Why am I like this?

If you expect something from me, I will automatically care.

So when you tell me you were waiting all night for my message, I will feel bad for falling asleep. Even though I owe you nothing, barely know you, have all the right to sleep whenever I want or need to (especially seeing as I struggle with falling asleep). So I should be happy I dozed off so relatively easily. But, you showed you cared and that it bothered you. You articulated expectation, you were disappointed by something I did (or didn’t) that had no real direct correlation or connection to you. I will still care, feel bad, guilty, inclined to fix it or make it up to you. Did I mention I barely know you?

Why am I like this? (and seemingly only I in this whole wild world) Because I know how it feels to care and not be cared about, to grow attached a little too quickly and cultivate rapidly expanding expectations based on a needle point sized probability of reality. I have been mistreated, dismissed, disappointed, led on, kept in the dark, lied to and cheated on so much and many times. Still I will always (regrettedly to my own ego and self loving properties) believe in the best of people, hope and pray for the best in their lives, give another chance each time the former expires, let people cross lines I’ve chalked down in blood, keep giving more of myself even when I clearly receive nothing in return, pretend I’m okay with what happens while I’m dying inside. Why? Why am I like this?

I am care. The very definition of sensitivity. In both its light as also dark magic. Now I only have to learn how to apply this all to myself. And as I tred the silver silk line that is this process, I slip every other step, back into familiar default patterns. Two steps ahead, always followed by one backwards. Still moving forward, though, through constant setbacks. Crawling through layers, scratched by the cracking of surfaces I break through and rise up from, ready to fall all the way back for the slightest sign of care from anyone who’s willing to show it. Not out of desperation for attention, rather despair for the acknowledgment and existence of unconditional love. Not because of weakness, but from the urge to mean to others what I wish I could mean to myself.

Pursuit

In the pursuit of my dreams and growth, all I remember hearing was how people were sad about where I’m going and will miss the way things were with me.
Not everyone is willing or able to join my journey. Nobody but me has to be.
Just don’t be surprised that I won’t feel sad for where I’m going, because it will bring me further and forward. Also, the way things are with me will never be the same.

I will always strive for better.

Message in a bottle 

I wrote down my love
Rolled up the message in a bottle
Sealed with a kiss
I put it to drift in the sea
To travel across oceans of hope
To reach the shores of your heart
Ever since we grew apart

Stick your feet in the sand
Let it coat your skin
Feel the suction of the water
You might see a piece of me within
When you do, all I ask
Not for a response, but
Read my love for you

Ours


I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing about long distance relationships, until I’m finally released from one. Love crosses borders like the wind, with ease and we allow it to sway us away, as we please. Many might not last but when they do, it’s as romantic and exhilarating as it is terrorizing, terrifying and destructive. Because all that you feel won’t ever fade away as long as you know it’s true. Maintaining equal amounts of love, trust, respect and communication is essential and impossible in the same extent.

We grew closer than I’ve ever been to any other soul, than I’ve ever allowed another near my core of cores. I’ve caught myself underestimating the true essence of this power we both share. So pure a love that it makes the universe stop and stare. In the eventual awareness of this, I know you are made of the same fire as I. We burst from the same flame and traveled around the globe through epic places and times until our hearts met again in the most twisted circumstances. Only to realize, this was all for us, ours, all along.