I thought I thoroughly customized my request for a new pair of shoes and a level of maturity that I cannot currently attain of my own volition.

Watch them. They are so easily pleased, so horribly content in normalcy, and so often unaware of your watchful gaze. And I am just an aunt. I wonder how my brother feels. His heart must be exploding. I wonder exactly what age is the age of realization, when you can look in your parent’s eyes and tell them thanks for all they did and thanks for all they still do. When you realize even 1/4th of their love for you is really all you need, but still they give you more. They give you all they have. I don’t know if I can be as giving as my parents are. I don’t know if I can overcome me (I’m a little stubborn at times). But I’ll tell you a little secret if you really want to know. One day, I hope to win.

I say that but I don’t know if I really mean it, or if I really even know what I mean, or if I am temporarily blinded by semi-enthusiastic love. I don’t even know if it matters much, if this continual ever-changing pattern of wind will ever find itself forcefully blowing me in a permanent direction. Right now, I guess it doesn’t really matter much, because the ending is the only carrier of prominent weight. Too bad my view is just fuzzy enough to hinder foresight. Poop.

I thought I saw a puppy in the clouds today. He was running, much like me. Fleeing should be the word that I use, only because of its connotation. I feel I am fleeing more than facing this situation, but I don’t know if my own decision will come back to haunt me, to chase me into the older years of my life, to see me standing looking in the mirror with only one reflection. No companion. No other. No nothing.

Still I am utterly content. I am unbelievably happy. I am unwavering in becoming this love. In finding more than the tip of my finger in someone’s face. In finding someone else’s fingertip hovering inches from my nose. I hope she understood exactly what I meant to say when I described this alternate viewpoint. I hope she just accepts it as it is instead of trying to justify it or try to pick it apart. Isn’t that what we so often do with His love when we should just be simply accepting it. Goodness, why do we complicate these simple things?

I am addicted and I am not afraid to admit it. Yes, indeed I am counting down to 9-29-09. I think about it everyday. Yep, I just admitted the depth of this obsession. I love to admit personal lameness. Somehow it is funny to me. I laugh at myself. Sometimes I call myself names. But I know I can take it. It is just my form of personal motivation.

I have always been told, by myself mind you, that I have somewhat of an addictive personality. I also have discovered that I am a habit former. I like routine. It is relaxing. It is organized. It pushes me to become more dedicated. And if anything it makes my spontaneity a little bit more, well spontaneous. And festive. And fun. And crazy. And fill-in-the-blank. Pretty much a lot of different things.

When I break, I break. I think it is true when it comes to trust. Maybe not relationships so much, I am not too well versed in that ball of complicatedness. Honestly, I think people make it more complicated than it really is. Love isn’t complicated, it is easy. Dying to self is what trips people up really. Love isn’t selfish in the least. I guess maybe I should try to apply that line of thought to trust. Wouldn’t I become better from it? I think I would. Damn you fear! You keep me from something beautiful, from something wholly beneficial. Maybe one day when I break, I will break big time, but I am willing to risk it if I could just find someone else who wants to put all their chips in. Cause that’s the only way I am going to play this love game.

Thoughts Untamed

And I fell once into an open plain.
And I found myself unmoving, insane.
Be still these thoughts that break from the mundane.
They make me wonder if I can stand this same old same.
This over repetition of the unmasked blame.
Of the self proclaiming stares of unmasked shame.

I belittled the thought for a moment.
Sought closure, but never owned it.
Derived from hints and shown bits
The truth of this annulment.
And still I avoid it.
And now I am void of it.

In these moments that stand still
I can see my heart transparently ill
Seeking something more than this false will
That drives me forward unfilled
And takes this whole of a heart unskilled
And brings it back to life, unkilled.

Now I sit and I write.
Filled with undying spite.
Looking to chase the darken night
Away with manufactured light.
Replacing that, which I cannot find anymore.
It hides its face in this horrible blur
And still I am this question-filled cur.
Indecisive, never established, always unsure.