As I gradually approach a down period, I feel it’s time to let loose some stream of consciousness.
Once there was a man, and inside this man was a box where he kept all of his innermost feelings; the turmoil in his heart raged here. This box was hot to the touch, yet I felt the need to keep reaching for it. This man is not who you think he is. He is what he thinks you want him to be, but not what he feels he should be. He is a shell of his former self. He is a stranger to his own reflection.
The love I hold in my heart for him burns brightly, but his eyes which are the windows to his souls are shaded, blinds drawn closed. He ignores or just does not see.
This man is torn. This man is broken.
Yet I continue to reach for him. I try to hold enough hope for the both of us, but my hope is stretched too thin and I begin to hide away in myself.
I find my safe place in space where he and I belong. His heart glows brightly burning in the dark and I gravitate towards him. The heat of his touch warms my spirit, inside and out.
But just as quickly as I embrace my safe space, it is ripped away from me. Back to reality. Back to the hurt. Back to the silence that envelopes me in pacificity.
Day by day, it’s all the same. I drown in the quiet, hour by hour.
Dreaming of the day when I can expand…when I can stretch myself to far off lands and swim in the milk and honey of solace. The day when the tension no longer pressures my mind into a corner and suppresses it.
The day when the box inside the man is left ajar and his soul, his sweetness and his common sense fly free once more….and he is no longer a prisoner of his own ego.
That will be the day when I can find true happiness.