I looked around the table and saw familiar faces and new faces. All so full of love.
As she poured her heart out over our leftover chipotle someone chimed in "you sound strong. Those words sound strong"...there was silence & only praise to The Giver of Life left her lips.
I heard stories of while I've been away. Hard stories of conversations with doctors & moments that the family has titled "God kisses". I'm so fond of that.
These are the people someone needs. The people who will drop all they have to be with someone who just needs their energy. Their positivity & laughter. Normalcy. Day-to-day.
I looked across the way and saw my best friend. My go to, my person. My sister is so brave.
We were dancing and singing all up the 101 North as we drove to a now familiar place: the hospital.
She shared frustrations with me about people complaining. The little things in life that we deem as our End Alls mean nothing once you take an elevator to the ICU. They mean nothing when you sit in a waiting room full of souls from near and far all here because of raw, hopeful love. They mean nothing. She is 17. She is brave.
I think my whole family is, really.
As we sat in the sea foam green waiting room tonight and I texted my cafeteria table ladies I realized how powerful love is. How breathtaking love is. How important love is. We, as humans, need love.
Don't hold back love. Don't wait for love. Give love. Give love in such a genuine way that people notice that you're different. That you have a Love like no other.
My family is so brave. Brave because He gives life. He gives freedom when there are shackles binding you to depression, hopelessness & fear.
Be brave.
Be strong.
My name is Anonymous.
ReplyDeleteFor the past year and some odd months, I've felt such a drive to finish all my obligatory duties regarding my current life situation that I've felt nothing emotionally.
Until now.
I'm extremely overwhelmed by sadness and loneliness. I thought I had it all together; thought I didn't need anyone. And just as sure as I am that tomorrow will come, I know that tomorrow my sadness will be gone. I will be toiling away at my droning job, telling myself that I have room for progress. I'll walk with confidence and professional posture. I'll show everyone that I have it all together.
I'm a mess of abstract thought, dreams, and fragments of hopes that I know just aren't reality. My dream persona wants me to be so much more, but in the end I find myself wanting to lay down and dream it, rather than live out the real responsibility and consequence of what I aspire to be. I'm a living, thriving conflict of interests. My organic self desires to be hidden away and perplexing to the random passerby. My spiritual self yearns for a higher calling. It reaches out for highly intellectual social circles; networks of beings that connect on a different level.
Tangible interaction feeds the physical flesh of my body, but I desire so much more. I long for the possibility to intrigue and delight the aura of another, to have them ride along the same wave of existence that I am constricted to. Often times, my words have no weight when I do my best to place value on them. Given this fact, I am fully aware that this writing in itself is a flawed work.
I wish I could take off my clothes, lay down, and meld into the floor. I want to sink deeply into the carpet and feel myself disperse into millions of pieces, each individually carrying my old weight so that the pieces themselves have the tenacity to carry out the relieving process needed to get this bearing off my shoulders. My human form does not show my true self. In the end, my ability to physically attract someone, whether intimately or not, has no real meaning to me. Everything physical is temporary, but my inner-being is, at this moment, creating a scar across the people, places, and spirits I touch.
I want my soul to become music. The flowing notes and chords, the musical progression, taking me into the air and encircling me around those who find themselves barren and lost. We could all blend into this perfect swirl of color and sound, so heavenly delightful to the air and drifting peacefully through planes of consciousness. There would be no sadness or longing. We would all be as one and grasp tightly to our bond. No outside influence would be given any authority over our belonging.
But yet I find myself alone here, writing what I can only describe as my weightless words that carry no sound reasoning. And as I previously stated, I will wake up tomorrow and my goals will have shifted to carrying out my daily duties and forgetting the past. It's this eternal struggle that sits in my gut every time I meet somebody new. Every time I reach out for understanding, I know that in reality I will always be alone. Nobody will ever feel the exact same way I feel at this moment, no matter how close their experience comes in similarity.
My struggle, if ever to be confined to definition comes as this:
Dissonance