These feelings are real.
I refuse to apologize for any of the feelings that I have ever felt. It is the realist part of the truth I can provide.
This has been the greatest thread of words that I have ever chosen to make known to those around me. Why? Because each fragment of that sentence, every space, every letter, every punctuation mark, is wholly true. Perhaps it is even truer than saying “I love you.” Or maybe, both sentences mean the same thing; both are refusing to give into a guilt that makes us say “I’m sorry for feeling the way I do, but I love you.”
The hardest part of my life now is making sure that I will be okay tomorrow and that today is just a feeling spent after the moment is gone. I keep telling myself that I am not allowed to feel that exact feeling again for the same reason I did today, tomorrow. Just like I tell myself that I’m not allowed to be angry for the same reason, in this moment, tomorrow or the next day. And because of this I will be able to be happy.
I consider happiness a small splinter of joy that I can find somewhere in the palm of my hand, if not that then within each moment. Sometimes that means waking up before the sunrise in the summer and being in high spirits because the darkness can’t wake up as quickly as I when I have nothing to do but waste time. Another moment is when I find a bright-colored bird perching in the tree outside my window. I see him alone, looking down into the green and gray of the world around him, yet, he is still singing the same song at the same tempo with the same feeling. He will not let this moment break his song, even if no one is listening.
I’ve been staring at the empty canvas of my bedroom walls, waiting for the blurry spots to go away. I wish they would fix themselves. I do realize now, that this is my fault; I am the painter of these blank spaces so I should be able to fix this myself. I cease to do so because no eyes but mine will venture here and care about my detail or bothers.
I’ve always been one who tries to understand the good and reasons for all experiences, but this one I cannot grasp a hold of. Is this a sign from God? Is he telling me to grow stronger alone rather than ask for a crutch? I don’t need a crutch, but a hug from someone with strong arms who can listen to me whisper things they cannot hear but still try to understand.
Don’t tell me that “It’s okay,” because I know for a fact that if I am feeling upset or sad about a situation, that in my eyes, it is not okay. If it was okay, I would be fine. Yet, I’m never at that point.
I don’t want you to feel sorry for the way I feel, because I’m not sorry for my feelings. My feelings come from the breaking points of my soul, and my soul is the realist part of me. So when I really am hurt, I really am falling apart at the very center of my being. Aching in the darkest void of the human body, where no touch or kiss can heal.
I don’t want that pain to ever go away. That is what keeps me alive, and feeling like I can feel something. Even love brings pain. Your heart and soul are beating for something it cannot reach, confidently grasping for the comfort of another heartbeat. It never will reach, but trying is love. And love is keeping me alive.