The surreal real world
It's been awhile, I suppose.
Life has been crazy... crazy good.. crazy bad.. crazy new.. crazy old.. crazy for feeling so blue kinda crazy.
But it seems to be the best this way.. real and alive, and living and being and not hiding.
Here I am
Got my number.
Unable to think of reasons why life is not settled yet.
Things are amazingly conjoined... at this moment.. worlds colliding.
Writing letters to my man in jail.
"Dear Baby-Daddy," I write, lovingly to him.
Strangest thing, really.
Snowing on the outside, while a tall brunette blue eyed beauty sleeps soundly on the couch after a hard day's work.
Another blue eyed beauty begins a strangely unexpected "let's get together"
Not about that, no. Not about us, no.
About me.. about her.. not about us.
Strange, just as things settle down.. just as I get her off my brain, out of my heart, out of my head.. after two years..
"March 31st? Sounds good.. See you then", says the message.
See you then
That's next week.
Suddenly from 0 to 60 in 2.5 years.
Zip.. boom.. bonjour.
Back in business.
I miss that friend.. that one who caught me every second I tried to decieve... and vice versa.
I miss that friend with homies, and art and poetry that made no sense to me.. Squiggles on a paper meant more to her than any person ever could.. and rightfully so.
It was her language.
I didn't speak it.
We spoke the language of friends... and I tied it up with confusion, with loneliness.. with my need to conquer.. with my insecurity..
With myself.
But yet life knocks on your door in the form of a 7:00am text message one cold day in January...
And with that second chance I will try to fit into my life what I couldn't when I was blind.
It's strange seeing light after so much time in hiding.. so much time decieving myself, and those who cared most about me..
And it's hard to make it right.. because I don't do much right.. even when acknowledging how wrong I am.
It's an addict's attitude, I believe.
In meeting more people like me...
Addicts, I mean.
Formerly, I mean.
Our addiction now is only to ourselves..
Our imperfections.. our worlds that we try and make simpler by making more complex by making stories that make no sense.. and by driving the people away who never bought the stories but always stayed.. until you said no more..
and quit them like the drug they were.. the enablers they were..
but after one...
after two..
after four...
After five..
Is it them?
Or was it me?
It's me, I find.. .and this I know..
I haven't a thing to make it right..
I haven't the security to make it so, either.
Perhaps this deamon in my closet of insecurity that I am meeting for once.. .truthfully, face to face... for the first time in my life next Thursday..
Perhaps there will be questions answered with no words spoken..
Perhaps this movie will have a happy, sappy ending..
And perhaps for once, things will make sense.
I am as happy as I can be.. surrounded by three kittens, two cars, two bikes, one bed, one heart..
My love.
It's steady, it's constant.. it's here.. and I don't fear it today.
I fear myself, true.
But not this love.
There's a sense of independence.. a sense of belonging now.. a sense of security and strength.. and respect..
Subway kisses, Central Park picnics, and Brooklyn is mine.
I've got my very own "I heart NY" now.
Life has been crazy... crazy good.. crazy bad.. crazy new.. crazy old.. crazy for feeling so blue kinda crazy.
But it seems to be the best this way.. real and alive, and living and being and not hiding.
Here I am
Got my number.
Unable to think of reasons why life is not settled yet.
Things are amazingly conjoined... at this moment.. worlds colliding.
Writing letters to my man in jail.
"Dear Baby-Daddy," I write, lovingly to him.
Strangest thing, really.
Snowing on the outside, while a tall brunette blue eyed beauty sleeps soundly on the couch after a hard day's work.
Another blue eyed beauty begins a strangely unexpected "let's get together"
Not about that, no. Not about us, no.
About me.. about her.. not about us.
Strange, just as things settle down.. just as I get her off my brain, out of my heart, out of my head.. after two years..
"March 31st? Sounds good.. See you then", says the message.
See you then
That's next week.
Suddenly from 0 to 60 in 2.5 years.
Zip.. boom.. bonjour.
Back in business.
I miss that friend.. that one who caught me every second I tried to decieve... and vice versa.
I miss that friend with homies, and art and poetry that made no sense to me.. Squiggles on a paper meant more to her than any person ever could.. and rightfully so.
It was her language.
I didn't speak it.
We spoke the language of friends... and I tied it up with confusion, with loneliness.. with my need to conquer.. with my insecurity..
With myself.
But yet life knocks on your door in the form of a 7:00am text message one cold day in January...
And with that second chance I will try to fit into my life what I couldn't when I was blind.
It's strange seeing light after so much time in hiding.. so much time decieving myself, and those who cared most about me..
And it's hard to make it right.. because I don't do much right.. even when acknowledging how wrong I am.
It's an addict's attitude, I believe.
In meeting more people like me...
Addicts, I mean.
Formerly, I mean.
Our addiction now is only to ourselves..
Our imperfections.. our worlds that we try and make simpler by making more complex by making stories that make no sense.. and by driving the people away who never bought the stories but always stayed.. until you said no more..
and quit them like the drug they were.. the enablers they were..
but after one...
after two..
after four...
After five..
Is it them?
Or was it me?
It's me, I find.. .and this I know..
I haven't a thing to make it right..
I haven't the security to make it so, either.
Perhaps this deamon in my closet of insecurity that I am meeting for once.. .truthfully, face to face... for the first time in my life next Thursday..
Perhaps there will be questions answered with no words spoken..
Perhaps this movie will have a happy, sappy ending..
And perhaps for once, things will make sense.
I am as happy as I can be.. surrounded by three kittens, two cars, two bikes, one bed, one heart..
My love.
It's steady, it's constant.. it's here.. and I don't fear it today.
I fear myself, true.
But not this love.
There's a sense of independence.. a sense of belonging now.. a sense of security and strength.. and respect..
Subway kisses, Central Park picnics, and Brooklyn is mine.
I've got my very own "I heart NY" now.