Growth The Wrong Way

We listen, to every lie they tell us. We aren’t ones to become anything but what they tell us. Longing, searching for someone to take away our fears, only because someone added the earworm of love. 

A worm, what a fascinating idea, burrows deep beneath your cranium to hate everything you are, from some uninteresting notion of what someone else has said. Long before this, where were our own thoughts? We are not anyone else without the other in our life. Even without one beating heart to wrap your senses around, you long for it or do the things we don’t realize others are buried upon up. Nothing is our own, nothing at all. Our personal epiphanies come from other’s ideas first, where do you think the things you know come from? Where do we believe the things that don’t realize they are thoughts, go? Opinions are our thoughts of easy-breezy nothingness. The nothingness of our own hearts, beating veins in our body’s personal reflection. Birthing another in our image is what seems to be all we want. Some say that the idea that we don’t really think about the long-term situation come nevermore to the end of everything. Growth in the wrong direction, our highway has been stopped, consumed but the only thing that can penetrate the cranium, the thoughts of the others… Those thoughts are the creation of another, the long line of “telephone” from our ancestors that has no breath. Our perpetual motion of advancement only comes from what came before us and what came from before that. How do we connect our dots together without our own release of nothingness? The blackness of nothing, so comforting. Better than the alternative of only being everyone else. We are all the same, no matter what we think. No one is unique, no one is anything but what came before. We must have always been. How do we concluded the nothingness that is so peaceful, the nothingness that must come when we are no longer in this perpetual decree of others.

What if growth, the right way, away from others from ideas of others, the one before and before. The nothingness of blackness wouldn’t we be in a better place, gone from the nothing and be something? 

And again these thoughts plague my days, never letting me rest.

The Kiss

It wasn’t our first kiss. It wasn’t even our most passionate kiss, but it was a kiss that changed everything.

For months I was trying to move past the fact that I still had, even after all the years I’ve known him, powerful feelings for him. Fairly recently, I came to the conclusion that I can not let him go, and he will always be in my life no matter what. I’d rather be on his roller-coaster than anyone else’s.

The first time I saw him after this realization, he made my heart jump and my knees weak. He looked and smelled just as I remembered; his eyes were just as full of compassion and familiarity. The feeling of his hug took me back in time to the sense of perfection. His smile helped the setting sun, shine.

Our conversation, although shorter than usual, was easy following with laughter and friendly banter. We caught up with each other’s lives, and there may have been a few pauses as I stumbled over my words. As we tried to leave, since we both had to get back on the road to home, we talked, and each topic turned into a new topic.

As we were saying goodbye, we exchanged pleasantries and hopeful words. With our goodbye hug came the blank mind as I felt where our bodies touch, everywhere tingled and I could tell my body did not want to lose the connection. The hug grew longer and tighter, and his left arm found its way to around my waist, and my breath became shallow. We breathed together in the same rhythm, in the same space as neither of us wanted to break. As we pulled back from one another, something changed, something in his eyes, something that I never could place, but have seen before.

With each look, he hesitates as he moves his lips towards mine. I could tell he wasn’t quite sure if he should or not. I knew with every fibre of my being I wanted to kiss him. As my stomach started to twist and turn, I leaned up towards him, giving him a subtle hint. Our lips met, and I could feel it all the way to my toes. A shiver pulsed through my body as I put my hand on his hip and slightly pulled his shirt, thus him, closer towards me.

My body was giggling as he pulled away and then processed to flower me with little kisses. With each kiss, the sensation of tying knots with my insides was overwhelming with the flip-flopping of my stomach. They were the sweetest kisses from the most loving man, and I was leaving for a completely different city. How do I deal with that?

With our final goodbye, we just looked at each other with our hands intertwined. I walked away and let go of the most amazing man I have ever met. Turning around, I could barely take in my surroundings, my head was light, and everything seemed a little blurry. Once I got into my car, and the moment came rushing back, I almost started to cry. I am not entirely sure, however, if they would have been out of joy or sadness.

With the absolute emotional mess, I’d become in those few seconds, I needed to drive away so that he wouldn’t see me. I didn’t want him to see me start to come undone. Driving away, I looked back to his car, wishing I could just give him one more hug. Turning the corner away from him, I started to shake, and an overwhelming chill hit me. All my brain could process was the kiss and the crushing awareness that I had no idea what he was really thinking or what actually happened.

Can I Pick The Way?

There was a soft glow that loved to linger just upon my face; it made me think of you and how I had placed you up on my pedestal of perfection. As the memories fester within my mind, I wonder why you couldn’t kiss me with meaning or have the need to listen. I have basked here far too long to raise my lost hopes within your perpetual secrets.

I see nothing but you, and the ridiculous love I’ve felt for so long. It slithers up on my emotions even after I thought it was limited. It lingers and wishes for more, even after a decade of forgotten kisses. I can’t catch that glimmer in your eye that says you don’t crave me, yet you hold me at a distance; one that you would inevitably perish if you dared to cross. My beating vein does break, every year, every day, every hour, every second you don’t indulge. My mentality wavers every sunset or sunrise; one does race within it and never does win to lose. Why can’t I: pick the way you love me and pick the way you want me.

As you ramble off what I believe by every definition to be the epitome of intelligent and meaningful, I fall relentlessly into unspoiled love. The few instants we steal away together are by far the finest I would ever have the honour of sharing with another. Without exception, I tumble firmly into what I’d call raw devotion where I’d yearn to sleep beneath your wing. Each breath I savour as a sweet melody that blankets the frost the loneliness leaves behind. One beat, two beats, three beats; I count each as a beloved reward given for your enduring journey of complete perfection.

I have perished from this perpetual deception, and the deceit has adopted a circular formation whereas it never does waiver unless I apathetically abandon any notion of reality.