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I can not see it. Sometimes I try. Sometimes I look away. Sometimes I close my eyes, hold my breath and count to ten. Always, I can not see it.

I was once told if you stare into the night sky long and hard enough, you can glimpse it. I found inky blackness, brilliant stars, and blinking lights. Still, I could not see it.

I was once told if you look into yourself deeply enough, you can uncover it. I found inky thoughts, brilliant ideas, and blinking emotions. Still, I could not see it.

I try to hold it. I try to control it. I try to mold it into a shape I find appealing. It slips through my hands. I can not see it.

I know you want me to show it to you. I can not shine a light upon it for you. I can only tell you that it is there. Unavoidable. Unapologetic. Invisible.

Sometimes you just have to trust – trust that when you race into it, it will not destroy you.

Loose ends

Friends? No, we can’t be friends. In a perfect world, that would be perfect. But this is not perfection.

I trusted you. Trusted you to love me. Trusted you to want me. Trusted you to want to be with me. Trusted you to not replace me. Perhaps, more than I have ever trusted anyone.

But now you don’t want to be with me? You’ve decided I’m not good enough for you? You want something more? You’ve bought your happiness at the expense of mine? Friends?

No, we can’t be friends, because I thought we were. Perfect love would forgive you. But this is not perfection.

Colorblind

I sighed in wonder and commented on the lovely blue sky today. You said it looked more gray to you. I agreed. It had a gray tinge to it.

You asked what I wanted to do today. I said spend time with you. You left because I lacked purpose.

I told you I loved you today. You explained how I could prove it. You said you loved me, too.

Today I told myself … Tomorrow I will not want to spend time with you. And I will not love you as much. And the sky will still be blue.

Through the Looking Glass

Trust.

Do you trust me?

I trust you.

Lies. White lies. But truth is imperfect. It has shades and degrees. Shadows as well as light flash in its faceted front.

But I know you do not truly seek the truth. But simply affirmation of what you already believe. I give you that.

In the end, I am simply a reflection.

Do I trust you?

Do you trust yourself?

The Epiphany

This blog has been silent for awhile. This site began as a creative outlet for me to regurgitate thoughts and emotions with anonymity. As such, I have felt an expectation that what I write here be artistic and thought-provoking. Hence the silence. I have about fifteen partially constructed writings which I balled up and tossed in the virtual garbage can emblazoned with the label “BS”. I find myself incapable of being creative. I have nothing of import to say; no wise words to paint for you today. My muse has abandoned my soul.

But I offered a friend some advice and I realized my deeds were not echoing my words. So, this post has no creative value. It is not poetic, inspired, or incredibly intelligent. It is simply me.

80% of the posts on this blog stem from my attempt to deal with the hurt, distrust, and various other emotional leftovers from a bad relationship. During this process, I have been in a new relationship whose hope has counteracted most of the negativity of the past. What flowed onto “paper” was a mixture of the two…until recently.

I woke up one morning, began to write here, and realized that the past lacked the ability to threaten the present or to even snicker at the future. Past was true and simply… past. At some point, I had let go of how I had felt and hadn’t even noticed the subtle transition.

I slid my fingers from the keyboard and stared at the blank page in bafflement. The end of a chapter. Close the book. The end.

Bubbles of Our Own Making

How long have I been trapped behind these walls? Floating around. Waiting. Anxious for you to release me from this past-barred prison. I pound my fists and beg for mercy. I cry out to you. You laugh. You sigh. You leave.

My tears mingle with these walls. Flowing down. Pooling. A physical testimony to the well of pain and emptiness you left behind. I sink to my knees and pray for mercy. I ask for peace. I plead. I sigh. I laugh.

My breath shatters these walls. Disappearing completely. Gone. My only memento of my captivity is knowledge. I was my keeper. My jailer. My pardon. I am free at last.

A Quiet Roar

Silence.

Does it even truly exist?

I sit here listening for the noiseless vacuum that must follow in your absence. I cannot hear it. It is overridden by the pulsing of blood through my veins. A throbbing of need for things unknown… unnamed. A cry that needs no vocal accompaniment.

Silence.

Do you think I do not hear you?

You scream with your lack of words. It reverberates through my soul. It rattles my spirit and shatters my heart without a sound. It is louder than mere phonemes strung together…shouts of meaning without sound waves.

Silence. Blessed. Blissful. Lost.

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