Friday, April 26, 2013


    I have never been in love but I often wonder what it's like. It sounds wonderful, yet awful. Empowering, yet crippling. Liberating, yet confining. Being "in love" is much more than feeling love for someone else. It's exposing your soul, knowing that you face the risk of being betrayed or exploited. It's about sharing weakness with another person. It's about compromise and forgiveness; acceptance. It's about giving someone permission to hold your fragile, palpitating heart in their hands, hoping that they care for it delicately. Love stripes away all the facades and exposes your darkest secrets, reveals your innermost fears. You are left naked and under scrutiny of the one you bestowed with love. And it's terrifying. But then the fear melts away as you're encased by comforting arms and affection kisses. Trust is so closely tied with love; it's what holds people together like adhesive tape. Yet it's such a delicate, easily broken attachment. People are so often tempted to sever it; which is why love seems to be short lasting. 
     When I think about this ineffable idea that has prevailed throughout the history of mankind, it evokes a myriad of emotions: confusion, anticipation, and fear. I don't understand it because I have never experienced it; and thus I look forward to when I finally do. However, I am scared of it because my trust in people has been shattered; I am an agglomeration of broken nerves and cynicism. Sometimes I wonder if my faith will ever be restored. Sometimes I wonder if there will be anyone willing to reach beyond the tangled thorns of my mistrust to my unattainable heart. Oh, I shouldn't trouble myself with thoughts about the indefinite future. I know that when I find love, my fear and reserve will deliquesce, and I will forget I was ever scared at all. 


Wednesday, April 24, 2013

On Artistic Integrity

     I created this blog because I wanted a new start. I wanted to break away from my other blog, which was very similar to this one but less personal. This blog contains my whimsical thoughts and innermost secrets. And since its inception, very few people seem to read it. That is partially my fault. I used to be an active member of the blogging community but now I live in the shadows, writing to open air. I feel my words faltering and falling back into the darkest depths of my mind. They are unheeded and I am left feeling unsatisfied. And then I wonder, am I writing for myself or for others? I write to express myself but do my words have validity if no one is reading them? I feel disappointed when my work is neglected because I feel people can benefit from my musings. I also feel like I'm not good enough, which discourages me from even attempting to continue this blog. But if I'm good at one thing, it's persevering. So I'm going to keep writing, regardless of how many readers I attract and the popularity of my blog. I'm going to keep writing because that's all I can do. 


Photo by me.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Why Have You Left Me Alone?

     I have written so much about you, even though I promised myself I would no longer waste any more words on you. How could I not though? I am so deeply affected by what you did to me that I can't help but pour my soul out through writing. You probably never think about me anymore and that thought pains me. Because whenever I hear your name or see your face, my grief vibrates throughout my bones and wrenches my heart. My body longs for you; but my mind is the only thing keeping me from falling to your feet and begging you to come back, back, back to me. I know better. But I can't help but feel weak when I'm near you. 
     I have this fantasy that one day, after a year or two of not speaking, our paths will yet again intertwine. I imagine us sitting somewhere and reflecting on what we used to be. Why do I have this terrible feeling that something like that would never happen? Why do I have this horrible instinct that we'll never speak again? It pains me to think of such awful things but I can't help it. The day we parted ways, I made it clear I didn't want to be anything, not even friends. And while I don't know if I regret that yet, I do know that I ruined our chances of ever being even acquaintances again. 
     How strange it is to go from something to absolutely nothing. In a mere hour, we severed all the ties between us. I watched you walk away from me without looking back. I watched our affection turn to dust and fall through my fingertips. I knew it was for the best. I still know that now. But I still mourn. I mourn because you never gave me a chance. I mourn because you never let me try and chip away at the wall you built around yourself. Even when we embraced and kissed and touched, even when I was the closest I could physically get to you, the barrier still remained. Tears are welling up in my eyes as I write this. You always said you were curious about how I looked when I was sad; well here is your opportunity. Look upon this tangle of shattered illusions and inconsolable sorrow. 

Photo taken by me.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Start Another Story

     I had given up the hope that I'd ever find someone worthwhile of my affection. It seemed to me that no matter how many people I met, no one interested me. I felt hopeless but reassured myself that someone I could like would come to me if I was patient. And then I met you.
     It was a Friday night. I walked into my friends house and was greeted by a group of familiar faces. There were a few people there that I didn't know, you being one of them. We introduced ourselves briefly and that was all. You went somewhere else as I effusively greeted my friends. It wasn't until later that I began to realize your lingering gazes. They made me shiver with delight and satisfaction. But I didn't think anything of it, aside from the fact that I had somehow caught your attention.
     A few of us were outside in the small but lovely backyard, standing around a table donned with plastic cups. You were next to me and offered to be my partner for the game. I accepted. And this is when I began to see what was so obscure to me at the beginning of the night. You kept leaning into me and whispering tips and strategies into my ear. Your fingers lingered on mine when handing me the ping pong ball. I noticed in your voice a gentle softness that I have never come across in a man. I stole quick glances at you throughout the rest of the game and began to feel the blossoming of a great tenderness within my breast. I felt the impulse to reach out and touch you, just to reassure that you were real, that this wasn't some fictitious illusion. For so long I have been deceived by the facades of other men. But for once, I felt like I had met someone who was the same person inside and out. 
     I haven't seen you since that fateful night, yet the memory of you continues to haunt me. Such a thing has never happened to me before; I would be a fool not to pursue it.

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These pictures were taken by me. Click on them to be directed back to the original source.