A very loved mainstream show came out with its final season.
In the beginning of the seasons, I can’t remember if it was the third season (IT WAS, I just looked it up), I spent the Fourth of July loving on who would be the father of my son.
This Christmas, I am not with him, but I am watching this show.
The parallels and similarities are compelling.
Despite, in spite, regardless, I am slowly coming to the realization that something that I strive for, that feels out of reach, is also something that even thought it has ended over and over again, it has never let me down.
L. O. V. E.
I have to hold onto that. I tend to, but I really am getting confident with the utter fact. Love makes my life worth living. In all realms, all situations, all types.
This year has been astronomical in regard to love. Every year has, but this one is just stunningly contrasting. I met my best friend this year. I gave up on the idea of a best friend, especially after losing who I thought was mine for YEARS. And you might potentially see this as a rebound, but genuinely how can this friendship be a rebound if in such short time, it’s proven to be much more. Aren’t rebounds supposed to be a place where you lower your standards? Mine have soared in the friendship department.
She’s the definition of “if they wanted to, they would,” and, “we can be we but I must pour into me first.” We don’t do codependencies anymore. We don’t do bringing each other down to hell. Yes, mentally it gets hard, but we just lean. We don’t drag or crush. Refreshing, to say the least.
Low maintenance and nonchalance are words that haunt me recently. Recently is an understatement, but I’ll digress in private. I will never ever feel good about wanting to suppress who I am. I haven’t wanted to do that almost this entire year. I firmly believe meeting my baby pink twin helped that for sure. I’m not going to lie, at the start, I did suppress. Just out of habit. But everything fell into place, and opened and revealed itself, and she said I love this. I do too. I love being myself, it’s really cool.
The art of sighing. After a good laugh, a deep thought, a release. That’s what I did after writing that paragraph. Because speaking things into existence is sticky for me. I’m not taking back words anymore though. I’ll let them bleed onto every page. And I’ll sign them firmly and let people know they’re mine.
Love has never let me down.
Intention has.
If I’m hanging, dwindling, desperately needing something to work, that isn’t love. I type this and I mentally pat my own head. If desperation is suffocating, love is still not letting you down.
Comfort has also let me down.
In saying that, finding safe spaces outside of my own head, bedroom, clothes, and books, has been insane to me. I’m pretty comfortable where I am at. I’m scared, though. Something is still fleeting.
I’ll let it go if it has to.
And maybe that’s the same indifference I want to incinerate. I want to roll it up in a ball, wrap it in Saran Wrap, put items in its nooks and crannies of the Saran Wrap ball. I want to wrap said large Saran Wrap ball in aluminum foil. I’ll spritz the ball with a pretty perfume. And I will kick it straight off a cliff and watch it tumble into an oblivion of sharp rock corners, rubble, and dirt until I never see the f*cking b*tch again.
Have some passion. Have some love. Mean what you say and say what you mean. “Passing time” can surely happen but the time can pass respectively, time can still pass with meaning and restore sun sized holes in your heart.
I KNOW.
I miss my angels every day. Here’s the initials of the first ones I think about: KLM, AMM, RMG, GL, RH, VMRG, PR, there’s so many but these are some. This is also how I know love is worth it every time. Because they live through me fueled from that said love.
Energy doesn’t die. Every science teacher will tell you that. Even through the crevices of science and certainty, and making sense, love seeps its way through.
Infinitely, the one person you are always going to spend time with is yourself. And if you are growing, you change physically. Some changes are “unwanted”. You must love yourself through those changes. And the ones that are yet to come.
I breathe into myself and I see so much beauty among myself I cannot stand it. I get to a point where I want to show everyone just how beautiful I am. And I am NOT the most beautiful person in the world. I am among a massive population of them.
Among remembering things about one another, opening doors, doing tasks you don’t want to in order to make someone’s life easier.
Life and love and bravery is so stunning. Bravery exists because of pain and love and you cannot tell me any different.
Be brave.
Roar to the world how much you want to be loved.
[Image Description: Sitting in a lawn chair and with my ponytail holder on my wrist and my hand on my waist, you see a white tank top and multi colored high waisted jeans. I also own the rights to this photo. The top reads, “I’m really cold but I’m being brave about it”, with a trudging penguin above the cursive lettering. I resonate with that a lot. I wanted hugs from people who hurt me. But I must walk away. I would rather be cold and ready to find better than hot and be surrounded by people who make me feel like my chest is collapsing.]