I want love that is

i want a love how it is... sleep deprivation pain deep in my chest that is only filled when her voice rings through my ear, touches my hand, or slows down to catch a red light so we can have one more second in each others eyes, and lips. i had had that, once.

isn't love also that comfortable silence sitting in the car while driving through the night though? no touch is needed, no whisper spoken. it's wanted, but not needed. it's an ideal to me at least. i long for love in the sense that i want to know for certain that i want no one else ever again in my life. to be able to say without needing another's assurance that i love one person more than i love myself.

i want it all and nothing less. will i ever attain that goal? i can honestly say that i don't know. i don't know for certain if it even exists. but what good is it to not dream? i'd rather dream of a false ideal than live without a dream at all.

untitled

So call it fate. Or call it divine appointment. Call it whatever you would like.
But whatever you call it, somehow life’s circumstances have led you to someone.
And they will continue to lead you to many different someone's.
Some will make you weak in your knees, child-like if you will, others you will allow to pass by going unnoticed.
But when someone does catch the attention of your heart and mind, choice steps in.
Will I have the nerve to pursue this woman?
Or will I allow intimidation and fear of rejection stand in my way?
And how will she respond?
Will she run from me in fear of falling in love and having her heart broken once more?
Are both parties ready to be committed to someone else?
Have I fallen for whom she really is or has her outward beauty seduced me?
Has she fallen for me simply because I am showing her the attention she desires?
Or has she fallen in love, not with my accomplishments, but with the man that I am?
Is a relationship even an option or does age difference or life calling and experience stand in the way?
And can barriers, such a geographical distance, be overcome?
Is the person worth the sacrifice?
Is the person worth the effort?
Is the person worth taking your own life and intertwining it with theirs?

Hopefully some day I will all have the opportunity to say yes to these final three questions, but until then . . .

this quote seems apt.  in light of where i think i am currently at.

"Life is a hospital where each patient is possesed by the desire to change beds. This one would like to suffer facing the stove, that one believes that he would be cured next to the window. It seems to me that i would always be will where i am not, and this question of moving is one that i will discuss endlessly with my soul." 
Charles Baudelaire  - anywhere out of this world

did he just read my mind? everywhere in my life is my hospital bed. i move here/there and i think someone somewhere else is finding ecstasy elsewhere. contentment evades me like the women of my dreams, like the fame, like the money, like the power, and like the intellectual stimulation i long for. 

it seems Seattle has music, Paris has culture, Spain has elegance, London has fashion, New York has trend, and my life...it has... only me. just me. 

will i be a sinking ship or a lighthouse?

 'Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted; the indifference of those who should have known better; the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most; that has made it possible for evil to triumph.'  - Haile Selassie

i wanted a lighthouse. maybe i was supposed to be the lighthouse. either way with the fact, at moments life has a way of slowly putting a pillow over your face as you try to sleep. a slow and steady suffocation, i wish it was all of a sudden so that you could instantly deal with it and leave it in yesterdays wake. 

at moments this feels like such a negative world we live in, the only bright spots in it we ourselves must create for others.

i woke to the sounds of an argument or 'discussion' with a loved one, i can't seem to make them happy, or maybe they can't make themselves happy. either way i feel very responsible and helpless this many miles away. 

some time ago i got news that a friend nearly killed himself because of depression, but  only a few weeks before that  i had  sat next to him. nearly in silence, talking to him about shallow instances and surface niceties. i wanted to go back in time and pull him away from himself, and the pain that surrounded him. 

i cannot allow myself to wallow in the mire of negativity for long, for mapping out the long and winding road of negativity means i must travel it to chart it. i allow myself to fail, for if i had never failed i could have never learned the lessons i hold dear. but as far as drowning in what i see all around me i refuse to watch from a distance simply shaking my head in pity. i am going to try to be the lighthouse that brings people to shore. i may lose some along the way, but all i can do is shine a light [no, not the song analogy]. 

'Avoid destructive thinking. Improper negative thoughts sink people. A ship can sail around the world many, many times, but just let enough water get into the ship and it will sink. Just so with the human mind. Let enough negative thoughts or improper thoughts get into the human mind and the person sinks just like a ship.'  -Alfred A Montapert

if only it was that easy though. at times, it's not.

random sorry, i know. but i’ve just got a lot on my mind.

veracity.

If I died, one would merely have to collect my writings, photographs, lyrics, journals, and the conversations I have had to know everything about me.  I feel in life each one of us are a complex puzzle, the older we get the more pieces there are for one to collect.  We give a small portion of ourselves to each event, moment, and person that we come into contact with.  I would imagine we are all the same, some pieces given more freely than others.  Some pieces bigger than others, according to their importance/impact on/in our lives.

Are we really ever really ourselves, not in the sense of being who we really are, but do we belong to ourselves? 

Are we really an island to ourselves?

I believe we are not an island to ourselves because clearly when others give us a part of themselves (whether it be their intellect, faith, or opinion) we do not only take a piece of their proverbial puzzle, but we then try our best to attach it where might fit the best, if at all.

And they take from us as well.  Whether good or bad, right or wrong, positive or negative.

The other day as a friend and I were sitting outside wishing it were a few degrees cooler and hoping that there would be a lot less humidity in the air, I proceeded to surrender some of my struggles to my friend, not that she could ever relate or sympathise, but that I could hand her a section of me that was an aggravation to maintain.  

Why does handing something verbally over to someone feel so freeing?   As if now it is their burden to share as well, even though that could not be further from the truth.

I wonder if the reason I don’t tell one person alone every aspect of my life is because I’m afraid of what they might find out.  As if one person alone held every key they would realise I am simply human.

So silence is my defence mechanism. 

Silence allows the ability to have opinions formulated not by who you truly are but by what others think you are.

Silence has never had its way with me before, so why begin now? 

I want to hear what others believe, I realise that the more I know, the more I realise that I don’t have a damn clue.

I want to learn truth, I think we all do, there is something out there greater than ourselves, that can complete our own ‘puzzle’, because I see now we were never complete to begin with.  Though I find solace in the words and wisdom of others, I see that knowledge and understanding are only the beginning of any quest for veracity.

my apology

i am sure that i am going to regret putting this post up. its pretty late at night and I'm feeling vulnerable and somewhat disillusioned. i will probably take this down tomorrow. but for some reason i feel compelled to admit my guilt. in some ways maybe this is some sort of bizarre and twisted therapy. i am guilty. i have, and will fail. but i need to get over my superman complex and become vulnerable so that others can learn from my error.


ive come to see what a bastard of a human i have been in my life. i think it all started around the age of 20, maybe earlier. it wasn't sex i sought out in women. ever. it was merely the attention. and not just the attention from humans it was from only females. sad really. actually not even sad, its pathetic. i desired to be desired ironically. and that's it. once i was accepted it was over on some level.


i bought a shirt a while back. it said CHANGED. random that some wear their heart on their sleeve, but modern fashion allows me to wear it on my chest as well.


i have never had a girlfriend that i cheated on. being single is a new experience. a good experience. so while i've never cheated - i've often thrived for this attention. i think the simple root of my problem can be traced to the fact i never felt like people close to me were proud of me. though i got a lot of attention from my folks and those i respect, i think sometimes it may not have always been the most positive. but i can't and will not blame this on them. my folks are brilliant. actually i think its a cop out when people blame all their problems on their parents or those close to them. poor cowards. they will live their entire life's never knowing that they themselves made the decisions. sad when people cannot take responsibilities for their own actions. but this is my confession, and my problem, and i am simply pointing out a possible root.


tonight i walked by some men that couldn't have been but 10 years older than me. hitting on some women in a bar. i thought to myself how disgusting. all she is to them is prey. then i looked in the proverbial mirror. i don't want to be that man. single and hunting, years past days he should be making a family. and that's what it is right... hunting. well that's what it looked like anyway.


the other day a very nice looking young professional talked to me for quite a while. she said that she shared the same group of mutual friends, and had the same musical tastes as me. which i thought was funny. at the end of the conversation she gave me her card and asked her to call her so we could hang out and she could show me around my new city. on the way home i handed the card to my friend. he ripped it up. sorry if you see this "M". but i thought you should know.


i don't want to be a bastard anymore. i am not going to hurt anyone anymore. i want a secluded life. i want to grow a beard or something. i wish i could walk away sometimes. to anywhere. but that's pretty cowardly of me isn't it.


insane as it sounds men glorify other men that break hearts and take names. from black books to books like "the game" by neil strous. we make it appears so glamorous to tear someone apart, take them for all they are worth, and walk away. i am sure there are several guys reading this that can relate. you have a game or plan on how to sway lips. pathetic is the key word in this dissertation.


i have a lot to learn. i am no where close to who i want to be. i am going to stay a few paces back from any relationship. i have broken a couple bridges, moved to fast, tried to slow down, and crashed. i have a reputation now. undeserved on many levels. deserved on many other bigger levels that those people don't even know about.


i walked into a tattoo studio the other day. on the wall there was a heart that looked like it had been sewn up. across it was the word repair. and for some reason it compelled me.


like anyone with a problem, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, well here's my admission. and though i am going to regret posting this at all maybe it will help someone admit something they are dealing with or help someone realize that they don't have to get attention from the opposite sex to feel validated. its so very pointless and shallow. be who you are.


as i was walking away from the tattoo studio i remembered the scripture that Christ had spoke "... i have come to heal the broken hearted". then i realized im the bastard that probably broke that heart or hurt that person. i will change. i am changing. its simply a matter of time. just you wait and see.


i guess the one thing i have not done is to say sorry to anyone i have hurt. sure this doesn't amount to much. words are the most meaningless objects i have in your lives at this moment. but maybe this is where honesty and admitting i am wrong come into play... i am truly sorry.