Thisis what I do- I sit down, and I try to write something that is beautiful. That is my job. It's the point and purpose of the things I do, and making it count is maybe the only
thing I am really good at. And I thought all of these things as I walked up my stairs this morning, thought about the million things I could put to a page, and I think of all the things you'll
never read, all the phrases I forgot in a moment of passion or the things I was too sad to write because I felt like making them known would break me apart. Those things might have changed your
life. You'll never know.
Thisis who I am- I breathe in, out, waver my focus and return to the point. It occurs to me that it gets easier every day to be honest with myself, and at least when I fall I know that it's coming. At least I expect the humiliation and the failure, because it's easier not to choke when you're ready to die. It's easier to push yourself past the gag reflex of taking back what you said, what you did, the things you meant and didn't mean in moments of fire and ice. It's easier to accept life as it is. It's easier to accept yourself as you are.
This is when I matter- I say the things other people may not. I matter when I am brave, when I am strong, when I make every single breath one of purpose and point. It's when I have a motivation, when I am unselfish, when I give and find that it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would. It is when I know in my heart that I will wait until the time is right for him or for anyone else, when I know I won't push myself on a man who's not ready. It's when I reject the things in my head- the kiss on my finger, the strong hands- when I put them away for a better time and place. It is when I stop overreacting and realize that my feelings alone do not determine the course of my life. It's when I think about someone other than me, when I live life with intense love.
There is where I am- I stand still in a million different places. I am here and there and the places in between, and if "dancing" by elisa puts me all of these places I will stay there and watch things happen around me without moving a muscle. I am in all of the important moments of my life- in a dark chapel, at a ballroom, in a hospital, in my driveway, at church. Always at church. And then there, last night, driving aimlessly down 73 and a winding back road just to prove to myself that I can function without anyone else. I drive just to stay awake, just to clear my head, but I go nowhere significant and do nothing important. I listen to DMB and I wait to make sense of how I feel, but I know in my heart it will never happen, so I go home and fall into sleep. I am never in only one place.
This is why I am the way I am- I don't know how to be any other way. I don't know how to listen to a song and not be engulfed in fire, how not to care about all of the things that happen around me, how not to look into myself with the most critical glance and see that I am both fundementally flawed and necessarily beautiful. I was made by perfection and born into sin, and these two sides of me are always warring for the upper hand. I recognize that there is a battle in every decision I make, and I wonder how this will end. I wonder about the outcome, but more than anything I wonder where he is at. Why he is the way he is. Why I cannot help but glance at the form of a man, kneeling in the presence of his God. And maybe this means that the two sides of me have found a momentary peace, that I love a thing that is beautiful and that I am ashamed of that and it wasn't supposed to be this way, this constant struggle to love and give and take. Once again I am doing the falling, and I hold myself back for a moment and the relent. I don't have the answers, I never have the answers, and maybe there aren't really any answers. But his curved spine and the hair in his eyes is good enough for me, so I forget the questions and forgive the hesitation. There is not a charge forward but a quiet laying down of weapons, not a retreat but a breath of peace, and I take it in to my lungs and turn back to the cross and wait for the next attack of love, of passion, of life. For now, the quiet is enough.
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