Monday, May 5, 2014

Where Do We Go From Here?

When you’re young, all you want to do is fit in. Blonde hair pigtails and bright blue eyes. And while my family has been blessed with relative success in recent years, for most of my childhood years, we were poor.  So it was all the more reason to be normal, to pretend everything was crystal. Then one day you grow up and you learn what agency feels like. You learn that you aren’t alone, and even if you are, who the fuck cares? It comes in waves, but slowly, you get more and more comfortable in your skin. Then I met Jeff and I just couldn’t believe it. He was too good to be true, honestly. Past, present and future, we were the same. Inseparable, infatuated and in disbelief. If there was ever a God, you are living proof.

Together, we're not normal. We grew up poor, so what? At times, I worked 3 jobs to pay for my college books. At times, Jeff worked from 2AM to 7AM and have to be in school the same day. So what? We've lied about our past, our roots. We've never been completely honest with any single person, not even ourselves. So what? We've had parents treat us like we're nothing, and siblings turn a blind eye. We've been hit and gone hungry. We've seen things no child should see. So what? We've felt abuse and pain and misery. We've seen defeat and disappointment and despair. So what? So what?

Now? We're working through a cloud of guilt. We are our therapists, our mentors and our sole inspiration. I used to hate myself, my actions and my life, where my every choice was crippled by another persons choice. No more. Now we rebuild ourselves and a lifetime of difference will follow.

So we're not normal. We're 23 and own a house. We work together, day and night, at one of the best companies in town. We're happy and live a life filled with small luxuries only we will ever understand.

Friday, March 21, 2014

Tears Do Not Burn Except in Solitude

It's so important to me that you understand. That you see me even when I'm not there. And so I'll talk and talk until my spirit is lull and there is no sense. You ya you, you understand, right? Right.  But comfort isn't enough. Not for me, not anymore.  I want sincerity.  I want truth.  I want it all. I am so full of wounds that when I stand, it's not my legs that give me grief.  The truth is that I would rather say less and for it to mean more.

But I can't demur when you've had the same.  Together we are a dictionary of heartache and today I only receive what I give.  Squint my eyes and think back. Think.

Twice I've been reborn.  Once, on the day I realized I didn't need to be a fucking doctor or lawyer or astronaut to save the world. And again when I found you.