with tenderness, kindness, an acceptance of the past, and hope for the future
all you, all you, always been you
Category: musings
tenderness, #3 / eden, #2
looking back and extending his hand he says
come here now, let’s admire the flowers together
come here now, i’ll hold you close
shame
the incessant fear of being perceived… how pathetic, how meaningless
the beach
thoughts of the past inadvertently find their way into my bouts of reflection; they’re a potent cocktail of yearning and regret. i don’t think there’s an English word for it — i haven’t found its foreign, untranslatable variant. it’s a feeling of watching life passing gently, like running your palm through the beach and watching the sand slip through your fingers. you can hold on as much and as tightly as you want, but it makes no difference. the pigeons will continue to caw, the trees sway in the wind, and the sea will recede, before rushing forward, only to recede again.
excerpts, #12
for all that life has given me — if it gave me any more, would i hate myself any less?
excerpts, #11
what we had was not poetry — it is, because i wrote it so
take care of yourself, my love
excerpts, #10 (serenity)
i used to think love needed to be exhilarating and all that. like a joyride. i’d go wild for the ups and downs and i thought that defined an ideal relationship. i’d play games with insecure men, men who had no idea what they wanted and were wasting our time, in an attempt to best them. i believe i always came out on top, but did i really? i didn’t realise then that my actions were, in fact, a reflection of my unmet needs that (even) breaking multiple men’s egos could not address.
don’t get me wrong — i loved breaking them, i regret nothing: i did not know better. i don’t think that belligerent part of me will ever go away; it is a kind of pleasure that cannot be captured in words.
but love isn’t about breaking; it’s about building. it was not real love (whatever that means) that i had with them; it only seemed that way because i loved the thrill — i loved the hunt, because i am a hunter.
instead, what i needed was really serenity — and that’s what i feel with him. we could just sit in silence together, listening to absurd current affairs on the radio. or he could roll down the windows on a morning drive, and i’d just quietly feel the wind brush my face and his hand against mine; he brings the back of my hand to his cheek, and just reminiscing about it makes me sob. i’m perfectly content just being by his side. he’s not something to be hunted or broken; he’s someone to be loved.
even hunters have families to return to.
like the rain washes away all sins, he swept in like a storm and blew the competition out of the water.
the thing about love (in hindsight) is that you don’t know until you know. i had to keep searching in the dark alone, armed only with hope, until i found it. and it comes suddenly, but you’ll know when it’s there. it just is. it’s running home into the warmth of someone’s arms, knowing that they’ve been waiting for you all along, knowing that you belong there.
i found my friends when i least expected it; i found him when i least expected it. and even if he doesn’t stay, even if they don’t stay, they’ll always be branded into my heart.
and so i’m going now, my hands in theirs, their hands in mine.
two islands
when i think of love — i think of you and me standing, looking at each other. we are on two islands; there is a chasm between us, a torrid body of water so deep it bleeds into the earth’s core.
i’m dying to reach you: i could jump into the water, and if i’m lucky, i’ll wash ashore on your sands. but i start to wonder: would you do the same for me?
could we meet in the middle?
i return my attention to your eyes; your gaze has softened now. there’s still love in it, i know. but it doesn’t have the edge it did before, that absolute determination to swim or die trying.
you wouldn’t do it for me, would you?
you turn away to another island; i am left looking at you across mine, before i eventually turn too.
becoming, #2 (suspiria)
i watched Suspiria earlier on a whim. to be as spoiler-free as possible (the movie was a LOT), it is essentially about a witch coming into being — in the sense that she became who she was meant to be.
it was a masterpiece. in its post-credits scene, she looks beyond the screen and subtly smiles as if she recognises something monumental has happened; she is at peace with it; something greater is coming, and she is ready.
hyperbole perhaps, but something about this film fundamentally altered my brain chemistry. the witch is… powerful, devastatingly so when attuned to her purpose, but merciful and forgiving at the same time. she is a mother; she is everything a woman would want to be.
it hit me hard because i’ve only begun to realise that there is, in fact, something powerful within me. but now that i’ve discovered it — the only thing left to do is be who i really am, as i am. but if you are to be truly yourself you have to let go of everything that you thought you loved and wanted to love.
but it’s such a herculean process — it hurts so much, my god, does it hurt — and the suffering doesn’t even abate with time. you have to do it over and over, discarding things that don’t serve you, armed only with the belief that your suffering now will eventually serve a grander purpose. not that they’re not beautiful and precious — they just were not made for you.
do you understand? — i always ask the ones i love.
but does it matter?
as much as i want to be connected with everyone else, this life was for me.
life was a lot easier when i was not aware. i was walking blind and letting others lead my way. but now that i know exactly what i want — i have to chart the path on my own.
someone once told me that life is like swimming across the sea; the English Channel is an example, if you will. you must swim across or drown trying. and you’ll have people along the way with you; if you’re lucky, you’ll find a partner to support you. but if both of you are to make it across, you have to know how to swim without the other.
and if you have to rely on your partner to make it across, you will not only drown: you will kill them too.
i used to think — only three weeks ago, actually — that i needed someone to complete me. but i understand now, as our protagonist did:
i am whole on my own, as i am.
interregnum, #3 (the lovesick logs)
i used to be obsessed with this guy; i dreamt about him for years. even as he hurt me, over and over, vengefully because i had hurt him too, i clung to the idea of him, desperate for his love. i was willing to drop everything for him if only he would ask, if only he wanted me the way i wanted him so completely. the day i gave up on him for good when he told me i was too much for him. i guess i needed that closure, and at least i found it.
the thing is, i found myself loving again. and the next one was better, or so i thought. and then i fell out of love. and then i fell again, for — you won’t believe this — an even better one. because i was growing and i was becoming. and i will keep doing so, with or without them.
granted, with the current one, i think i’ve never felt so instantly sure before. but love has an insidious way of short-circuiting your brain making you blind to your past, your future, and even your present.
i’ve been thinking: i think many of us have a conception of love as a shared object. it is something given, but it has to be received to be complete. but i’m starting to wonder if it’s even simpler. maybe love is something that is merely given. it is not about what we have; it is not what you think about me. it is only about what i have to give you, because i wanted to, not because i wanted something in return.
and so love is not a game of deservedness — it is a game of appreciation. and so we keep going as much as we can. to love again and again, until we find someone who will accept us completely, as we are, as we will be.
t-10.
baby g’s diary 