More than anything

It might not be the right time
I might not be the right one
But there's something about us I want to say
Cause there's something between us anyway

I might not be the right one
It might not be the right time
But there's something about us I've got to do
Some kind of secret I will share with you

I need you more than anything in my life
I want you more than anything in my life
I'll miss you more than anyone in my life
I love you more than anyone in my life

*Wriggles in shell*

I'm at the point where I know I should stop poking around all those sensitive spots in my heart/ego/etc (after pressing months of vulnerablility/humbling experiences?/oh, reality) and get back out there, smiling. I have to leave them sores alone, stop covering them up so that they can heal properly.

When I went through that mess and all my failures were steadily being brought to light, I made "growing up and doing it right" such a mission that I left little room for anything else. I tackled my worst traits head on -- dismantling them, absorbing them, predicting their futures in order to adjust to the present. I put up a wall in defense to brace for new losses and needless to say, I lost a lot of friends during this time. All for the better, I need to be alone to do this right, I told myself.

My best friend, I'm sorry to admit, played a supporting role in this project of mine. I requested that she be the good friend I deserve and lay my flaws out flat for me to work off of. It was something she had a keen sense for, and she did so with accurate precision. I compare it to winning a complex video game solely on cheat codes, playing just to win but winning on advice. I was cheating, instead of learning. I was doing it for the trophy without ever learning the skill.

Eventually, I got sad. Sad, frustrated, and I hovered close into the fires of Bitter. I couldn't figure out the reasons for my deepening withdrawal other than general "depression? I think?" and to an extent, it was true. I wasn't going anywhere. I was still, on every level, failing and I didn't know why. I couldn't trust the advice of the people giving them to me. I was relying on them too much. And I started to hate myself, thus hating the world around me. My job, my home, my friends. New York. Anywhere but here.

I lost respect for the person I used to be. I focused on my negative traits for so long that I forgot the reasons people fell in love with me in the first place. Thus, I lost love for myself. I was running away from the old me so hard.

And to get that old thing back, I gotta readjust. Shave off the negatives and work on the good stuff. I have new ideas of what makes me happy now, so I just have to explore them. I won't list them, because they're specific to me and subject to change.

Sigh. It's past 430am. Hopefully I can build more answers around this. Ta.

Cutting shit out

and breathing better. Today was a nice day. My stresses are still ruining my back -- I had trouble turning my head to look at someone mid-conversation -- but finally, finally, my mind seems to be clear. Gaining control of your own self is one of the most difficult things to do.

I looked over the training material for a volunteer session I'm going to attend this weekend, and it unnerved me to instantly think of my best friend when I read the words, "Advice is still a form of abuse." What does that mean, when you start to see things about a person you love that makes you completely uncomfortable? Do you compromise? Or do you stick to your guns?

The thing about relationships in the 20s is that these are our years of growth.. changes.. renewal. Shit gets volatile when theres obligations that prevent this from happening. Space is necessary to observe, absorb, adjust.

Change can't happen thoroughly, it seems, when the other cannot let you go. True identity can't set properly when it has to heal around the old. Breaks might be necessary for relationships during this era -- for the sake of preservation. During these turbulent times of self-realization, doubt and regeneration, loving yourself becomes difficult. And I can't love you if I don't love myself.

Step off, so that I can love you later -- if, in the end, that's what I'm supposed to do. I need to know who I am without you... let me go.

I don't have the energy to explore my tendencies to suddenly break from those I depend on in order to move ahead. It is a reoccuring pattern though, that I have to force myself to acknowledge. This is the third break you're itching to make.

3am. Sleep is so elusive. Thinking shit like this does not help.

The Poem Behind: Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wilderness and let the ecstacy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true, I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments .

Disease

once you admit that
something is bigger than you,
it takes you over.