I think about you everyday. I miss you. I think about the what have I dones and the whys and why didn’t I and how could I and what was I thinking and in all of this, making some rational sense because sense without rational is like the national anthem without pride. oh Life, I don’t want to disappoint you anymore.
My coffee had a belly.
It went under the second I swished it around it’s mug.
Or is it my mug?
It has more ownership being inside of it afterall.
That is not to say being inside a woman, you own her.
So maybe safe to say, it is the mug I am sipping out of and the coffee I have made to go in it, is just that.
It is it’s own identity and the mug and I,
100% Lively Lane
BU 4URA QT314
Objective: To create a happy and carefree ( but not too carefree ) way of life. To maintain a positivity that I bring with me, full time.
I’m a qualified human being- I was born into this world and I have a beating heart.
I’ve excelled in many areas of life, I’ve strugged here and there but I push all the way through it, until I am out of it. And then I’ve gained something. I am always gaining something.
I drive a 1988 Tenacious Endurance NonBored NonEscape.
I have went to the school of Experience.
And I have a degree in it.
I’m here, applying myself to life.
And I’ll do it over and over again.
Even without the paperwork.
He probably half meant to and half didn’t.
Make me pick up bags of guilt when I thought of my past, and carry them around with me in my days of present.
Half meant to and half not.
I have two large tote boxes-well, the regular size used for storage- full of journals,diaries,binders, notebooks— my past writings.
Going through them the other day I pulled out recognition and familiraity.
I write of insignificant happenings in my life then, that at the time were all that I could see or think about. They were the hugest particles that I made my life about.
It clicks into place as my eyes skim over words I wrote 15 years ago.
10 years ago.
Not only did I survive those stories that are in my binders, notebooks, and journals, but I created more meaningful relationships after they were over. They DID end and I was able to carry out more in depth friendships because of the individual I had become based on those trials.
Who says past has to make one feel guilty when it can be the very thing that makes the present make sense and bearable and understandable.
It swims in violet swirls as I am finally understanding fully, that I am learning about love. That I am learning what it really means to love. And it is difficult.Learning AND Loving. And the reason I never knew much about it before now is due to the fact that I always ran when it got tough. When I didn’t like something and told myself it was a big deal, it was easy for me to step out- for I had never fully given myself. I hadn’t become vulnerable enough. I was too stiff and scared to risk.
My standards are still high, but now I see better, the love I have in me.
I have felt loved before, I was always loved. But this love means the most to me. And why? Because this love comes from someone that has seen and dealt and cried and feared and hurt so badly for my mistakes; from who I was before all this. And. They Still love Me.
So now, along with the past seven months, I go through the active repercussions of my past choices. I see that at the same time there is the pain that love can bring someone, the incredible drive to continue is also present.
And THAT, is something that makes me love better.
Experience is the best teacher, even if it hurts the most. These days I’m prooving to myself that I love deeper than I ever have before.
And that’s an experience I wouldn’t trade for three A’s in grade 12.
I knew he liked me. I knew his eyes were on me as I sat, conversing with another. I knew the lines out of my mouth sputtered up his brain wave lengths. I could tell by the surprise gleam that coated his eyes the instant my line was out. I knew in his reactions, he was intrigued.
I kept my distance.
But it was a feeling I recognized. This is what I used to catapult for. I could live off of this feeling. I do not think I am complex. But I am creative.
At least in one category or another.
As I have got older, I meet more people that have more experience. Like me.Less surprises them. As children we go so much with the flow because we do not know what to believe, what to understand or trust and growing makes us more aware. We are not surprised at much. Then we reach that bubble of our personality that determines what we are surprised at. And it diminishes over time because we become accustomed to it.
I don’t live for that intrigue anymore. For those reactions.
I think that’s part of the reason why I’m shuffling around. I think I thought that was my purpose. At least something that I knew made me happy. But in the end it isn’t sustainable happiness. I can’t interest everybody at the rate I would like while dating someone. I think that was a difficult pill to swallow.
But it is good, very good, to have come to that conclusion.