For you are my treasure, my love that astounds.
Ah, yeah for those moments of true bonding. So here we sat, sprawled on the floor, our bodies sharing the same small rectangle of space. My head was in her lap, her hands skimming through my hair, banishing the pain that held me in its clutches. He leaned against the bed, just under an arms length away, but not too far to be one with the rest of us.
No, this was no college orgy scene, as that was already being covered down the hallway. This was friends, a meeting of minds, embracing their love for each other's personalities and quirks. From the impromptu demonstrations of strange talents to comments of pure randomness, giggles and honestly abounded. On my back, my belly laughs turned into cackles, as they always do. And I knew this--this connection, this synchronicity, this thing almost tangible holding us together--is the answer I've been looking for.
For now I know I don't have to fit anyone's mold. I don't have to say what's expected, do what's expected, be what's expected; I just have to be who I really am inside. If I don't feel like going out, I can stay in. If I don't feel like smiling, I can frown. If I want to dance around and sing at the top of my lungs, I damn well can, because I have people who will love me in spite of it, who will love me because of it. And all those people who don't get it, don't understand me, it does not have to concern me, because I get it, I'm beginning to understand what it really means to be me.
Being me is writing poems about people I'll never talk to. It is shooting the shit with people who care about me, fabricating elaborate plans to stage whole Shakespeare plays with only three actors, each performing multiple characters in the same scene. Being me is drinking coffee at 1 AM, even if I have no need for caffeine. It is getting excited over the shape of the moon outside my window. It is spouting trivial knowledge for the hell of it. Being me is whatever I want it to be, because I am Me.
Inevitably, there will be times when I lose myself. When I can't see myself for all the people around me, can't see the forest for the trees. Conflicts will arise when I can't handle them alone, and I will need help, even if I refuse to admit it. People will come into my life, people will leave it; some will mean something, but just as many will enter and exit without much of a thought. The important ones will stay, either in person or etched on my soul. Things will fall apart, but through it all, even if I don't know who I am, what makes me me, what makes me special will remain. As long as I hold that thought, even if I lose grasp of the true me, she will always be there, waiting for me to reach out and hold her again.
No, this was no college orgy scene, as that was already being covered down the hallway. This was friends, a meeting of minds, embracing their love for each other's personalities and quirks. From the impromptu demonstrations of strange talents to comments of pure randomness, giggles and honestly abounded. On my back, my belly laughs turned into cackles, as they always do. And I knew this--this connection, this synchronicity, this thing almost tangible holding us together--is the answer I've been looking for.
For now I know I don't have to fit anyone's mold. I don't have to say what's expected, do what's expected, be what's expected; I just have to be who I really am inside. If I don't feel like going out, I can stay in. If I don't feel like smiling, I can frown. If I want to dance around and sing at the top of my lungs, I damn well can, because I have people who will love me in spite of it, who will love me because of it. And all those people who don't get it, don't understand me, it does not have to concern me, because I get it, I'm beginning to understand what it really means to be me.
Being me is writing poems about people I'll never talk to. It is shooting the shit with people who care about me, fabricating elaborate plans to stage whole Shakespeare plays with only three actors, each performing multiple characters in the same scene. Being me is drinking coffee at 1 AM, even if I have no need for caffeine. It is getting excited over the shape of the moon outside my window. It is spouting trivial knowledge for the hell of it. Being me is whatever I want it to be, because I am Me.
Inevitably, there will be times when I lose myself. When I can't see myself for all the people around me, can't see the forest for the trees. Conflicts will arise when I can't handle them alone, and I will need help, even if I refuse to admit it. People will come into my life, people will leave it; some will mean something, but just as many will enter and exit without much of a thought. The important ones will stay, either in person or etched on my soul. Things will fall apart, but through it all, even if I don't know who I am, what makes me me, what makes me special will remain. As long as I hold that thought, even if I lose grasp of the true me, she will always be there, waiting for me to reach out and hold her again.