feelings of yearning, nostalgia and wistfulness tinged with sadness over a lost entity.
I think I may have finally found the word I have been looking for to express the feeling I get whenever I think of my Dad; whenever I hear the song, “(How Much Is) That Doggie in the Window” and any Jackson 5 Christmas song; and whenever I smell the scent of Suave men’s hair cream.
My dad will always be the first person to introduce me to the concept of love. And I did not realize until recently that I never felt completely at home anywhere after he died. I recognize now that I did not only lose a father that day, I also lost a home. And like every person with no anchor to keep him/her grounded, I floated. I lived my life floating on the surface of each event. I did a lot of things – choir, theater, school organizations and church ministries. All the while unconsciously fooling people into thinking that I was completely engaged with my everyday life. I even fooled myself.
Let me be clear, I was, and still am, happy; but being happy is different from being at home. And now that I finally have enough space to consciously deal with my losses, I am finally figuring out how to make a home for myself. And this makes me happier.