If being love is to be the light, then let me shine. If being love is to hear and be heard, then let us speak our truth. If being love is sharing space, then let us sit together by a stream, basking in the mountains, speaking with nothing but our joined lips.
I’ve been fortunate, I’ve lived a full life. I’ve survived abuse, self-hatred, a morbid curiosity and countless incursions into my own abyss. I’ve felt hatred, intense and unabating anger, depression, and a sense of loss I never thought I could overcome. I’ve cried myself to sleep only to awaken so that I could repeat my errors over and over again.
I always thought you were beautiful. I would gaze at you from a distance, knowing you barely knew my name. I would admire your eyes, they curve of your mouth, the way your hair flowed just […]
“Together” once meant everything to me, and I once fought hard to keep it next to me. The more I fought, the less “together” I would become.
One cannot understand the strength of things bound in the hands of such a love unless he has been there himself. One cannot understate the notion that we are brought together and driven apart, by events and circumstances not of our choosing.
Someday we may touch that place where connections meet.
With that, adieu. If these are, by chance, the last words I ever write let you know that I’ve fulfilled my promise.
