I am oppressed by the absence of you. You are roaming around in my mind like an out of control ping-pong ball. You are stomping through my chest, ripping away at my heart. The silence is screaming in the mangled words that are forming on the paper in front of me. I can hear your voice echoing, “bye”, over and over, and the sliding of my vehicle skidding down the driveway.
We are but little blimps on the maps of this world. Given one time to try to float where we can. But selfishly, we waste it. Every one of us. We focus on things that fizzle out instead of miraculous opportunities that may be right in front of our noses.
Now, look at us, alone we sit. A very familiar place indeed. This is why the silence continues. The stubbornness of our enjoyment of loneliness. The inspiration of the sadness within it. I feel restless and incomplete. The incompetence of what people call relationships is a mystery to someone like me. For me, there’s an investment of time built around the knowledge and adventure a person can match with me. I ask nothing of them in a physical or financial sense on purpose. I want it to be an open book, not capable of resentment for miniscule things. No regrets. If it works, then a lifetime of hard-earned happiness has bred itself from a place of pure dedication and partnership. If it does not work, you move on, grateful for the company, new knowledge, and passion fueled by intrigue. You mend your broken heart over time with the same two feet you stood on, on your own. And you remember everything. Because a lesson is truly the most important tribute you can take with you throughout your entire life, even when the season with each person or adventure has passed.
Love is an equivalent to a broad-stroke of freedom from anchors in the water. The waves can break against you even while you smile with the wind in your hair. You weather through each of the rough patches, clinging to a balcony. And when you finally get still again, what remains is what is to move on to the next phase with you.
So, I’ll sit here in meditation. Pain or not. Because it’s not new to me. And when the waves are done breaking against me, and the air around me becomes still again, I will move to the next phase, whatever that may be, with what or who remains by my side. And no matter how difficult that may be or how that may look, I will be grateful for every presence that has crossed my path, and eternally grateful for the lesson that each one taught me. Because each one, uniquely woven, makes up some of the most magical notches on the most beautiful of Orion’s belts in my galaxy. And who could really frown on such a glorious sky?
Cusps of a wrist slit, and all of a sudden you meet a person who changes your mindset. Maybe you meet someone like that daily, weekly, or sometimes, it’s a once in a lifetime meet.
A somber song about whiskey blares out of another car at the pump station, and you think of the last whiskey binge you had giggling to yourself at the tripping of your feet, the way your clothes still smelled of campfire the next morning, and how you can’t quite remember how you showered before bed, but you did.
In these moments, it’s as though the hourglass flips over again to give us another go at it. Laughable and angering at times, because some of those cusps of a wrist slit moments are the only moments in your life where you were 100% decisive about something.
But no matter, because here you sit at the pump station, stealing the music notes of another, as if illegally downloading it to memory. Now, briefly cringing at the thought of understanding exactly what they are saying, and smiling at the prospect of it.
You laugh to yourself as it really hits you. No one has time for your nonsense like you have had for theirs. You recall endless phone calls, endless support on your end, seemingly withered away due to the annoyance of your constant mockery of a life and your bottomless chaos. Yet, you still see beauty in this tarnish.
You now design your brain another future night of whiskey, and you know just who it will be with. That brings a great comfort and even an excitement of what new whiskey adventures await you to piece together once they have came to pass.
You put the car in drive, roll the windows down, and secretly cheers to the silence. For the confinements of your mind, if nothing else, have gifted you the comfort of yourself.
Beautiful and raw, broken and wanting, sexy and explicitly ripped wide open, and smiling through it, even if only for these brief moments.
Love, even if it’s with your drunken body. Runs circles around the fire and all at once, jump over it. Savor a whiskey-fueled kiss with passion and smoke. Peel away your layers and dance naked and free. And cheers to you, on every whiskey Saturday.
I wanna dwell in war torn streets, where my environment fits my chaos. That’s the way I see the world. Scavenging for basic necessities. Giving up on the mainstream fruits of life so the pressures of that life leave me. A dented can I feel like, kicked around as someone’s fun game, and even in that, I feel as though everything will seem like home.
I saw two dogs today, stray I suppose, playing their hearts out in the middle of nowhere. I remember saying to my daughter, “Look, even in someone’s saddest of times, and lowest of seasons, they can find a reason to be happy, even if only briefly.” I’m not sure if I believed it as I was even saying it, but I wanted to. And more than that, I wanted her to.
She told me that she didn’t know what it was, but at the beginning of fall, and the cold season, and the beginning of spring, she always felt nostalgia. As she drove us home, she asked me if I felt the same. I nodded my head as I stared at the sunset and a single tear secretly dripped down the side of my face that she could not see. I thought to myself, and then told her, “you know, I haven’t gotten to enjoy many sunsets in a long time, because it’s always me driving these roads, but it’s your turn now.” I leaned forward as much as I could, to bask in everything it had to offer. And I thought, I don’t have to pay anything for this. It’s free, and right now, it’s mine.
The pressures of making right for her seem too much at times, and yet, here I am; still dragging these heavy feet along. But I always think about it, a life without this trailer. Maybe some coffee over a fire, with the grounds still floating in it. Just the dusty streets and the forest. No sounds of cars and traffic, or people talking. Just a search for a little bit of food and water to forage, and a place to lie my head down in hopes that the next day will be just as quiet and bring blessings of portioned substance. A life that truly matches the chaos that fills my being.
Still, she pulls the car into our driveway, and we have to get out. I carry the little bit I afforded at the store, and try to smile and at least appreciate that she got the 2 yogurts she wanted, and I am sitting here now, writing, and also dreaming.
I don’t let myself dream beyond much more than these things. And it’s not that I don’t feel I deserve more. I don’t feel beyond that at all, not for myself at least. I’d be lying if I said I don’t for her though. I do. For me, I don’t allow myself to miss or envy things I’ve never experienced. What a sham that would be. I sit here now, paint severely chipped on my nails, stringy hair, and shoes on my feet that have walked many years with me. Yet, I’m content with these things for me, for now. I don’t want for more, but I never get far past the present day I sit in, and what challenges await me there. Day. By. Day. Never beyond that. If I could plan tomorrow, the seed would be empty of it, and unsafe for my focus.
My daughter teared up talking to me today. She told me her boyfriend was off shopping, spending $500 gifted to him by family. She was heartbroken that she herself, could not be afforded days like that, and never really has. Trust me, she has been gifted many things on Christmas and birthdays, for years to count. However, I knew what she meant. I couldn’t even buy her a thrift store shirt right now if I wanted to. My contentment for myself, is not the same as my contentment for her. I, in the face of her 15 years, have failed her greatly. I haven’t given up, but I say it out loud because I accept it. My hope is that someday, she could find a way to be proud of me for something. I hope I accomplish that in my lifetime. It’s on the top of a very short list of things I want.
I feel that one should dream the dreams of the kind of spirit your mind connects with. It may not be fancy things, or a lavish lifestyle. Maybe it’s just simply dreaming that one day, you’ll just simply be…okay. And that will be a freedom that will be more than this world could ever offer in things.
A forest that she has never stepped a single toe in.
This girl, but a fleeting breeze of wind in this forest.
She walks, her footsteps echoing through the trees. All the shimmers of light seemingly slowing down to a slow motion, as if stopping time, just for her.
This girl, doesn’t know where she is walking to, only that every time she is here, something pulls her.
One day, in this daydream, she finally walks enough to a place where she can see the most beautiful bluff ledge up ahead.
There are the most beautiful butterflies, birds, and creatures she does not recognize flying above it.
She begins to get the sudden urge to run towards it.
So, run she does.
While running, she is filled with thoughts of everything she has ever wanted to escape from and decides that when she gets to this ledge, she will not stop, but instead jump and finally be free from all that has chased her there.
Oh this girl, she has foreseen many ways that her time would come to pass, but never
one so beautiful as the final jump she would take.
As she runs, she feels a sort of spiritual weight begin to melt off of her. Almost faster than the sweat that now poured down her brow.
Tears begin to trickle down her face. She’s never been in so much pain, and yet, so much bliss at the same time.
Her end was nearing closer, and she couldn’t help but feel so at peace with it. It was a miraculous feeling to finally feel so free from the chains that had long rusted around her ankles, and shackles that had long caused the trimmers in her hands.
She began to feel this overwhelming anticipation that something magnificent was waiting for her in the unknown of her jump.
As if when she leapt, there would be no bottom to land.
Only a new beginning that she couldn’t explain, and an ending to everything she had known.
The ledge was within feet of her.
She said a final prayer, and a goodbye she’d hoped would find its way to those she’d cared for on the wings of these mysterious butterflies that had pulled her here.
This was it. It was time. She threw her arms open wide, a final tear streamed down her face, she exhaled one last time, and with a final smile, she leapt.
She leapt as high as the wind would carry her, soared, freedom was bliss, and…….
There is a girl.
Every daydream leads her to a forest.
A forest that she has never seen.
A forest that she has never stepped a single toe in.
This girl, but a fleeting breeze of wind in this forest.
She is sure, she will be back here tomorrow.
And the forest, it will be waiting…….