Imperfect perfection

Love is not made from perfect faces or perfect bodies, it is not made from cloth or stone. We get so caught up in the fantasy of love that we often run hurriedly past genuine love, distracted by the twinkle of romantic grand gestures often based on nothing more than a generic idea found only in the movies.

We fight and we fight trying to be perfection to feel deserved of love but it is in our darkest days, not only our greatest triumphs that we form connections. That we weave the ever lasting bonds of true love. It takes effort and wanting to create the tapestry, so intricate so unique to the individual. It takes choice. We must choose to love another everyday we wake. We must commit. Love is more than temporary curves and muscles, love is that warm feeling that fills you from the inside out when you simply sit quietly with your love. The passion arises out of this quiet contentment, as we realise we can trust with our entire being. We are home in that moment, and at total peace, free to explore whatever our bodies choose. 

As the tears steam down my face & my heart sits heavy in my chest an ocean forms around me. My heart anchoring me to the sea floor. My soul swells with all of the guilt, disappointment, heart ache, pain and longing I’ve acquired through this experience we call life. I feel like a tiny damaged boat in this open angry sea. In solitude I find myself riding the massive waves, each wave ready to tear the vessel apart or send me hurtling overboard lost forever. Knuckles white from hanging on to the worn wooden sides, no ores now as all guidance and steering fell overboard a long while ago. I prick myself on a splinter but hold on even tighter embracing the pain, it means I’m still here.

The inertia making me feel ill now I just close my eyes and feel the ache, hoping that my tears will wash some of this feeling away and sail me to a new tomorrow. I feel I can barely speak. Unable to adequately explain myself to anyone to help this ease, I am the unknown, I am alone even when amongst the masses. I give in & give over to the feeling & ask for forgiveness for all the wrong turns and self loathing that I’ve saturated myself in. My intentions have always been pure but the water is muddied now from the abuse, the embarrassment, the secrecy and the longing for love that never came. I would have done anything just to have a sniff of that, but in doing so I buried myself deeper into the lonely abyss. Was I even worthy anymore, I knew I had been, but with each passing year it seemed less and less likely. Peeling back the layers of confidence to be left feeling raw, vulnerable & totally alone.

Maybe it’s my breathing that sends the boat affray, I slow my breath for a moment and go within. In and ouuuut, slowly the peaks and falls smooth and I almost wish I could stop breathing altogether to allow for complete stillness. But life and pain, love and hatred, it’s all that makes our world turn. There is never one without the other, as the absence of one makes them both obsolete. The rise and fall of our breath just as the thump thrump in our chest. It all has a two and fro that creates life itself. Pressure and release. The emptiness and the overflow. The space and the form. We must learn to love where we are, as there can always be the influx after the outflow. We will not always be empty, nor always full.

But maybe just maybe if we believe in each other we can help each other climb out of the dark and balance these tides to still waters. My breath in helping your breath out.

To the other side

My feet on dry land but I feel like I am drowning. Drowning, sinking, into a thick heavy liquid of un-poured cement. I am scared if I settle for even a moment I’ll be buried in the heaviness forever. 50 feet under, petrified in grey. I must keep churning to keep the flow.

My body falls away as my minds turbulent spin distracts me. I can’t think my way out like before. I can’t move. I can’t breath.

I am trapped in an invisible vortex. Things seem calm on the outside but gravity is heavier here inside my mind. Each attempt at freedom only burrows me deeper within the cement as I try to crawl through the path I’ve been dealt. Sometimes I just wish it would swallow me whole so that I didn’t have to keep forcing my way. It felt so pointless now. Why am I so shackled when everyone else seems so free, so light, so carefree? They walk on air while I carry the worlds weight with each step.

The energies that be have me surrounded and my only way out, I can’t even be sure exists. Do I clutch onto hope to no avail? My finger tips and knuckles white from holding on too long. My nails starting to bleed from the pressure, knuckles are torn. Is this it? Don’t show me a sign, but lead the way. I can not handle cryptic gestures any longer. I need it to be real. Pull me through to the other side.

Reflections…

Don’t judge me by my coldness now, judge me by the person I was before I was damaged by you. That is the real me.

To you, I am only a product of all the things you did and said to me. I’m no idiot I understood more than you know of your lies.

This is why I changed before your eyes. Recoiling in fear from being lovingly and carefully mistreated.

You did it in such a way that you made me feel bad for your errors, taking them on as my own.

I am open, kind & loving. But to you I now seem closed off, bitter & distant. That is not me, but the reflection of your own actions and inner self.

A mirror turned inward can be one of the most confronting and painful things to experience, especially when you realise it’s true source.

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