Quando non sei qui vicino, sei ancora con me.

Quando non volgio andarci da sola , ci andrò con te.
Quando non posso vederti più, a te penserò e ci riuscirò.
Quando il buio scende, voleremo al sole portati sulle ali dell’amore.
Fuggiremo dal mondo, dalla sua tristezza,
Dall’odio della gente, da tutto che c’è di male.

Love is an impossible thing, impossible to figure out, impossible to be without.

My sister came to visit me today. It left my heart feeling unusually warm. I love that she is my sister, that we are more honest with each other than most people, that she shows me parts of me that others don’t, things that I want and should change that aren’t necessarily up to par.

We ran a lot of errands. That is our thing, hop from store to store buying things that we need that we don’t want to go shopping for by ourselves because it is much more fun going with someone you love. We went to world market and bought two baskets, one for each of our parents, and we filled them up with random things that we thought they would like. From Christmas ornaments to chocolate-y treats and beyond we filled it with things that reminded us of them.

Perhaps we were driven by our morning conversation over coffee. I don’t know how we got on the subject of one day being with out them, or the possibility of one day one of them being without the other and how hard it would be for them. Though sad, you have to think of these things. They spur you forward to a consciousness that everyday is valuable, that nothing should be taken for granted. You never really know how much longer you will have with someone. So if you love them you should tell them. And not just once so that you can check it off of your list of things to do, but everyday, in some way small or big. It doesn’t matter how you say it, but THAT you say it.

Boxing Shadows in a Windowless Room

Goodness gracious. You sit right across from me and still you remain out of my grasp. Am I this unfortunate in finding this thing? This love? But still I can’t say I know you, I can’t say I know what your heart feels, what your mind thinks, what you want to become. But I will say, if you will tell me I will be able to either put these lost feelings to rest or I will give you my whole heart entirely. Don’t you see love is risky? Love makes us vulnerable, opens us up to possible feelings of pain. But that risk is nothing if you go all in, if you set all your chips on the table to find that in the end you and you alone remain with the best possible "hand." And this game, this game you play called love has just been won by the five cards sitting unmoved in your hand. And those cards turn into fingers that connect to a hand that joins you to the arm of the person you love. And in this you find what you have been looking for. In this you find that risk doesn’t always end in loss. In this you find the reality of true love. That it is unwavering, steadfast, not easily shaken, deeper than the shallowness of feelings, stronger than the force that rages against it, and more than you could have ever asked it to be. This is love at its core. This is what melts the hardest hearts of stone. This is what fills the emptiest emptiness. This is what changes the world.

Changing seasons...

Pumpkin Spice Latte = Love.

The windows to the soul are not the eyes. They are the sometimes-indistinguishable minute words scribbled down on small scraps of paper and mailed to friends who live in different states, different countries. You don’t have to look for my soul; I’ll show it to you if you want to see it.

Writing letters is soothing; sharing your heart is a little nerve-racking, being loved is the best feeling ever, loving others feels even better than being loved.

My sister baked me a pumpkin pie and dropped it by the house when she visited last weekend. It made me smile. She really wanted to buy Coolwhip. I didn’t. (Coolwhip is really only good with strawberries.) The pie ended up going bad because we forgot to refrigerate it for 3 days. Oops. But that didn’t even really matter, the fact she made it just for me was enough.

There is a couple sitting across from me in the coffee shop. They aren’t talking. There is no need. They are simply sitting. His leg is on her lap; her hand is in his. They are perfectly content with being. That’s what I’m looking for. I’m not looking for anything unrealistic, over-romantic, or unobtainable. I want the sugar in the raw- it doesn’t look fancy, it isn’t refined, but it is better for you than the pretty looking stuff. It’s raw, it’s real, but still tastes great.

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.

It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s alright.

This is one of the hardest things I have ever faced. And now that I am in the midst of it, it seems overwhelmingly difficult- unable to be overcome. But this lie that creeps up is just that. A lie. A misstep. A confusing concoction of unequivocal falsehood. And still I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it.

These thoughts are far to outreaching, untamable. I wish only to sit with a blank expression on my face until I am able to find the time to retrace this path that has evidently led to nowhere- a vast place of heartache and lost things. Lost feelings. Lost desires. Lost loves. And still I wish only to lose more. To lose these self- constructed walls that block me. Losing personal standards would be much easier. But where would that get me? Would I regret it like I think I would? Or would I see it simply as a lesson learned after all is said and done? I think I would see it as something that I have finally faced and walked through; and even if I come out battered, I would know that I did it. I walked through and I am not dead.

This sheltered mentality is suffocating me. Is this what He meant for me to do? How He meant for me to live? It is hard to think the answer would actually be yes.
Am I allowed to apologize now in advance for something I may do in the future? They say no, but still I consider it. Apparently, I am worse than they think I am. But, my God, I am only human.

This end is unforeseeable.



“A life perfect ain’t perfect if you don’t know what the struggle’s for. Falling down ain’t falling down if you don’t cry when you hit the floor. It’s called the past, cause I’m getting past and I ain’t nothing like I was before. You ought to see me now. Yes I was burned, but I’ve called it a lesson learned. Mistake overturned so I’ve called it a lesson learned. My soul has returned so I’ve called it a lesson learned. “ A.Keys.

And I saw a bit of myself in a hazy imagination

Fault-filled failures follow me everywhere. Yet still I live in this acceptance. This love that is unconfined. This love that heals the blind hearts of men and makes them more than they are. It is gradually becoming more difficult to turn my thoughts from this ideal. But it is not a bad thing. Beneficial and balanced I say. Upside-down and uncontrolled they say. Yet their words do not phase me. I am undaunted by this simple task. It is so easy. And still I may be wrong. I may live incorrect but this is the manner in which my heart drives me. The end result which will build up and not tear down. Where are your accusers He said. They are not here, and neither do I condemn you. So what has this become this view of judgmental arrogance. This pointing of pointer fingers and heavy sighs accompanied my gentle downward-facing shakes of the head. Who am I to say anything? Just as they dropped their stones one by one and left, so I leave. Knowing that I can only seek inside myself to be aware of my own faults. Why seek the mistakes of others? To feel better about myself? There is no need. I feel better about myself resting in the knowledge of who I am, who I am becoming, and whom I belong to. My mind is still struggling a bit, but I would dare say that He is all I need. That He is who I wish to become. Not a judgmental thing, but Love, a Love so wholly embodied, personified and life-giving. This is what I want to be. This is who I will continue to become.

And quite frankly, I will never know why.

I fell into a river muddied with dirt and caught my reflection staring back at me from the small pool confined in the palms of my dirt-smattered hands. Sadly, the murky water was cleaner than I was. And I am this sinful thing, but still He redeems me.

Take it slow. These things needn’t be rushed. Time will reveal the unseen. Love alone will heal this broken heart, because, honestly, nothing else can.

I found it... if just for this short time.

I've found it- this peace I was seeking.
My heart isn't as confused, it just is.
It is love, and I will rest in this for now.
I will discover the answers without seeking.
I will break this off of me- it is far too hindering.
So I've let it go. It is gone, and Love resides in its place- safe and warm.

I fought a pigeon for his last breadcrumb. Unfortunately, I lost.

And what good does this bring, this absence of heart, this empty feeling? It makes me realize I can make it without you, but I would much rather not. I would much rather see you daily, hear your thoughts, and learn your heart more than you usually let people learn it. But I can’t, and well, I fear you won’t let me. It is because you know that I am hiding something. Perhaps you think it is lack of trust that drives me not to tell you this thing, but I trust you a great deal. This time it’s true when I say, “It isn’t you; it’s me.”

I am still too chicken to do this, to knowingly await this impending judgment. It is the only thing that will occur; I am not stupid.
I am still too unwilling to do this, to risk this thing for such a great uncertainty. I can’t say that this is what I really want; I never desired this thing before.
I am still too cynical to do this, to believe that “love” could be enough this time. Because my love and your love are two different loves, and well if one side fails the whole thing falls apart. And knowing me, I will be the one holding on as you walk quietly away.

People give up far too easily. Why can’t we really mean it when we make promises? Is it too hard? Are we too afraid of the foreseeable hurt that we ditch at the first opportunity to do so? At least that way we won’t have to see it through, to really risk our hearts.

With that said, I promise I will always love you, even if it isn’t the way I wish it could be. Know this, you will always, always have my heart.

And I told you for the second time not to love me. You never listen. I love you for that.

I am walking backwards with ease, finding this newness different. My eyes are of no use. They only see what has been; only my heart can imagine what could be.
I dream. I dream. I dream.

Realized dreams are little pieces of me lived out to their fullness, come alive through struggle and sweat, through hope and faith, through mere chance which oddly enough seems perfectly planned.
Planned chance? And the confusion rises again.

Endless struggle attempts to break me from these romantic ideals, but still I believe in them. Silly fool. You are just like the others, the ones you claim not to resemble. The ones you fight so strongly against. You are going to fall hard and you know it. But still you repress and still you hide, lying all the while to protect your heart. It is more fragile than they think. So breakable.

This will become a new thing, this false disbelief. Will someone please prove me wrong? Will someone please stand inches from my face and make me realize there is more. There is a better that has no painful end, no emptiness, no loss of heart.
So would you leave it, never risk it, never become the vulnerability that you very much want, but very much fear?

Dear man, good heart… no.

Life is beautifully different when you see it from someone else’s viewpoint.

I keep finding these people. These beautiful people who are passionate about this and that. Beautiful people who just want to tell someone what they think, what they feel, and why they are what they are. I love it when people muster up the courage to say what they really think. She told me things she hasn’t even told to her friend, she whispered to me as she pointed to one sitting next to her. I liked it. But why was she afraid of hiding?

And so this judgment comes back to haunt us in the worst way possible.

When did we get to the point that we are perfectly ok with telling strangers deeper things than we tell our friends solely because we fear what our friends will think of us? We question whether they would still accept us, whether they would still love us- just as we are, bruised and broken, with a wavering certainty that leaves us wondering more times than it leaves us convinced and sure. Aren’t friends the ones who help you through things like this? When did we get this way?

A friend once asked me who I spoke of when I said “ Ma io voglio che tu lo sai, che mi chiedi tutto quello che vuoi sapere.” My answer was not a complete lie. Yah sure I had a certain person in mind at the time, but I think it is applicable most to my friendships. I want to be able to tell my friends everything. But just like her I hide things from my friends because I fear a little. I am afraid of changing things irreparably. I am afraid I will lose them. Losing friends is like losing part of your heart; it hurts. And I don’t deal with hurt well.

This is such a hard thing to balance.

I want to find a good friend, make a mutual promise with them to be absolutely honest about everything, the things hidden deepest inside our hearts, the things we think we can tell no one about, and even the things we don’t want to be honest about. That kind of vulnerability is what I want. I am willing to put myself into a position to get effed over, if just to have one true friend that I can trust completely. I’ve always struggled with trust. I fear it may be difficult to find someone who will actually commit to do that, someone willing to love me no matter what. People don’t like being vulnerable. I know this cause I don’t either. But if we can just make this about love and not about us, it will work. I know it will.

Without you, I'm giving it away.

I have built up a wall to block you away, to fight you off. I have made it with the thickest of cement blocks and wired the top with barbed wire. Yet still you find a way around. You alone get through to me. I hate it, but not you. Never you. In fact, I adore you.

I do things I never planned if just to let you know how much you mean to me. All you have to do is ask and I will be there, you know. Maybe now you have begun to see it. Maybe now I will find the courage I am so desperately lacking. Maybes never mean much do they? Because maybe I will stay here in this unexplainable state, afraid of your reaction, afraid of my future action, afraid of missing this opportunity, afraid of being judged for this, afraid of being afraid. Or maybe I won’t. The possibilities of the “maybe” are far too many to wade through and discern with ease. So I struggle. Oh where will I begin? When will this end? When will this heart cease to feel this way? When will it finally feel more?

This sucks ass.

“By the way you brought me here, it makes me believe the best is still yet to come
and I don't want to leave. Forgive my hesitation- oh, but I'm learning to trust in you.You've introduced me to the moment, oh but I'm looking to stay for good. If you'd be honest and say what you mean you know I would promise I'd do anything. I know there's a reason. I'm in this too deep and I'm sure that without you, I'm giving it away.”

And now what will I become?

I don’t like the reflection I see when I look in the mirror sometimes, but I know it is ok because I am not going to remain this way forever. This mindset of uncontrollable urges to do crazy things may one day fade, but I pray my sense of adventure stays with me always. I find time knows so much more than me about healing a heart. I think I use too much gauze and too many bandages when a simple band-aid would do. I over think things too much. I know things have gone past the point of crazy infatuation to a point of simple friendship-driven love, but I still want to tell you how I feel/felt about you, if just to make you realize how special I think you are. I think the world of you. I do. But I know nothing could ever come of this in the long run, although the short-term joy seems almost worth it. I wonder what you would think about it. I wonder what you would say if I told you. I wonder what you would do if I tried to step inside your personal bubble of space. If I tried to make you realize the extent of my sentiments that I carried for oh so long. It would be my last hurrah. I wonder, but I don’t want to act on it cause I fear my romantic ideals are far better than any realistic expectancy I could hope for. So I will sit here and let my mind run wild, let me heart run free.

And now I see it for what it really is.

I thought I knew what it was that I missed. I thought I missed you, but it was not what I thought it was. I was a little bit blinded by my desire to remain living uninhibited; that I began to seek something I don’t really want. It was guised as something else, something more. But it isn’t. It is love. Nothing more. Love, plain & simple. Love that just wants to love. I look on the idea now with a different sentiment. My heart has turned itself in another direction, not away from you, but alongside you. Seeking to walk with you, to encourage you when you need it, to make you smile when you feel down, to be there when no one else will. I think I just want to love you - who you are, who you will one day become (it will be something great you know). I see so much in you. I hope you see it too. I hope you see how beautiful you are, how gentle your heart is, how brilliantly bright your soul is. I hope you know that no matter what I will always be here, your friend, to support you, to listen to you, to care for you, to love you. Always, always, to love you. To love you as you should be loved- wholeheartedly. You deserve nothing less. In fact, you deserve more. So much more. You deserve the best.

Contentment washes over me, and I am pleased.

No matter what will happen I will live in this moment- this moment of feeling constant joy pile up upon itself. I am always fighting back these feelings of joy and happiness, if I let them take over I will be a useless pile of smiles and laughter. No one would be able to reach me. I would stare into space and be content with the shade of brown that occupies the surface of the walls in the room. I would smile until my cheeks hurt so much so that I would be unable to continue. So I shall keep them walled-off, just a little bit, a reservoir of contentment and joy, kept inside, but still they are there, always there, at my beck and call.
They make every situation seem “not as bad as it could have been.”
They make every disappointment “alright.”
They make every failure “next time you will do better.”
They make everything “OK.”

It will always be this way. It is this way because I rest in the knowledge that I am loved. And love is stronger than anything that I could face- abandonment, failure, inadequacies, tragedy, & disbelief. Love consumes the bad in every situation, every thing & every one. It cannot be defeated, and personally I don’t want to try to fight it. So come Love, heal our hearts, make us more than we currently are. Make us you personified.

I don’t know which road to take, so I won’t take either. I will sit here on the side of the road and wait...

...wait for something beautiful.

I don't believe in these vague possibilites, but I am not going to try to change you or myself. I am going to love you just as you are, and nothing will change that. Nothing can change that. The force of the impossibility of the thing is greater than anything else that could posses my heart. This love does not waiver. It is not dependent on you. It is not dependent on me. It alone survives through the storms that beat us down. Through the times full of hate, pain, regret, distraction, empty words & broken promises. It alone holds us up when we grow weak. When we find ourselves directionally challenged. It alone turns us into something great. Something we never thought we would become- an essential part of someone’s heart, someone's soul.

I miss you when you aren’t here. When you aren’t next to me. When you are far enough that your voice cannot successfully travel the distance to reach my ears. When I can’t feel your hand in mine. When I can’t put my ear to your chest to feel your heart beating, slow and rhythmic. When I can’t see your smile- it brightens my life. When I can’t hear your laughter- it lightens my mood, makes my heart glad.

I dream of you sometimes. I remember once I sat across from you at a coffee shop. We spoke of life. You told me your secrets and I told you mine. We laughed till it hurt. Your foot touched mine under the table. I didn’t mind. And as we stood from the table you reached for my hand, but before my fingers could entwine themselves with yours I was roused by the incessant beeping of my alarm clock. I shut it off and went back to sleep. Lucky for me, my dream waited. And as your hand held mine, as we walked slowly, as we shared our hearts, I missed my 9:30am class. I didn’t mind.

And still you have no face. And still my heart seeks you. And still I go on.

It is strange how a song can say everything your heart is feeling.

Love Affair- Copeland

Fell past a cheekbone hill
To a piece of the floor
The hope of the world
in an awkward spill
Oh she'd lie on her bed
and stare into harsh white light
and think that her heart's not right
'Cause love took her hand like a thief
took her heart like a robber
and the feelings that scare her
become her relief
Just let me run where I want to run
Just let me love who I want.
Just let me run where I want to run
Just let me love who I want.
In a flash a heart is slain
you have to ask in all this pain
Was your heart too soft?
Was your love in vain?
Was your kiss too weak?
Were your eyes too tired?
And much too young to be in love
Much too young to be in love
Just let me run where I want to run
Just let me love who I want.
There are no rules for this love
Just keep your head and don't give up
Like all the fools who play it smart.
Lose your head just for your heart, just for your heart.

Love, Love, Love… and it consumes me yet again.

I’ve got it good, and I know it. My life is so unbelievably filled with love. So much so that I get giddy if I start to think about it. In fact, I have to make myself stop or my heart begins to ache because its walls become stressed under the pressure of this uncontainable, forceful thing.

I love the time spent in the morning with a vanilla almond biscotto and a doppio espresso macchiato. Such simple things delight my heart, facilitate deeper thoughts. So many things I wish I could say, not necessarily to act on them (would you love me less if I did?), but to talk them out. I do better when I talk things out. These doubts, these fears, these confusing thoughts. I don’t know whom I can turn to for this one, the knowledge of this thing’s existence will change things. No action required. The words alone will betray me this time. Dovrei lasciare perderlo, ma mi sembra che sia troppo difficile questa volta.

I long for a day just like that day on the beach- a day of complete honesty and acceptance, a day of laughter and lightness of heart, a day of unrestricted love. I want everyday to be this valuable to my heart. I will love, love, love you until the world collapses in on itself, and nothing will change this. Nothing you do, or don’t do. Nothing you say or don’t say. It won’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing but this love. Let’s be vulnerable and risk losing this security blanket of fake facades. Let’s get unconditional. Isn’t that what real love is all about anyways? Mio fratello, sai che hai un grand pezzo del mio cuore per sempre?

Love, people, conversation, honesty & pensive moments = pure joy.

Il mio nonno….

And so I sat to write a brief phrase that could contain the feelings that fill my heart. The page remained blank while I pondered this simple, unchanging thing. I looked back on my life to recall the moments effected, developed and infused with joy.

I recall being young. My feet would travel fast, seemingly unable to remain attached to my body. I would become breathless, but I knew every time my little hands reached out, you were there.

I recall you sitting me down and talking with me. I used to love to hear you speak of yourself, your life, your heart; in fact, I still do. Your words would form a cavern, vast and open, always ending with an eager question, awaiting a reply, seeking something inside of me. And as you drew it out, you asked it to form shape- a shape that only my thoughts could form.

You asked it to form me.

I must say, I am who I am, in part, because of you. You may not have thought you influenced me this much, oh! but you did, oh! but you do. I think of you often. I wish I knew you better. I wish I saw you more. I wish you would tell me those things that would be the hardest to say. The life lessons learned only through pain and struggle. Don’t you know I could use that? No one ever wants to admit the hurt, the failure, but this could bring nothing but good. I am sure of it.

I have come to realize we are more similar than I thought we were. I like that. I smiled as I sat next to you, as you told me a "secret." I was one of the only ones you could joke with, because you knew I would return the humor. And still you formed a little bit more of me. You asked me a question I never thought you would ask, a question my father has yet to ask me. I could do nothing but laugh, but I liked that you were bold enough to ask.
So as I sat in an attempt to fit these sentiments into one brief phrase, I decided “I love you” is far too cliché for this. And so the words simply formed themselves, and though basic and unadorned, they expressed my sentiments exactly: “You, as always, dear sir, delight my heart immensely.”