Huh…

Huh…

There’s silence around me
But there’s still noise
In my head
That my mind makes up
It’s own soundtrack
A playlist consisting
Of background music
That matches feelings I won’t let go of
Swirls of images
A vortex of sound
All crowd my mind
In silence
A loud silence
The whooshing of the
Air conditioner
Somehow evades me
The gentle splashing of the pool
Doesn’t catch my interest
The planes flying overhead
Are reduced to background noise
But I hear my own voice
Not coming from my throat
Some inner me that can’t be real
Because it’s never present where I am
I hear that
As clear as the day I hadn’t noticed
As present as the sun baking my skin
The voice rings back and forth
It resonates from soul to mind
I hear it
Reading
A voice I wish I had
Because it’s oddly more articulate
That voice could probably sing
And I suppose it does
In the same voice as Lauryn Hill
And it reads like Emma Thompson
And it raps like Kanye
And occasionally it throws clever quips
At disappointing memories
And I imagine I could have shut that voice up
At any time
Had I ever noticed it speaking
Without me
As it is
Currently
Huh…
What a beautiful day

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You are beautiful

You are beautiful

I thought you weren’t once
I saw something else completely
But I think I might have just been hurt
Because you stand there
Without me
Absolutely beautiful
Or maybe you too never saw it before
And I could never convince you
So when I saw you
I only saw tears, pain, and heartache
When really you’ve never been
Anything but
Beautiful
And I’m glad we can both
Now see it that way

Inbetween

I’d kiss you if you asked me
But I won’t mind it if you don’t
I’m more interested
In the inbetween anyway
Where I can sit right beside you
And I get to hold you close
And it’s so natural
You think nothing of it
It’s where we tell each other
Honest truths
That sort of feel like secrets
The way our bodies relax
Like we let something go
And we swim in that
Deep connectedness
Both heavy and light
And you witness a realm
You’ve never noticed before
You’ll say it feels like
“Something bigger”
When you’re with me
I’ll smile because you notice too
The only real feeling
I love
Love
Without all the extra bullshit
Without all the simple urges
Without the resistance
We often hold
At our cores
I’m interested in the inbetween
Where I can love you
And you love me
And it’s not a dramatic mess
Of emotion and pain
And all of those simple urges
That come up
When we worry about having nothing
When life
And what we think life is
Gets in the way of real love
So I’ll kiss you if you ask me
If you still mix up the feelings
But I would prefer it
If you don’t
Because if you linger
On knowing me that way
You’ll confuse it with something real
And it might be hard for you
To ever really know
How I love you
Inbetween

To You: A Prayer

To You: A Prayer

When I was little
My daddy taught me how to pray
One way
And I never forgot
I always started and ended
With the same hopeful arch
I began
Father God, thank you for:
And I’d list all the people I needed to love
And in a whisper
Because daddy was listening
I added the names of the people I wanted to
And after all these years
Not much has changed
Ever since I met you
I’ve whispered your name
And I still visualize angels camped above me
In fancy tents as
I hope your heart is happy
I pray your smiles are real
And that your life is filled with the love and laughter
Photographs often lie about
Please bless them with all that they need
And help them find themselves where they are meant to be
It sounds like a prayer still
Because it is.
In Jesus’s name
Amen

Candlelit Thoughts

Candlelit Thoughts

The lights have gone out in the bathroom and my roommate and I have yet to fix them. At the moment it’s being lit by candlelight. I don’t know if I’ll change it any time soon. I probably won’t. The effect seems to fit my life, which always sounds so dramatic when I tell about it that I laugh at the recanting. Occasionally, I even laugh when it’s happening. Drama seems so funny in real life. It just looks so out of place. And yet, it’s sort of all I really know.

Though drama befits the circumstance, I’m not actually thinking about anything all that dramatic. I was thinking about being someone. Whomever it is I’m supposed to be. I was thinking about how to become that without throwing away everything about me that I’ve spent my whole life trying to be. It sounds deep and thoughtful, but I think it might be more of an excuse to prolong my enjoyment of the candlelight.

I was thinking about rejection. I applied to be commencement speaker this year. I’m graduating college. I didn’t get it and that wasn’t surprising. I think at this point, I’ve applied to and gotten rejected by so many things that I’m a bit numb to the feeling. I see the words “I am sorry to…” give a polite, “oh okay”, sit back down, and finish my tea. If I’d decided to believe in purpose this week, I would’ve said that all of my rejections these past few years have been a plan to rid me of the fear often preceding them. I’m not sure I believe in that this week though. This week I just feel like the universe is being a bitch.

Every thing I go for gives the remarkable impression of being right outside of my reach. I can touch the glimmer of success with the tips of my fingers, but it never glows close enough for me to feel it’s warmth. They told me, as they usually do, of how very close I was. They told me, as they generally do, that the attempt I made was a phenomenal effort. They told me, as they often do, that they enjoyed it so much they were working to give me a consolation prize. I smiled. I thanked them. As I ordinarily do. My stomach fell to my toes (it’s very comfortable there) and I all but laughed aloud at the familiarity. They brought me in to tell me this. They wanted to reject me personally. My inner me keeled over in laughter. How often does something have to happen for it to be routine? How often in my life will I be great, but not great enough?

How is it that I can be everything I want to be and give everything I have to give and it still not be worth anything tangible? I do not feel devalued. I’ve spent too much of my life growing my self esteem to knock it down with things so slight, but still… Occasionally, I have to wonder: what it is about what I want to be that is not great enough to be seen as worthy? If I can do better then so be it, but who is it that decides what is best? Why is my idea of great so different than yours? What is it that you see? What is it that you see in me that’s wrong? Who should I ask for the final word?

I guess it always just reminds me that I’ve gotten more being likable than I have ever gotten from being seen as highly merited. It’s both amazing and slightly disappointing to be seen as less than you see yourself as. It’s humbling as well as discouraging.

My brother says that merit is too relative to certain people to be discouraged by its judgment. “It’s not that you’re not great, it’s that your type of greatness has yet to be seen by the right people.” And then both playfully and seriously he references the history of most great, dead artists…

It’s a funny thing, candlelight. Even playful words seem like painfully dramatic endings…

To You: Sincerely

To You: Sincerely

It wasn’t love
that drew me towards you
But uncertainty
I didn’t see everything I was
But instead
Saw things that I could be
It seems the same people
Are always on my mind
And you are one of three
I don’t understand
How rejection
Could be so attractive to me
I was fascinated by you
Because your world
Seemed so
Easy
You seemed to
Ebb and flow
With the current
Of the simplest simplicity
I could see the waves
Were tainted
Streaked with colors
Of anxiety
But I pulled your finger nails
Gently from your teeth
And kissed them lightly
At least I did in my imagination
I’m not sure
I did really
It seemed
A scary thought
To pull into my
Reality
It sounded
Too concrete
A little unfair
Of me
To present feelings
Of importance
When I couldn’t
commit fully
My thoughts were running
ramped elsewhere
But you pulled them down
right there next to me
I was too entranced by you
To be astounded
Of your interest
in me
I didn’t know you long
But you changed
My thoughts
Completely
I found that I
Became more present
When I focused
On blatant honesty
I was a little lighter
With you
Than I ever thought
I could be
There was no hushed, dark
Sense of revealed secrets
Just pristine
Vulnerability
I may have ran
Too fast toward you
Possibly a bit too
Eagerly
I tend to chase
Beautiful things
Beautiful feelings
Especially
You opened up
my heart
And left a spongy
Piece of you
Inside of me
My intentions
weren’t malicious
Though possibly
Presented poorly
I would love
To say things to you
But I won’t
Because you seem
So happy
And I hope you
Accept my best wishes
Because to you
They’ll always
Be sent
Most sincerely

Dreams

Dreams

When you’re at your most vulnerable, do you find yourself in places that you once knew?
The places you feel like you spent your whole life?
Last night I found myself on Plaina Rd. Looking at the old forgotten rocks that my father placed for desert decoration and running across my old forgotten driveway. It was a simple enough setting. I can’t remember where I was going or who I was with, but I remember when she showed up. Her hair bleached once again, short enough to touch her shoulders. Wearing that green coat she always wore with the furry hood, a somewhat cheap looking edition. She wasn’t the girl I remembered, but she was the one I saw in pictures back when I was missing her. She walked passed me while I was running and I smiled and turned around in her direction. I always knew she would reject me once again, but I always did it just in case she smiled back and I could see my old friend again. She was walking with someone and didn’t stop to talk, but as I always have done, I ran after. She did smile at me. She always does accidentally and I guess that’s why I never stop coming back. She smiled at my silly remarks despite herself while I chased her down, but when I finally caught up to her she turned around and looked at me solemnly. We were stopped in front of my old wire gate, the one that let into the backyard. Nothing but dirt and a swing set, but somehow lovely all the same. And as I smiled at her, a joke hanging at the corner of my mouth, she turns to me and says, “I’m not yours, Faithe.”
I had always told her she was mine. That my world and everything in it was hers because of it. That it was me and her until the end of forever. We’d fight off the world together, and when she got tired of fighting I’d fight for her. And when she got married, to whatever man she chose, I would regale stories of our adventures, smile and give her away. But she had said it. Finally and completely. Words I always knew, but I filtered out of my reality. She started to turn away again, hands in her pockets, she’d walk into a backyard sunset. But before she turned completely, I spoke out.
“Hey,” my voice rang out, the entire front yard was silent as she looked at me the last time. “I wouldn’t want you to be.”
I was surprised at how much truth reverberated in it. I was surprised at my own calm at her words, but I had let her go a long time before and had just never said it. There was a lot of pain I could remember but none of it was present then. I rather her be happy away from me. I rather she love her life in the way she pleases. I rather she feel that love I had always given from the person she wishes it from. I rather let her be ok so I can be ok too.

That Girl

That Girl

I heard she’s beautiful, but distant
I heard she’s everything you’d want a person to be
She’s just not the person you’d want to be it.
I heard that girl is miraculous
They say she may not be who you’d want to be with
But she’s also not the person who’d really notice.
That you thought that way
I heard that loving her was difficult to do
You’d always think more of her than she thought of you
And she’d always see more in you than you ever dared to
So not loving her? Well, that was hard too.
They say that girl is hard not to notice
They say she walks through the room with a type of elegance
They say her presence is as loud as her laugh
That everyone smiles when she walks passed
Because they feel happiness before they see it
They say that girl lives her life out loud
They say her sense of purpose is so clear that when she walks in a crowd
People notice.
I heard people look at that girl with admiration
They say she has no need for external validation
That everything she does seems to exceed their expectations
of what they thought she’d be
And all of that has always fascinated me
How jealous I am of that girl!

Three People

 

image

There are three people that I am
And one person that I wanna be
Trying to move forward
But I get lost in my autonomy
Enraptured by the thought
That I’m whomever I intend to be
Because there are three people that I am
And one person that I wanna be
I’m tryna be the girl who has an idea
Of who she’s tryna be
But there are three people that I am
And all of them are me
One.
I am
A girl with much defiance
See on my friends and family I am forever reliant
But tell me who I ought to be and there’ll be no appliance
Because that’s the girl who knows
She knows that who she is
Isn’t what you know completely
She knows the stretches that her heart makes and the depth of her psyche
And she rather be who she knows and not who she ought to be
But seems to always wish that she thought a bit differently…
She is
One
But I am
Three
Two.
I am always afraid
But the thought of being someone sets my mind ablaze
This girl can see her future, bright and beautiful, and quickly forming in the haze
And lined clearly in front of her are all the paths that she can take
She is the girl who’s perpetually caught in stay
Overwhelmed by possibility she much rather drown in the mundane
Than ever take her chances and still end up being plain
She has been that way since birth
She’s aware that she is someone
But not quite sure of what that’s worth
She is
One
But I am
Three
Three.
I am logically capable and emotionally dependent
This girl’s head tells her to do one thing but then her heart makes her end it
Her heart forms an attachment and her head says to resend it
Constantly trying to distinguish the better from the right thing
She’s Incapable of discerning the exact enemy she’s fighting
From herself
They both seem to cause her problems
She tried to lead them both astray but on her way back they seemed to follow
And knowing that they’re always there make her worry about tomorrow…
But she is one
And I am three.
And none of them are exactly who I want to be.
Because I’m tryna be someone who knows who she’s tryna be
But it seems that I am all three
And all of them are me

A Field

image

Rumi said there was a field where I should meet him
Far beyond wrongdoing and the right
I had told myself that I should seek him there
That I should meet him sometime soon.
And I tell myself often and frequently
but I am a coward
A coward who cowers behind brave like graces
And hides behind courageous faces
And pretends to be galant with words
But then waits for her moment to flee.
Always waiting
Always waiting for Rumi to appear beside me
As if “halfway” is a word meant for peasants and foreigners
As if I’m already there and it is he
Standing on the wrong side of the river
But it is me
Always me
Waiting to flee
And waiting to be found out again