Platonic Signs Of Devotion

I mourn for all the women that were misunderstood in the past. The women who wanted to live their lives without the restraint of man telling them how they should live. Women who were burned alive for no reason other than they were born the wrong gender. Women who spoke their minds and were persecuted because their beliefs were different.

I will mourn for all the women who live after me. Women in the future will face the same things we have been experiencing for thousands of years. I have never considered myself a ‘feminist’. After years and years though, you’d think that something would change. If it hasn’t changed yet…why would anything ever be any different?

Do you realize how difficult it is for me to put myself first? I have lived in the shadow of everyone I have ever been with. I have made myself smaller trying to fit in and be everything that they need, always. 

Now, is the time for me. It took me thirty years to finally acknowledge this. I will lose people in doing so. I will have to put my own feelings ahead of everyone else. 

Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin. How do I learn to not care about how I make everyone else feel? How do I do what I need to do to heal and become this better version of me? How do I even be me?

Who am I, really?  

Starved for affection

‘There are thousands of children starving in Africa’. I was told this throughout my childhood, when I refused to eat dinner. How does my eating help those in need across the Atlantic? It doesn’t, it never did.

How about what I was starved for? It wasn’t food or love. I was told ‘I love you’ by my family every day. Affection, physically, that is a whole other story. My father worked all day weekdays and we rarely saw him. Even on weekends, he had other hobbies. I was raised in church, that god awful place, so we got to see him on Sundays. But he was an outdoorsy person and I hated the outdoors. My mother, on the other hand, well she was a deeply unhappy person. Struggled with depression and so gracefully handed it down to her daughters. We rarely saw her either, she slept her days away. Physical touch, that was rare. I grew up in a ‘loving home’, but the love wasn’t shown, only spoken.

So, i learned that physical touch was an option, not needed. Rarely wanted. It has really fucked up my adult life. Any relationship I’ve ever been in hasn’t been romantic in the slightest. Sex, well that’s what a man needs. It’s not affectionate, never will be. It is something to pacify those urges so they don’t look elsewhere. Me, a deeply sexual person now. It’s awful. It just feels wrong when I have urges for well, anything. I loathe being touched in any way, yet I crave it. I guess I feel the need to be touched. I just don’t trust anyone to touch me the right way.

If affection has never been shown to you, you learn to live without it.

Humans are silly little things. They make up higher beings in their minds so that death doesn’t seem too scary in the end. It helps them go to sleep, dreaming that when they die they’ll have someplace else to go. Silly creatures they are, death is death. The end. Nothing comes after.

When I have no ideas for putting together the thoughts that need to read aloud by others, I like to pretend that it is not my time yet for my words, thoughts, feelings to be put out in the world. Please, give me a sign when it is my time to emerge from my subconscious once again. These thoughts are slowly drowning me and must be set free.

His eyes,

Blue as the sky on a stormy day.

Her eyes,

Hazel like the sodden ground beneath.

He is beautiful, in all the strange ways.

She is pure chaos, all sharp teeth.

They will never belong together.

Not in this lifetime.

Two almost lovers bound to roam forever.

So they dream of sometime…

I believe in magic.

Not like the magic in fairytales, full of dragons and spells.

I believe in the magic of those small moments.

I believe in the magic of a dandelion growing in the crack of asphalt.

The moment between your inhale and my exhale.

Finding a constellation in the sea of millions of stars.

The way your eyes light up like a stormy sky.

The dew on the early morning grass.

Magic is what makes this world go ‘round.

I’m so thankful to be a part of these small magical moments.

I don’t believe you. I won’t ever believe you. I trust you wholeheartedly in everything you say; just not when you say that I am wanted. I’ve heard that too many times before, just to be left behind because I’m just too much. Too loud, too clingy, too excited, too sensitive…too much. Don’t get me wrong, I really want to believe you. But I’ve been let down so many times, I’m just waiting for you to get tired of me as well.

Love. A tiny little word, with an infinite amount of meanings. Good morning: I love you. How are you: I love you. I hope you have a great day: I love you. I see you are hurting: I love you. I thought this was funny, I need to show you: I love you. This reminded me of you: I love you. Love is in everything I say to you, when I can’t write: I love you.

I don’t think about it often. Usually just on two dates in the year. But sometimes out of nowhere it punches me in the chest.

It has been nine years since I’ve lost you. I won’t ever get to know who you may have been. I don’t talk about you, I’m not sure how to.

This grief will never end.