again

And again we revisit this subject.

I feel that relationships and social intricacies of relationships cause one’s insecurities to rear their ugly heads.

I don’t consider myself insecure. I enjoy myself, and I enjoy my own company. I like my features, and I’ve learned to love my body. I like my sense of humor, and I like the things I like. I say what I want, I do what I want. I like my aesthetic, and I enjoy being me. I love being me. I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.

But for the life of me, if I’m so confident in my own skin, why am I so insecure about letting someone into that world? It’s true, my world is a little different. I view it differently because of where I come from, who my parents are, my experiences, and so on. Everyone views the world a bit differently than others- no view is the same. But even so, my view can still be vastly different from others. My world is different, and I’m really afraid of showing someone that world. What if I show it to the wrong person? What if they shatter it from the inside, and I’ve got nothing left? What if they hate it, and I trap them in with me?

It’s not fair. Most people have bubbles for worlds. Their bubbles come together to create a stronger, bigger bubble. But mine is like a snowglobe. Seemingly a bubble, but I just cannot let you in. I have to keep you at arm’s length. I’ve got to be on a shelf as a knickknack that you refer to. You like it, or maybe you don’t, but you never interact with it.

I just cannot let you in. It’s like a panic button gets pressed when I see your face. And I start running around in my snowglobe, trying to break down the barrier. But fuck, I can’t. Why would I break my own world? It hurts me. It scares me. It feels like I’m drowning. I can’t swim. What is this? Why is it just you? Why the hell do you get to be the one? Fuck your light and all its shimmer.

Why can’t I let people into my world? What is it about my world that I deem so awesomely horrible that I cannot share it with anyone else? Do I truly hate myself?

I’m going to have to let it go. It hurts me. It pains me. Your light is aligned with my eyes, and I feel like it could possibly be just what I want. No, I know it’s what I want. You’re normal, with a bit of deviant shimmer that seems like fireworks to my retinas and I want it. I want to bathe in it.

But for some reason, some stupid reason. I can’t. Fear. Fear of what others think, and I am so fucking annoyed with myself for it. I hate it. It makes me want to cocoon, to go inside myself and fix it all. And forget you. Just forget your name, your smile, your eyes, everything I adore about you.

I want to forget. I want to forget so I can heal myself. So I can be ready for someone else.

Someone else? How can there possibly be someone else when I’ve waited this long just to have your light flashed in front of my eyes? And that’s the kicker! Which weighs more heavily in my mind- the fear of letting you into my world or the fear of never knowing your touch?

Fuck. I’m scared. This is unknown. I can’t sleep, dear love. I can’t eat or breathe or speak. My mouth is withering from disuse, and it’s all your fault. No, no love, I take it back. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. All the faults are mine, and they always have been.

If there were no one else in the room, just you and me. I could. I could talk to you. I could sing for you, and baby, I could fly. Dear love, why am I so afraid of other people and what they might think? I’m not afraid of you. I don’t think I ever could be. But I’m so afraid of others. I’m afraid of your friends. Your colleagues. Your family. Your peers. Your classmates. I’m afraid. If I let you in, I’d have to let them peek in. But no, love, I just can’t. People and I don’t mix on that level.

Fear is stupid. Fear is dumb. I want what I want and yet I don’t want you enough to conquer my fears. I want you, I do. In every possible way. But until I’m strong enough, less afraid… I don’t think I deserve you.

just a feeling

I don’t understand this feeling. Maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe I’m just too naïve.

The first time I wanted to be near someone this much- he died. For some reason, I still blame myself. The second time I wanted to be near someone this much- he left me with an illness in my body that took me years to get over. Even now I’ve still got scars.

This is the third time. They say the third time’s the charm, but I’m not so sure. I’m not sure because I don’t know what to do. I am driven- compelled, even- to action, but for the love of all that is holy, I just cannot. It’s the part I play. All the time. I don’t speak. I don’t smile. I don’t even glance. I’m sending you mixed messages because I’m scared.

Thoughts of you send lighting and fire down my nerves, you settle in my stomach like a storm over the sea. And I really don’t understand what that means. I’ve had baby crushes, it’s true. I’ve never wanted to obtain the person, to convey to them what I felt. Because I truly didn’t want them- I just loved how they were in some particular moment. And then it was gone- the rush of blood to the skull was gone. But you? You’re sending me to a place I’m uncomfortable with, that makes me sick and ill and screwed over. No one knows that. That I can’t breathe before I see you. That I shake. That I shiver. That my mind can’t seem to stomp you out of itself. You’re all I’m seeing- even when I close my eyes you’re in my periphery.

And yet when we talked, it was like a hot shower after a long day or a cool swim in a shallow pool. Refreshing and needed and so good. All those doubts fell away. All those anxieties and little worries- gone. Poof. What does that mean? Time moved so fast and yet so slow.

I can tell that you glow. I can tell that you shine. Your wavelength is resonating so I can hear it, and I hope I’m playing the right song back to you. I’ve always been able to take one look at a person and know. Well, I know.

I’m crying because I’m silly. I don’t know how to say this. And no one ever really wants to know what’s beneath the beating of one’s heart. You don’t want to know. And I’m sad about that. Or maybe you do. But I’m still sad about it. Because my fears have always held me back. I can’t unchain myself because it’s easy. It’s easy to sit here shackled, not exploring. I’m a caged bird- I sing, I appear happy. But I do wonder what’s beyond my bars.

I’m crying because I’m screaming it to you. I’m screaming it, and I want this. I really do. But I guess I don’t want it enough, because I’m not telling you this from my mouth. You’re shining to me. You really are. The shine isn’t fading. The sun still seems brighter if you’re there.

How do I know that this is true? That this isn’t one of those other baby crushes?

There’s two categories of those baby things, and you fall into neither. People I want to obtain and become, and people I want to just simply love.

I don’t want to become you. And I don’t want to simply love you. I want to have you. Have you. I want you to breathe life into me, make me feel what I’ve wanted to feel for so long. I thought I was broken. And I know you could make me realize that I don’t need to be fixed. I’m attracted to you and what your shine is. And I need it. I never thought I could want someone for their body, but I do. I don’t find the thought of you appalling- I welcome it. Which is a strange thing. For me.

Your hair. Your arms. Your mouth. Your eyes. Your smile. I’d like to touch you, to taste you. I want your body, yes, but I also want your heart, your mind, your soul. I’m burning for you. I touch myself in place of you and, damn, it’s embarrassing to admit, even if no one will see this. I just want to be in your company. No matter how long it takes- it’s all I want. Is that silly? Is that love? What makes me tick that makes me feel this way about you, just you? And the other two, they didn’t make me feel like this. This is bad. This is terrible. It’s sickening.

I’ve asked others what I should do, but they don’t get it. They don’t understand how hard it is for me to even look in your direction, to say hello. It’s hard because you’re full of possibilities. It’s hard because in an instant, it could fall apart, and the sparks I feel between us could fizzle and fade. It’s hard because I don’t understand, and you probably do. It’s hard because I don’t know what to do, and you probably do. It’s hard because I don’t know what you’re thinking, and you do.

I’m asking for help, but I’m just so pissed off that the answers I need are ones that reside within me. I know what to do. And what holds me back is fear. Of failure, rejection. Not hurt. You could hurt me, after the fact, and I’d be fine. But to know that you never saw my shine, that my song never reached your ears, that would kill me. My wavelength doesn’t resonate with just anyone, and I’m really afraid that includes you.

So I’m afraid of myself. I’m afraid that I’ll let that fear keep me from what I want yet again. I can make all the excuses I want. But in the end it’s just me.

I pray that you’ll say hi. That you’ll smile on the stairway. That you’ll hold open doors for me again and pass me the attendance. I pray that we’ll have another conversation. Maybe over coffee. I pray that you like nice music, and that you love films. I pray that you’ll tell me we’ll take it slow. And I pray that you take my hand. I pray that this burning feeling I’ve got quenches, and that my body bathes in the waters of your life. I pray that you’ll send me pretty letters and pictures while I send you funny videos and brownies. I pray that things actually happen instead of staying stagnant.

I pray that I’m actually strong enough to do what I want and not give a damn what others think, including you.