Everything emotional seems to be spinning out of control. All of my individual hidden agendas seem to be spiraling into a whirlwind of exposed dust that will be swept away by acknowledgement and self disdain. Torn between right and wrong, I am. Torn between my newfound love for giving and my old grip on selfishness, I am. Trying to justify in my mind decisions that are beneficial, yet emotionally detrimental to ME. I have been struggling with understanding the validity of setting aside my own emotional needs and desires, to fill that of my children. Holding onto material that is slipping from my hand, material that can be easily ripped, is not so secure, yet all that I have to hold onto. When I cannot come to decisions that I feel good with, I give up inside. I let them go, and wait for my senses to move into that realm that is comfortable.
Is it wrong to want comfort, to feel safe and secure, to be able to sit in absolute peace in your surroundings? What measure of absolute can be had while stagnating in the absence of reality, when everything inside longs for something that is completely beyond reach? What kind of satisfaction can be had in knowing that even as every pore that allows the skin to breath begs for mercy from this undying love that is not reciprocated in the way that is wished, that the core of loniliness is like a never-ending tomb of darkness? Standing in the middle of crossroads that lead into unseen paths, choosing that which is sure, is the most devastating farewell that can ever be unspoken. Questions of "what if" brushed away by the assurance of "never will" assuming that "someday" just cannot happen, seems easier than waiting inside infinity. Even as love was spoken, it wasn't believed only to be replied with the accusation of nothing being real to me. Living life in a fascination that does not want to be experienced is detrimental to mental states. Accepting the giving of love that is standing before my saddened eyes is my reality, holding hands that do not hesitate to console me, even though the face I see belongs to another.
I traded my pain for the lesser of two evils. I turned in my sorrow for love that would never look my way. I traded tears of sadness for tears of emptiness hoping if I released my soul to one, he would save me. Left paddling against the tide, floating atop an empty shell that once weighted down my back, I was washed away, only able to see his figure a distant shadow on the far away shore.
I exchanged my insecurity for a hope of lying beside him in the night. I have released my dying for the angst of love that will never embrace me. I have promised to teach love and laughter to one whose head is always turned away. How can you know of a smile when you will never look into my face?
I will make good on what I have vowed, buying gold with rusted iron, leaving pebbles where flowers once grew, stopping to see myself and admiring my new found treasures. I will not regret that I traded burdens for a weight that will forever entwine itself within my soul, ashes for beauty that I can never touch, fear for strength that rarely whispers into my ear anymore. Why does passion only love you when it needs to and walks away when it deems you whole, leaving broken shells to heal alone against the beating of the waves upon its stone?
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