I have high standards.
It’s not enough to like me. Tolerate me. Belly laugh at my jokes. Only expect toxic positivity until I’m choking on it. I’m holding my hands out and you’re standing just out of reach.
Life is genuinely, irrevocably, that fucking deep. I’m sick of acting like it’s not.
I am developing friendships. At any age, that’s a given. But I am finding myself taking a step back. At times, I find myself taking a deep breath in and sprinting the opposite way. Because everything I am is encapsulated in support and recognition. In finding words that are lost upon you.
And time and time again, I sit there stuttering, naming my accomplishments and you just stare at me.
“Everyone does that,” or “Everyone makes mistakes.” Yes, and now you’re standing in front of me telling me I’m not special.
I’m too old to not be special to people. That’s that animosity that “men” joke about. And don’t you come on my porch telling me I am dramatic and entitled! I am but it’s my porch. I decorate it and adorn it and sit on it when I want, dang it.
Rage is passion that went cold. Plain and simple. And I’m full of enough. I don’t want to be passionate about people who aren’t passionate about me.
That’s why when you meet people, and their highest aspirations are their outfit for tomorrow, then you can keep them. Delusions and dreams may coincide, but the reach is what I’m looking for. Hopefully, it’s not just a reach either, but a jump.
I am the most patient about my path than I have ever been. Just living in the now. Finding my skin so beautiful. It is a privilege if I let you touch it. As the motions should have always been a privilege. Instead, I used my body as an obstacle course. And not a resort.
Employ people in your lives. Make positions purposeful. I can count on one hand how many people I’ve felt genuine connection with, and that’s in almost 26 fucking years. Yes, be bewildered.
I know at times I sound like a broken record, but if I can keep catering my words to better suit you, then I’m happy. I’m fulfilled. I am ready more than ever to be cherished. Valued. And miraculously, respected.
“The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference.”
The person I’m delving into groans every time I say it, and I know that sounds awful but I don’t think it is, it’s playful the sound and the intention. I mean it when I tell them that I’ve never been seen as much as they see me. Our story is what I’ve prayed for. And I think I need to breathe into them as much as they should breathe into me.
Private not a secret boggles me still. I constantly fight myself over it. Do I want to be displayed like a trophy, or whispered to, touched behind doors. The last one I think I would do in any relationship (I’m a dog, sometimes, don’t judge) but the other things I battle with for sure. I don’t care about being posted. However, I do care about the way I’m spoken about in rooms I’m not in. Weird, I know. And it’s not like I want them coming to my defense. I just want them reminded of me. Smells, colors, vibrancies to be completely honest. Like a sheath. Beautiful but there to protect sharpness and precision.
The goal is to have the same room. And I can see in the way we breathe into each other, that it’s on the other side of the mountain. And that’s more than I can say about the galaxies of space I felt in any other relationship. And not just the romantic ones!
Our journey is one I don’t think I’ll ever stop being excited about.
We can stay whispering to each other though. My patience needs to be strengthened anyway.
So help me God.
Day.
By.
Day.
I yelp from a patted room.
Curiosity killed the cat but I still want you touching my cat.
EW. Aaliyah, as if.
Live a little. Sexual intimacy is also important.
Muah.
[Image Description: I own the rights to this photo. A heavily saturated theme, the photo appears to have layers. From left to right, it’s a smoldering red, a transition from dark blue to light blue, a piercing yellow line, and then it’s bumpy blue until it’s almost black. It’s the sky through a plane window. For some reason it posted sideways, which is cool. I can live with that. I just think the drastic color change is prevalent but that’s also a very nice description of my month by month in my life. Which I need to drastically keep focusing on.]