At times I can’t help but get filled with sadness, sadness and grief for all the horrible choices I have made. Sadness and grief for myself, for all the burned bodies I left along the way…
I sit here at 9:30 on a Friday night, a lump in my throat watching a tv show that revolves around a guy and girl who love each other but are afraid to say it. I sit here, watching, telling him to tell her I. love you. Her character cute and bubbly and funny and sweet and goofy and everything I remember her to be. I sit here with tears on the brink for her, for myself, for these two characters on the TV. I wonder, will I ever let myself fall in love again. I don’t return the texts, I don’t stay the night, I don’t pursue, try, care. I wrap myself in this tower, looking down at the people below, looking through the TV to my life and the lives of those around and I wonder, how is it they fall in and out of love so easily. The last two broke me, I broke me, her. I broke almost all I’ve touched.
Wouldn’t it be swell if we all got the fairytale love, the 2.3 kids and a box of Cheerios to go with it and it stayed. If I wouldn’t of lied, if she wouldn’t of cheated, if I woulda loved her more, if she woulda left. Nothing was ever as it was supposed to be but always ended up as it should have with my total disagreement of the defragging of my life. She knew and stayed, I knew and stayed. I had no idea that I could love someone more than me, no idea that I knew nothing of love.
I am constantly called to give of myself, not by you or her or him or them or any other person but of myself. I call out to me, from deep within this sad, lonely place I call my heart, I call out to my soul. I call out to me to be less, give more. You know I wanted to be a cop, I would say it’s so I could have a gun, handcuffs and a fast car but in reality it was cuz I wanted to risk my life to save someone else’s. I see so little meaning in my life, so little significance. Not saying I’m insignificant, I’m saying my physical life can be and should be given to save another. I have lived, many lives over and this one can parish, it’s ok, nothing is forever. I wanted to be a cop to save a life, to trade mine for another, to do right, to protect, to serve. What is a life if it is not of service and self-sacrifice.
I was newly married when I wanted to be a cop, I grew the mustache and everything…
I was so in love with her and yet so fucked up. I was lost and leading her into my hell. I don’t know if I could ever make up for all the pain I caused to her, to myself, to all the others…
She might have a different view of me, her view is none of my business. When she met him and the charade began, I deserved it. I had caused so much harm over my lifetime, I deserved all of it. All the pain, the betrayal, the sleepless nights, the demolishing of my ego (actually we all need that one). I deserved to be broken into a million little pieces, to be the bad guy, the ugly, the betrayer. I caused so much harm, my crimes could be small, I could be building them so big, my perception is the only perception I concern myself with today. I’ll listen to yours, like that time that guy told me I wasn’t her dad, I only raised her and I would never be her dad and we both knew I was just a close friend. I listened to him till it was time to stop listening and walk away.
I used to think I didn’t deserve pretty or kind or loving or beautiful. After I got all I wanted and it killed me and I killed it, either way I knew I was getting my karmic due. How sad that reality is, seeing each and all experiences a karmic repercussion of self-inflicted pain. I mean it is sad, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad, it can just be sad, a sad experience…
I fell in love again, so hard it was like a ton of bricks falling on my head to only split my heart. I had no idea I could have been so lucky that many times in this life. First there was Samantha, so gentle and soft and pure, we were so young. Her voice that of childhood lullaby’s and skin sun kissed to perfection, I’ll never forget the first time I saw her. Then there was my wife, the woman who paralleled me, Elisa. She was my truth, my savior, my idol – quite possibly the coolest woman I’ve ever known. She mesmerized me, she still does at times, to this day I still turn to her as my confidante and the trust of thousand chains binds me to her. Lastly there was my Laura, what I needed, who I needed, at any given moment. The honesty I gave her, unmatched to any other, the lust, immeasurable.
I have been lucky to have 3, 3 woman I have loved as if my life depended on it, one I set ablaze, the other we burned each other and the last, she killed me good. I was lucky to have all 3 and would not change a thing. I don’t know if I will ever outlive the sadness and regret I have created, I kinda care not to. Whether it stays or goes, it is here right now, I will see it, experience it and move on from it. Everything is a moment, one of which I need only see and accept, this moment will pass and a new moment will arrive. No one ever died of a broken heart or shame or guilt or died from love and happiness for that matter.
I met a woman recently, I’ve known her for quite some time, we had gone out a few times recently and the way my eyes opened was shocking. I could see how letting someone in is like opening a stone door. There’s so many disclaimers and precautions and so much to be said so no one, no one starts to fall in love. The pure thought of giving the quiet of myself to someone is absurd, giving them my hand to hold, my eyes to gaze upon. To be free with them, to laugh and smile and sink deep inside of. I can’t go through another heartbreak, I barely, barely survived the last and the one prior to that – I should be loaded by now.
So tell me this, what is there to life after you’ve done it all? Love, relationships, significant other, right? You’ve done the alone time, taken the solo trips, movies and dinners and walks. You went to therapy, worked steps, respected woman, respected yourself, found good – you’ve done it, now what. Fall in love. Fall in love and combine lives with someone else, share all the remarkable and beautiful experiences of being alive.
But you don’t, you won’t, you can’t – so what then? Ride your bike? Spend more time at work? Build a van to travel the U.S. in? Sit in coffee shops and add to a blog that very few read, start that blog under the idea that you could be something more than what you are, start it so you can give people the option to read you and not take them hostage in a conversation solely revolved around you and your insanity. Become more Buddhist, more selfless, more kind and loving and forgiving. Become everything you need people to be towards you, be everything you want to be treated as. Go deeper and deeper into all this not knowing if this is even the right choice then remembering there is no right or wrong, so you continue to go deeper.
And you find there is no bottom, just another layer to push through and yet you still fancy falling in love!! Maybe the right woman has just not appeared = questioning. Maybe she is on her way and I have to be patient = hope. I’m really looking forward to meeting her = desire. Where is she, she’s still not here = sadness. Odd the way that works when we don’t stay in the moment and have acceptance.
I think the desire to fall in love is what kills love in the first place, we overlook everything just too justify falling for someone. Falling for them cuz loneliness is too lonely, cuz cold nights and quiet Saturday mornings are wretched and unkind, cuz the physical touch is that of simplicity and security and oneness. The desire to, is sadder than the broken heart that normally follows, therein lies the true loneliness, in desire. We can paint it how we wish, with passion, grit, calling on the universe to produce it, asking god to give it – however you want to wrap it, it is the saddest experience of all. For how many nights, how many bottles, how many lines, how many days, dreams, moments, tears – how much have I desired, for endless hours and at every turn it created all my sadness. I attach my self to desire and all is lost once again.
It seems taboo to speak of love and broken hearts, no one really wants to hear someone talk of such things. It’s hard to write it all cuz there is a taste of self-pity that is a byproduct of it. Although there is no pity, no victimizing, just the reality of what was and how it was created. Some would say it’s all god given and self-will did with it as it does, maybe that’s true. Maybe it was desire that sought out these people, these experiences and they were created by that. Maybe it is all dead and gone and living in what was is avoiding the moment. Could be all 3 for all I know. I miss my wife, I miss my girlfriends, I miss the fearlessness I had when it came to love and trust. I miss seeing the beauty in the tragedy, I miss being poetic. I miss everything about who I was. We are meant to grow and change, it’s inevitable but sometimes we change for survival or due to our environment. I would like to get back to where I used to be, as insane as it was for my head and my heart, it was where I was happiest.
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