I have SO much to say. I will never get the words out. There are too many inside of me and they just keep rolling. The air is molasses and my body is lacy and wind swept. I am inside of a deep red Christmas carol that rings inside and out…the bells of my distant dreaming. 

I can feel you reaching towards me.

I am in pain. I am depressed. And it’s all PART of being whole. I cannot be human until I accept that I am broken. Life begins in this ripping shriek and we are SEPARATED from our mothers. We live in constant separation and illusion. And there is deep sorrow at the heart of us. This does not eliminate hope…it is just a part of being WHOLE. And I’m not afraid of it. I like to swim in it. I enjoy letting it devour me and consume me. I sat through the Glass Menagerie tonight and WEPT for an hour straight. Silently I sat there…tears just constantly STREAMING down my face and my soul literally feeling as if it was about to burst from my body. And I broke and I broke and I let myself broke.

And I am surrounded by all sides by this fakeness that I can see through and it depresses me.

And I cannot fucking solve anything. 

And this semester has been this wearing down process. This heart breaking journey of learning the hard lessons that I never wanted to learn. But in every way released me from my webs of nonsense that only led me down the narrow path. This life I have now is so much more painful but so much more full. I am always going to be broken. That is a part of me that I should ALLOW to live fully and fearlessly. Anything else is delusion. 

There is something so wrong about everything that happened. Nothing is quite right. And I don’t understand anything and I can’t make sense of it and that’s exactly what I needed somehow. I needed to be released from this thinking that somehow everything should fit. I am cultivating the deep sorrow. Not necessarily because it is pleasant but because it is what I have been given…because it is my humanity…and because it is profoundly beautiful. It drops life in…makes it real in a way that nothing else does and allows me to release from my silly ideas of the way life should be. It makes me fearless. 

And I am fucking glorious. Why can’t you just love me? I deserve something more than this. I know that’s almost exactly the opposite of what I’ve said. 

BUT I AM ROUND. I have jagged edges and bubbly toes. I have weak bruises and shallow squeals. There is great pain and immense joy in me and I cannot and will not try to rid of either one because they breathe each other into existence. They rely on each other. It’s back to this inceasing reciprocity. And I feel SO real. I feel more connected to everything than EVER before. I feel aware and awake and alive and it is because I am BROKEN. 

And of course it is love. Life could only be love. Great power and great DEVASTATION. Absolute illusion…pure faith…it can make a heart and break it. And it is not a give and take…a swing back and forth…it is CONSTANTLY the same at all times. One and one and one. We come from the darkness and we are only one light and we cannot win but nevertheless we are the light. 

And its this ability I’ve never had before to acknowledge that I love this place but that I just can’t be here. It’s killing my soul and I just can’t do it. I’ve never been able to bring myself to that. I’ve always dragged myself through the mud until I was FORCED to see the light. And I LOVE you Adam but you cannot even bring yourself to look at me even though you know how gorgeous my soul is. And I cannot let you do this to me. Or if I did…which part of me really wants…I would lose all my magic. 

I deserve more than this. We ALL do. We all deserve more than strip malls and shallow conversation and parking lots and constant back talking because we’re all so insecure because no one even knows who they are. We have no identity other than one that is given to us. 

I can face the disappointment of this life. I can delve into the deep sorrow. This is who we are. We are broken. We are forever in the longing. We are a tiny light within the vast darkness. We are all sides of a round sphere…we catch the light and we give it back. 

Let it BREAK. There is no other way it can be because that is the way that it is. It is what it is. I don’t know how but I know that my not knowing is the most powerful thing I have. I get lost in the delusions of certainty and the grandeur of faith…which is wonderful in its own right and time…and then I allow myself to release and let go when I swim within doubt…when I break myself and let all things flow. 

My heart aches around every corner. It feels jagged within my chest. Beastly, foreign and dragged up from the dregs. And yet love beats through it and it is not something I will ever fight against. 

You were always just the shape of a man. We both had dimples and green eyes. But you’re not Jim and I think you’ve convinced yourself that you are. I think I thought you were for a long time too. But you’re not. You’re a real fucking feeling human and there is no excuse for giving up on our love. 

I see you when you look at me. I always feel your eyes on me. And I’m sure you feel mine as well. What are we doing and why are we living this lie? 

I will feel all things before the end of this night. This journey will take me into every crevice. And at the end of my life I will be filled with so many trinkets and pockets of light that I will glow emerald before I take my place in the fire. I will feel shades of colors no one has ever imagined. 

It’s always a perfect illusion. I am tuning my eyes to see the illusions more clearly. Their shapes and presences…as well as their wafting curtains…what they look like inside, in between, and most importantly, from the outside. There is a widening feeling whenever I get outside of an illusion and start to see life from a higher perch. Being dropped right back down to the asphalt is thrilling as well. I am stretching on all sides. I want to recognize, love and live with the illusions in a way that will one day wake me up to be all at once the dream, the dreamer and the organic thread that ties reality back to it. And the world will be one beating heart. Fearless and star strewn I will see it and it will see me. 

The only great connections I’ve made here have been through the men that I have loved and that have broken me. 

And it’s always the same man I’ve been getting over. Over and over the same one man. And I think it’s always my father. 

I feel a thousand different things about you but all of them are love. 

I remember this boy screaming “I believe” at my from his car window as he drove away and I can’t reconcile my heart. And it’s STILL hurting. Why? 

And don’t try to convince me that it was my fault. I would always have fought to the ends of the earth. You’re the one who gave up. So you win. You always win. And I will always be Laura in my heart. But that’s not right either. I’m not Laura and you are not Jim. We are fucking real beings. This is not a fucking finished story. This is a beating heart that will live forever. You try to give it nice and neat corners even more than I do. 

It doesn’t all fit into my perfect image of the world and that is so RELIEVING. 

It is a DEEP longing we feel forever. It is the inherent loss of being BORN. Of embodying something which cannot be wholly material. This DEEP yearning. And another person can only satiate that hunger briefly…sustainance but we will never be fully healed. Never fully whole. We are always just parts of the whole. And to feel connected to another part makes our unfitting pieces seem to feel as if they round at the edges. And when they leave we are reminded of our true loneliness. A lone star in the depths. I am here in my longing. Always real in this loss. Always a piece of something missing. You filled me for a moment…and then ripped away the illusion you created. I can see better…but the things I see are harder to swallow. Give me and take me. And in the end and in the beginning and through the restless wonder that swells between…I will always be one tiny light bursting forth and returning back.

I only borrow love. 

I keep saying the same thing in attempts to bring warmth and shelter to the cavernous mysteries that poke through my seams, gape open and leave me in the wide-eyed, ceaseless wonder. My words are my companions and I am a hapless dreamer and detective.

Why are we always afraid that it “could have been worse”…or it’s good that it “didn’t get to that point”. Why are we afraid of those places? Those are the deepest and therefore the most illuminating. One day I will be allowed to step into those colors.

You’re not real until you’ve had your heart broken. Thank god for the gravity of my pain.

And tonight I get to dance my soul back into the fire.


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