And it is about what you need at any given time in space and time and emotional planes. And I was on a precipise…and as much as I had changed…I equally needed to FEEL as if I had changed. Of course the jolt was real…but I needed to push away even further to reinforce to myself that I was somehow stronger than I had been before. I needed reassurance that I had been to the other side of the world and back and had something to show for it. And it was as much about the joltingness of return as it was about what you represented. It was about a wild sense of self that I had cultivated and a need to hold on to that and somehow an naivety in thinking that that couldn’t be shared right here and now with you in little old New Jersey. It was about SO many things and hardly none of them were you…but I pushed you away and I know I did. Because you were the only thing I could push away. And you were SO patient. And so giving and understanding in that time. You were so patient. And I had this silly idea that I needed to push you away in order to retain my own sense of self. I wonder if you’re doing that now.

It’s like this alienation of America and the only way we feel we can assert our individuality is by differentiating ourselves. Rather than respecting that our individuality will exist no matter what we do…and that there is more diversity in our union than in our petty attempts to separate. We cannot just trust that our souls are unique and magical in their own right we have to stuff it up with our individuality being somehow about what we wear and which recycled jokes we choose to tell and less about the fact that our light is our light and our colors are embued and emblazed with shades and shadows that could NEVER be repeated in any possible arrangement. We do not trust our souls…so we batter against them with name brands and some plastic and something borrowed and something blue and something turning bitter at every corner of our figmented pigment shapes.

At that time…when I walked off that plane and I needed to change the color of my eyes to hide them from you in some way…because in some ways I was hiding from myself. And while I FELT fearless…I was somehow afraid that coming back to myself would mean losing myself. I could not yet accept than I am what I am when I am when I am moving when I am stationary when I am flawed when I am falling when I am broken when I am unleashed I am all things I am free always. I needed to feel that I was one certain thing and that if you couldn’t see what that thing was…if I could remain mysterious…then I could somehow retain my magic. But the magic cannot go away. TRUST that. Trust yourself…you need not force yourself into whatever box you THINK you’re supposed to be in. Trust the contours and shapes of your reality to be reciprocal and cyclical in reference to your own undulating and pulsating soulfire. My light will always fill up a whole room if I stop trying to cage it around stable, sterile, stucco words.

That moment was not about you…or us…it was about me. I was fragile and forming in the forges of fire…and you were there to hold my hand even though I had no idea where I was skating or why. But I think from that moment on you felt the jolt and thought it was you. I think I even thought it was you too. But I was too blinded by my own self soliloquies that I couldn’t even focus you in my line of vision. It took me so long to adjust my eyes to the light…how could it ever have been about us? I couldn’t even see us…I couldn’t hardly see my own home. We lost sight of our vision…we confused the truth…we began to doubt our very foundations…because we lost our eyes…and then one day we could’t see each other at all. Nothing but smoke and mirrors.

I don’t know…I don’t know…but maybe this time has been about you and not me and I’ve just been in the line of fire. Unfocused in your swiveling eyes you’ve lost me in your attempts to find yourself again. Maybe maybe.

I keep trying to figure it out, I’m sorry for doing that. But here I am again and this wonder is all I have. Nothing but smoke and mirrors and a failed attempt to see what went wrong.

Maybe it’s because I’m delusional and I still like to think in these ways…but even if we DO get back together…I think this is right. We NEED this time to become real. To get Romeo and Juliet out of text and into real life and to break our walls down…translate our fears…see ourselves clearly. And if what we gather and see and illuminate is worth saving…then love will out in whatever time speaks from here to here.

Writing is starting to entrance me again. It isn’t mine. It’s beyond.

I will keep believing in you because that’s what I do.

And we know how to play these roles very well. I think these are the places we’ve trodden down many times before. You’re a pro though. I’ve never dealt with having to be around the person in this way…other than Conor really…but specifically an ex…Peter and I couldn’t do it…if we were in the same space it was unavoidable…but you’ve got a whole other realm of stubbornness that I’ve never known before. But I feel like you’re used to this. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for you to get out of it. 

And anything I have is fantasy. I am cultivating my sweet unknown fervor. The unquenchable thirst. Give me more of it.

I give thanks. It’s the act that creates.

Every act of giving is an act of purging…we should not presume to think that all of our best parts are not both inherently selfish and selfless at the same time. Love is innately both selfish and selfless at the same time. And in giving back to the world I also give back to myself. And that is ok. It is a form of self respect and self love as WELL as deep, giving love. BECAUSE we are all interconected and there is no act that cannot effect every falling domino. We are CONNECTED and what we have lost sight of is our deep and wild, fleshy bond that cannot be unrooted. We are an ecosystem. Learning about the way the world interacts with itself is such profound learning about the way I interact with myself. We cannot separate the two. That is the very point of departure in which plastic started getting into our bloodstream and clogging our arteries with pesticides and mistrust.

And purge and purge and purge. And what was once grey will slowly turn green again…and the clamoring vines that have bound us up in their will…once ripped off…will produce the most beautiful new growths…one we rip off the invasive species and tear down the walls…nature will grow the way it should…your heart and your skin KNOWS how to heal without you doing anything…all you have to do is wash the dirt out of your cuts and put a band aid on it and your body will HEAL ITSELF. The hard part is the letting go and freeing yourself…from that point on nature knows how to grow. That cannot be untaught no matter how many bulldozers we take to the mountains. 

There is a flow. And a connection between all things. And start anywhere and it effects everything. Everything effects everything…all parts of an ecosystem are connected.

And of course if you had deep rooted issues then they were of course going to trickle in to our relationship in one way or another…in petty fights and inabilities to forgive…and if you hadn’t even forgiven me on the whole then how could you forgive me for all the little symptoms. They were little symptoms of a big cork in the drain…but the symptoms themselves don’t mean that the whole body doesn’t work right…there is just an illness to purge. And the illness does not mean that the love itself was wrong or even that we ourselves do not meld…just that the cork ITSELF must be removed. The question is not whether or not we are right or wrong…but if there’s any way to heal. I sound so pretentious. I don’t really have any root. I just keep hitting against these walls you’ve put up and it’s in my nature to look at the stars and make them meaningful. 

And a balance can be acheieved…not equality…I’m not looking for some yin and yang….balance of good an evil…but moreso in the inherent fact that tributaries flow into streams flow into oceans…water dissolves and rains and the rain is captured by the soil and the roots and the trees hold the soil in and the soil makes the banks for the streams that keep flowing and when you look at the way of the world…the natural world…it is all there, it all has a connection and a purpose and a flow and a balance…and there is still chaos in this system..and I WANT there to be chaos…I want the unpredictability of floods and hurricanes…but nonetheless there is a power and a flow that cannot be reproduced. Just start anywhere and it all starts healing. Planting a tree heals a thousand different microcosms, not just one. And when we all finally feel the pull and the flow and we band together we will create a momentum that will upturn this downswing. Just LOOK at the world and all the answers are ALREADY there. It’s not even healing that we need to find. Just purging. Just ripping out the weeds and letting things grow BY THEMSELVES. Letting GO. Every fucking metaphor for everything feeds back on itself and finds me here in this earth and my body and my love and it touches every part of my life and yours because we are ALL in this together. I sound like a preschool teacher…but the patterns are just ALREADY there. Start healing ANYWHERE and all other things will begin to heal as well. Energy begets energy. The laws of physics illuminate God to me. 

And I sit at work and I just feel hope after hope after hope. And then I ride the bus home and I am surrounded by this whole other WORLD of people…I can’t even pretend that there is anything equal there. Or that it is their fault or that I could blame them for anything…and is this the masses I am so frustrated with? They cannot even afford groceries. And I get knocked on my ass again. And the only thing I can take from it is to appreciate and appreciate more and more…to let go and let go more and more of my pretentious concepts that I think are so true…and to focus my frustration on the people without excuses. All the people who have WONDERFUL lives and such opportunity and only find fault within fault of their lives. Is it because they feel guilty? Because they can’t make sense of why they are so gifted? Or can they really not see how gifted they are? Are we really this blind? We live 3 MINUTES from the ghetto. And we are so CONSUMED with our meaningless stresses and pettiness. But I can’t blame anyone. There is no one to blame because who the fuck am I to think I know anything about anyone else’s life or how to life it…and there lies this point of disconnect and I find myself at a loss again. And is it just the FEELING that we’re making a difference the only thing that we can do to justify?

And no one WANTS to know. No one wants to think about it. No one WANTS to try to find the answers to these sicknesses we don’t even want to acknowledge we have. We are so out of touch with our bodies that we don’t even know our own illnesses until they cripple us. We cannot locate the origin and I think perhaps there is not a single piece of clarity or root. And no…we cannot think about these things all the time…we have to find some way to live within our own worlds…our own bodies…without feeling the pain of every cracked tissue in every other body…someone has to stand strong for everyone else. So that is the only resolve I can find for now is to be the hope. To be the love. To be the healer. Heal the heart and it will pump blood to the rest of the body. And if this is a whole, breathing ecosystem…every piece that we can polish helps the whole lattice work.

I have this theory that if I can have the most beautiful life I can…and see the most beautiful things within the sham and drudgery…then somehow that beauty will escape back into the fabric of the universe and it will deposited back to the fold of the ocean and it will touch someone else on some far shore. And if I am a vessel of hope then that’s what I’ll be. I look at all I’ve been given and the only thing I can make out of it is this is what I have…I will create the MOST beautiful poetry I can out of it in the hopes that the hope I cultivate will one day spill out of my chest and infect the world. It’s the only thing I can do. I cannt tip the scales…I cannot justify the nonsense of this world…I can only hope…and smile at you…and weed out my own garden in the hopes that new flowers grow and their seeds find their way onto your yard.

But maybe you don’t even want my flowers…maybe you want your own dirt. So I should not try to presume anything. And I am left once again with my own life in my own apartment that I did nothing to earn and my education that is such a gift and just a bottle of carbonated hope. Shake it and it will explode.

Not that I’m saying I have anything figured out or am any better than anyone else…but I have hope so if that is my gift then that is what I will be. The world has enough eyes avoiding one another…so if I can be just one pair of eyes looking forward through rainbows…then that’s what I’ll be. And maybe people will start looking into my eyes and seeing the own colors in their own eyes. And that’s all I can hope for. A world full of color and hope. Not necessarily answers…but hopes. Answers are limiting. Hope is free.

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