Sometimes life isn't fair, but it's not fair to remind us that each person must be fair individually.
So, here's to you
for all your happiness, all your blessings, and receiving everything you have ever wanted.
And here's to me
for not being a part of any of it, and thank God.
Here's to you
for, to the best of my knowledge, being who you were supposed to be.
And here's to me
for not being bitter about it.
Here's to you
because of all the pain I put you through, and everything you have undoubtedly suffered for my actions.
Here's to me
for realizing that you hurt too, and it's high time you stopped.
Here's to you
for beating me to it.
Here's to me
for being content with waiting.
Here's to you
for all the shit you slung my way, and making me who I am this day even if the road you chose to walk on was not ideal for the comfort of my feet (or any other part of me, for that matter).
Here's to me
for taking it and turning around, not to go back, but to start again on a path of my own.
Here's to you
for finally doing it right.
Here's to me
for doing it the way that was right for me
Here's to you
for never being as happy as you are right now.
Here's to me
for realizing what normal is a year ago, and waking up each day ecstatic for living in the middle of it.
Here's to you
for forgetting.
Here's to me
for always remembering lest I forget where I came from.
Here's to you.
May your life be as blessed as mine.
Even if it's not fair.
Here's to me.
May I always remember that justice isn't revenge, and I prayed for this for you. Can't be upset when it comes true.
Even if it's not fair.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
I am not Good; I am not Bad. Neither are you.
This is a theory of mine, but it only works with a Christian mindset, or at least a mind, set in the belief that no one is perfect.
Everyone is born both good and evil because we are not perfect. This is what I wholeheartedly believe. I also believe, that at the end of days, every single person -- EVERYONE -- is still composed of good and evil, no matter the choices and actions they have made and taken. And, if someone is composed of both good AND evil, then no one is good and no one is evil. I can almost see the names and faces flashing through your mind at this moment in contest to that statement: Hitler, Mother Theresa, Virgin Mary, etc., etc. Just bear with me.
Imagine with me that everything under the sun is tangible: all emotions, all actions, all choices, all souls, all adjectives, all adverbs; everything can be touched. Now imagine that your soul is nothing but a scale. On one side rests one piece of Good, and on the other, an equal amount of Evil. This is what you are born with, and it cannot be taken away because it is one in the same with the composition of your soul.
After you are born with this scale of Good and Evil, you are set on a road, and as anyone who has ever been exposed to any sort of archetypical literature knows, that road is Life (cliche, I know, but it helps prove my point). At every fork in Life, you have pieces of Good and Evil to show the nature and/or outcome of the choice you make at that side of the fork. The piece you pick up depends on the side you choose to continue on your voyage, and the piece is added to the appropriate side. For example, and at the risk of over-explaining, if you choose what is good, then you pick up Good and add it to the side of the scale where your other Good is. This causes, of course, that side to weigh more than the other. At the end of Life, then, your scale is proof of the amount and kinds of choices you have made, judging by the side of the scale tipped closest to the ground. However, because you must at least have ONE piece on either side that you were born with permanently in your soul, you cannot ever be labeled as a Good Person or a Bad Person.
"Good" and "Bad" are separate and distinct things and can only be used to describe something composed ENTIRELY of one or the other, but not both. Like light and dark: if a room is filled with light and has no shadows, then the room is light. If a room is completely void of light, then it is dark. However, if a room has both light and darkness in it, then the room is neither and both. Depending on the amount of light or dark, though, it can be filled with more of one than the other. People are the same. Because we all have good and bad in us, we cannot be fully good or bad, but we can be neither and both all at once. That doesn't mean that some of us aren't filled with more good than bad or vice versa.
This is very different from the normal aspect on humanity, I think. Because so many people label others as a "good person" or a "bad person," it suggests that instead of adding to the scale as they go along, all the pieces of Good and Evil are already on their scale, either all on one side or balanced when they are born, but as they make choices and actions, they borrow from one side and give to the other. This would suggest, though, that at the end of the road it is possible for someone to be perfect, without any sort of Evil at all, if they only made right decisions, but no one is perfect. It would also suggest that Good and Evil are interchangable (see the importance of looking at it as tanglible? A table and a chair are not the same thing with the same functions.), not separate.
Why is this important? Because if no one is good, and no one is bad, then everyone is capable of both, from the preacher in the pulpit to the junkie down the street. If everyone is capapble of both, then no one should be labeled, everyone should be loved, as equally as the quantity of purity and sin in our hearts the day of our birth. Viewing the heart of everyone this way brings a new equality and temperance to the outlook on humanity, and possessing equality and temperance is the first step to perfect love, grace, and holiness.
Everyone is born both good and evil because we are not perfect. This is what I wholeheartedly believe. I also believe, that at the end of days, every single person -- EVERYONE -- is still composed of good and evil, no matter the choices and actions they have made and taken. And, if someone is composed of both good AND evil, then no one is good and no one is evil. I can almost see the names and faces flashing through your mind at this moment in contest to that statement: Hitler, Mother Theresa, Virgin Mary, etc., etc. Just bear with me.
Imagine with me that everything under the sun is tangible: all emotions, all actions, all choices, all souls, all adjectives, all adverbs; everything can be touched. Now imagine that your soul is nothing but a scale. On one side rests one piece of Good, and on the other, an equal amount of Evil. This is what you are born with, and it cannot be taken away because it is one in the same with the composition of your soul.
After you are born with this scale of Good and Evil, you are set on a road, and as anyone who has ever been exposed to any sort of archetypical literature knows, that road is Life (cliche, I know, but it helps prove my point). At every fork in Life, you have pieces of Good and Evil to show the nature and/or outcome of the choice you make at that side of the fork. The piece you pick up depends on the side you choose to continue on your voyage, and the piece is added to the appropriate side. For example, and at the risk of over-explaining, if you choose what is good, then you pick up Good and add it to the side of the scale where your other Good is. This causes, of course, that side to weigh more than the other. At the end of Life, then, your scale is proof of the amount and kinds of choices you have made, judging by the side of the scale tipped closest to the ground. However, because you must at least have ONE piece on either side that you were born with permanently in your soul, you cannot ever be labeled as a Good Person or a Bad Person.
"Good" and "Bad" are separate and distinct things and can only be used to describe something composed ENTIRELY of one or the other, but not both. Like light and dark: if a room is filled with light and has no shadows, then the room is light. If a room is completely void of light, then it is dark. However, if a room has both light and darkness in it, then the room is neither and both. Depending on the amount of light or dark, though, it can be filled with more of one than the other. People are the same. Because we all have good and bad in us, we cannot be fully good or bad, but we can be neither and both all at once. That doesn't mean that some of us aren't filled with more good than bad or vice versa.
This is very different from the normal aspect on humanity, I think. Because so many people label others as a "good person" or a "bad person," it suggests that instead of adding to the scale as they go along, all the pieces of Good and Evil are already on their scale, either all on one side or balanced when they are born, but as they make choices and actions, they borrow from one side and give to the other. This would suggest, though, that at the end of the road it is possible for someone to be perfect, without any sort of Evil at all, if they only made right decisions, but no one is perfect. It would also suggest that Good and Evil are interchangable (see the importance of looking at it as tanglible? A table and a chair are not the same thing with the same functions.), not separate.
Why is this important? Because if no one is good, and no one is bad, then everyone is capable of both, from the preacher in the pulpit to the junkie down the street. If everyone is capapble of both, then no one should be labeled, everyone should be loved, as equally as the quantity of purity and sin in our hearts the day of our birth. Viewing the heart of everyone this way brings a new equality and temperance to the outlook on humanity, and possessing equality and temperance is the first step to perfect love, grace, and holiness.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Because.
Because I said so.
Because I can.
Because it is.
The answers that used to infuriate me now single-handedly hold all the peace I could ever hope to have. When asking God the question "Why" about...oh, EVERYTHING in my life, I was answered with one word: "Because."
It was the most honest, simple, beautiful response I have ever received from anyone about anything, and it truly explained everything.
Why do bad things happen to good people? Because. Why do good people do bad things? Because. Why do good things happen to bad people? Because. Why does anything have anything to do with anything at all? You get the picture.
Everything does have a reason, and that reason is "because." Any further explanation would smear and smudge the line between what happened and what didn't until it was erased; of this, I am convinced.
I apologize, readers, that this post is not pretty or fancy or even intelligent. But, it is spiritual. You just have to be open-minded enough to get it.
If you're reading this...and you know who you are...fret not. Why am I holding off? Because. Why did all this happen? Because. Why can't I be there? Because. Why WON'T I be there? Because. And let's just leave it at that, my friend. All the other explanations hurt too much, so why bother? Consolation is a gift you build with your own hands, purchase it anyway, choose to give to yourself, and receive. Don't ever forget that. You'll get too lost in the worrying about the whys. Just like I was.
Don't get me wrong. Some things in life you need to know the reason for: the things that you can fix, the things you need to change. But for everything else...because is good enough.
Because I can.
Because it is.
The answers that used to infuriate me now single-handedly hold all the peace I could ever hope to have. When asking God the question "Why" about...oh, EVERYTHING in my life, I was answered with one word: "Because."
It was the most honest, simple, beautiful response I have ever received from anyone about anything, and it truly explained everything.
Why do bad things happen to good people? Because. Why do good people do bad things? Because. Why do good things happen to bad people? Because. Why does anything have anything to do with anything at all? You get the picture.
Everything does have a reason, and that reason is "because." Any further explanation would smear and smudge the line between what happened and what didn't until it was erased; of this, I am convinced.
I apologize, readers, that this post is not pretty or fancy or even intelligent. But, it is spiritual. You just have to be open-minded enough to get it.
If you're reading this...and you know who you are...fret not. Why am I holding off? Because. Why did all this happen? Because. Why can't I be there? Because. Why WON'T I be there? Because. And let's just leave it at that, my friend. All the other explanations hurt too much, so why bother? Consolation is a gift you build with your own hands, purchase it anyway, choose to give to yourself, and receive. Don't ever forget that. You'll get too lost in the worrying about the whys. Just like I was.
Don't get me wrong. Some things in life you need to know the reason for: the things that you can fix, the things you need to change. But for everything else...because is good enough.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Hush Little Baby, Don't Say a Word...
Two weeks ago this Sunday a terrible, heartbreaking thing happened to me and Jeremy.
We lost our child that we didn't know we had.
This...tragedy has happened to me before, but this time it just hurt so much worse. No, we're not financially ready for a child. No, we're not exactly mature enough for a child. But we would both make such great parents. Why then...why would God give us such a precious gift and then take it away?
I feel empty, cold. Like a tomb that can't even carry its dead.
One day, if I am granted this wish, I promise I will try to be the best mother in the world. Just...please, God, give me the chance.
Please pray. Just...pray.
We lost our child that we didn't know we had.
This...tragedy has happened to me before, but this time it just hurt so much worse. No, we're not financially ready for a child. No, we're not exactly mature enough for a child. But we would both make such great parents. Why then...why would God give us such a precious gift and then take it away?
I feel empty, cold. Like a tomb that can't even carry its dead.
One day, if I am granted this wish, I promise I will try to be the best mother in the world. Just...please, God, give me the chance.
Please pray. Just...pray.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
To...Littles, part 2.
[To the readers: she replied in a separate post of her own.]
Back to back, right?
You know, I believe that with enough faith and love to use as footholds, Littles, that if you put your back on one side of the mountain of problems that lay between us, and I put my back on the other, and we push up really hard at the same time, that maybe we'll be able to lift it enough to get our hands underneath it. And if we get our hands underneath it, and push and pull a little harder, so long as we're in unison, we can lift it to our shoulders. And if we do that, well, then we would've made it to the hardest part; but if we rest the mountain on both of our shoulders, it won't be so heavy, and then with a little more gumption and a lot more push, we'll be able to finally heave it up, up, and away...and come together.
My fear, Littles, is that you will not be able to stand with me on opposite sides of the troubles to help me lift, and I simply don't know if I have enough strength within myself to do it all alone. But I will try, I promise you that. I will certainly try my hardest.
Not to say I don't understand. To find someone you love more than this is a beautiful and rare thing, and my dear, we both have found it. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't make any choices different from you. My problem comes with him. Littles, if I were in his shoes, I would do everything differently. But, I'm talking in circles that only you will understand, and I suppose I'm getting too involved in your life, especially since I am no longer welcomed in it. I will cease and desist with this portion of my diary to you.
Again, I find myself at an utter loss for words.
Well, that's actually not correct at all. I find myself overwhelmed and suffocated by so many words that I want to spit out at once like gunfire, that I can't figure out which ones to start with.
The "Enter" key seems to be a good friend right now while I figure it out.
See?
I suppose I could start with everything I must say to you.
Firstly (it's a word, don't argue), I really must say that I am so very sorry. Words alone cannot express to you just how deeply troubled and insanely guilty I feel for the things that I did. Don't shake your head. No -- hush. Listen. I messed up, and I know it. I said hush! You know that old saying, let God be God all by himself? Well, I try to forget it about as often as I can it seems like, and as soon as I do, I hurt someone...like I helped to hurt you. Moreover, I was completely and totally (though unconsciously -- not to excuse myself but to let you know I would never knowingly do this) disrespectful to you.
I have no clue where that came from...made it up on the spot. Anyway, I knew your position in the church, I knew the kind of life you were trying to lead, and I scoffed at it. It took me a long time to realize I had done that. It was a terrible, terrible thing for me to do, and I am so very sorry.
Secondly, I will say that my attempts (all, save this one, have failed) to communicate with you have not been to hurt you. God, that's the last thing I want to do. It's a selfish thing, Littles, but I just do not want you to forget about me. You're one of three other people in this world that remembers or will ever remember who I am, not what I've done. I miss you terribly, but I am not unhappy, nor am I having any trouble surviving. It hurts. It definitely hurts. But I've been through worse. Don't exactly remember what right at the moment...but something.
Thirdly, as I do not want to complicate your life any more than I already have, and as I do not want to hurt you any more than I already have, I will stop these somewhat silly little things completely, at your request. Just post that you wish it, and it will happen. I love you more than myself, Littles, much, much more.
Now, I suppose I can say something that I should say because I love you so much. Littles, you were the first person that came into my life who God used to show me that at the end of my days, I could never stand up and honestly say that I was never loved by someone who, by the laws of proper society, did not "have" to love me. Thank you for being the living and breathing benefit of the doubt as pertains to the good in the world. And if you have ever truly cared about me at all, Littles, you will do me this one favor: keep talking to God, but most of all, don't ever stop listening. Especially when I tell you to.
Back to back, right?
You know, I believe that with enough faith and love to use as footholds, Littles, that if you put your back on one side of the mountain of problems that lay between us, and I put my back on the other, and we push up really hard at the same time, that maybe we'll be able to lift it enough to get our hands underneath it. And if we get our hands underneath it, and push and pull a little harder, so long as we're in unison, we can lift it to our shoulders. And if we do that, well, then we would've made it to the hardest part; but if we rest the mountain on both of our shoulders, it won't be so heavy, and then with a little more gumption and a lot more push, we'll be able to finally heave it up, up, and away...and come together.
My fear, Littles, is that you will not be able to stand with me on opposite sides of the troubles to help me lift, and I simply don't know if I have enough strength within myself to do it all alone. But I will try, I promise you that. I will certainly try my hardest.
Not to say I don't understand. To find someone you love more than this is a beautiful and rare thing, and my dear, we both have found it. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't make any choices different from you. My problem comes with him. Littles, if I were in his shoes, I would do everything differently. But, I'm talking in circles that only you will understand, and I suppose I'm getting too involved in your life, especially since I am no longer welcomed in it. I will cease and desist with this portion of my diary to you.
Again, I find myself at an utter loss for words.
Well, that's actually not correct at all. I find myself overwhelmed and suffocated by so many words that I want to spit out at once like gunfire, that I can't figure out which ones to start with.
The "Enter" key seems to be a good friend right now while I figure it out.
See?
I suppose I could start with everything I must say to you.
Firstly (it's a word, don't argue), I really must say that I am so very sorry. Words alone cannot express to you just how deeply troubled and insanely guilty I feel for the things that I did. Don't shake your head. No -- hush. Listen. I messed up, and I know it. I said hush! You know that old saying, let God be God all by himself? Well, I try to forget it about as often as I can it seems like, and as soon as I do, I hurt someone...like I helped to hurt you. Moreover, I was completely and totally (though unconsciously -- not to excuse myself but to let you know I would never knowingly do this) disrespectful to you.
Yea, though your gait's on the narrow and straight,
I walk beside on the crooked and wide.
Yea, though you say to head over your way,
I take your hand and drag you to my land.
I have no clue where that came from...made it up on the spot. Anyway, I knew your position in the church, I knew the kind of life you were trying to lead, and I scoffed at it. It took me a long time to realize I had done that. It was a terrible, terrible thing for me to do, and I am so very sorry.
Secondly, I will say that my attempts (all, save this one, have failed) to communicate with you have not been to hurt you. God, that's the last thing I want to do. It's a selfish thing, Littles, but I just do not want you to forget about me. You're one of three other people in this world that remembers or will ever remember who I am, not what I've done. I miss you terribly, but I am not unhappy, nor am I having any trouble surviving. It hurts. It definitely hurts. But I've been through worse. Don't exactly remember what right at the moment...but something.
Thirdly, as I do not want to complicate your life any more than I already have, and as I do not want to hurt you any more than I already have, I will stop these somewhat silly little things completely, at your request. Just post that you wish it, and it will happen. I love you more than myself, Littles, much, much more.
Now, I suppose I can say something that I should say because I love you so much. Littles, you were the first person that came into my life who God used to show me that at the end of my days, I could never stand up and honestly say that I was never loved by someone who, by the laws of proper society, did not "have" to love me. Thank you for being the living and breathing benefit of the doubt as pertains to the good in the world. And if you have ever truly cared about me at all, Littles, you will do me this one favor: keep talking to God, but most of all, don't ever stop listening. Especially when I tell you to.
I don't know who I am, who I am without you.
All I know is that I should.
I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you.
All I know is that I should.
'Cause [he] will love you more than I could,
[he] who dares to stand where I stood.
And I won't be far from where you are,
if ever you should call.
You meant more to me than anyone
I ever loved at all.
But you taught me how to trust myself,
and so I say to you,
this is what I have to do...
Monday, July 5, 2010
To...Littles.
Littles, you know who you are.
You are my best friend.
You are my peace.
You are my sister.
Wait. No, no that's not right.
You're all of these things except, mine.
To be honest, I'm not sure where I'm going with this post. I don't really write this way, all letter/short story form and all. I don't know how to begin it, but I'm going to force you to sit through my free writing while I figure it out because if I stop typing now, I'll chicken out.
First and foremost, I suppose I should explain my title, "Musings of a Mockingbird." See, mockingbirds are innocent beings. They don't hurt anyone. They don't eat up crops or tear up yards or not move out of the middle of the road when you're driving 100 mph just because they're too stupid to stop eating their road kill for a half a second. That's why it's a sin to kill them, a phrase coined by my favorite author in my favorite book.
Do you know what a mockingbird does do, Littles? A mockingbird does exactly what it's name accuses it of doing: it mocks birds. Specifically, their songs. A mockingbird can sound like just about any dad-gone bird it wants to, and that's what makes it so beautiful. Not only do you get to hear the whippoorwill, but in the same song, a morning dove. And not only do you get to hear a morning dove, but immediately a robin's tune will follow suit. A mockingbird has the ability to sound like all the beauty of the birds, and it does.
I, of course, am not a mockingbird, but a person. And being a person means I'm a guilty, wretched, sinful being that deserves to die and die twice, not only for the nightmarish things I have done, but for the things I am simply capable of doing.
But, mockingbirds and people are more similar than it seems on the surface. We can and do mock anything we see or hear. Sometimes -- most of the time -- this is not a good thing. Someone sees someone hurting another someone, so the first someone goes and hurts yet another separate someone. That is an endless, vicious cycle, showcasing the handicap of mockery.
However, the benefit to imitation is not lost to this world. A child sees his church family tithing and makes a point to give the appropriate portion of his chore money to the church every Sunday. A teenager sees his parents still in love with each other completely with mutual respect and equality, and seeks to treat his other half the same at every stage of life. This kind of mockery is what I strive for, at least, somewhere down deep inside myself. Oh, my lifestyle may be unconventional, and my speech a little crude, and my habits a little less than honorable, but nevertheless, I try so hard to look at the wonderful people God has so richly blessed me with in my life, and mimic their hearts.
I suppose that's why I chose my title, because these posts are not from the dark, evil side of me. They are from the side that does nothing but love like those around me...because that's all I can do when it comes to you, Littles. Love.
Oh, how I miss you. You are the most prominent of those wonderful people, and your absence is so painful. I do not say this to strap a guilty chain around your chest, either, Littles. I simply want you to know just how much I care about you, because if I didn't care about you, it wouldn't hurt at all.
I suppose it's silly, really, but I do things like I would do them if you were here. For instance, it makes me look like a raving lunatic, but I blare Relient K's "Must Have Done Something Right" in the car just as loud is it can go, and I put back the sunroof, and I sing as loudly as I can, and I point to the empty passenger's seat at parts like "If anyone could make me a better person you could..." because, before, you were there, pointing back at me. Oh, and I made spaghetti the other night and put cheddar cheese on it, even though I hate cheddar cheese on my spaghetti, just because that's how you always did it. And I went downtown Chattanooga just to walk around, and ate at Mudpie, and did the little dance steps in the side walk because it reminded me of you...but I couldn't go down the walking bridge because it was on that bridge that I fell in love with you in the friendship way we both fell in love with each other, and that hurt too much. I did, however go to the park, and I went to the stairs under the Market St. bridge, and all of a sudden I could hear the bluegrass music from the Pigeon Mountain Boys (or whatever they were called) and I was sitting there with you again, singing old gospel hymns. And I made Jeremy learn "Take My Hand, Precious Lord," but he doesn't like to play it, and he doesn't know the words, so singing it with him isn't the same truly spiritual experience as it is with you. I look at our pictures almost everyday. And I cry, and I cry, and I cry, trying to fill up the void in my life and in my soul with tears until it overflows, thinking that MAYBE if I could do that, it wouldn't hurt so damn much, but it never works. I search for little lime green cars on the road, hoping one day I'll see yours, and I'll get to drive up beside you and just...look. I got sick and wanted you, even cried out for you out loud. I can't go to Wal-Mart or Taco Bell or the mall or my house or the apartment or even look at a hotel (hahahahaha) without thinking about you. I went to North Carolina because Jeremy's grandfather died, and I had to drive through Charlotte, and I remember wanting to blow it up because of even more memories of you. And...
Last but not least, Littles, I pray, because I know that's what you'd tell me to do if you were here. I pray for you, for me, and for security within myself that I WILL see you again while we are both living and breathing on this Earth and I still know you.
I don't know if that day will ever come, but I do know that I am going to keep writing you these one-sided messages that mock conversation, hoping that it does, and I get to look at you and say, "I love you, my Littles," and actually hear you say it back, and know that you are mine again.
Until then --
You are my best friend.
You are my peace.
You are my sister.
Wait. No, no that's not right.
You're all of these things except, mine.
To be honest, I'm not sure where I'm going with this post. I don't really write this way, all letter/short story form and all. I don't know how to begin it, but I'm going to force you to sit through my free writing while I figure it out because if I stop typing now, I'll chicken out.
First and foremost, I suppose I should explain my title, "Musings of a Mockingbird." See, mockingbirds are innocent beings. They don't hurt anyone. They don't eat up crops or tear up yards or not move out of the middle of the road when you're driving 100 mph just because they're too stupid to stop eating their road kill for a half a second. That's why it's a sin to kill them, a phrase coined by my favorite author in my favorite book.
Do you know what a mockingbird does do, Littles? A mockingbird does exactly what it's name accuses it of doing: it mocks birds. Specifically, their songs. A mockingbird can sound like just about any dad-gone bird it wants to, and that's what makes it so beautiful. Not only do you get to hear the whippoorwill, but in the same song, a morning dove. And not only do you get to hear a morning dove, but immediately a robin's tune will follow suit. A mockingbird has the ability to sound like all the beauty of the birds, and it does.
I, of course, am not a mockingbird, but a person. And being a person means I'm a guilty, wretched, sinful being that deserves to die and die twice, not only for the nightmarish things I have done, but for the things I am simply capable of doing.
But, mockingbirds and people are more similar than it seems on the surface. We can and do mock anything we see or hear. Sometimes -- most of the time -- this is not a good thing. Someone sees someone hurting another someone, so the first someone goes and hurts yet another separate someone. That is an endless, vicious cycle, showcasing the handicap of mockery.
However, the benefit to imitation is not lost to this world. A child sees his church family tithing and makes a point to give the appropriate portion of his chore money to the church every Sunday. A teenager sees his parents still in love with each other completely with mutual respect and equality, and seeks to treat his other half the same at every stage of life. This kind of mockery is what I strive for, at least, somewhere down deep inside myself. Oh, my lifestyle may be unconventional, and my speech a little crude, and my habits a little less than honorable, but nevertheless, I try so hard to look at the wonderful people God has so richly blessed me with in my life, and mimic their hearts.
I suppose that's why I chose my title, because these posts are not from the dark, evil side of me. They are from the side that does nothing but love like those around me...because that's all I can do when it comes to you, Littles. Love.
Oh, how I miss you. You are the most prominent of those wonderful people, and your absence is so painful. I do not say this to strap a guilty chain around your chest, either, Littles. I simply want you to know just how much I care about you, because if I didn't care about you, it wouldn't hurt at all.
I suppose it's silly, really, but I do things like I would do them if you were here. For instance, it makes me look like a raving lunatic, but I blare Relient K's "Must Have Done Something Right" in the car just as loud is it can go, and I put back the sunroof, and I sing as loudly as I can, and I point to the empty passenger's seat at parts like "If anyone could make me a better person you could..." because, before, you were there, pointing back at me. Oh, and I made spaghetti the other night and put cheddar cheese on it, even though I hate cheddar cheese on my spaghetti, just because that's how you always did it. And I went downtown Chattanooga just to walk around, and ate at Mudpie, and did the little dance steps in the side walk because it reminded me of you...but I couldn't go down the walking bridge because it was on that bridge that I fell in love with you in the friendship way we both fell in love with each other, and that hurt too much. I did, however go to the park, and I went to the stairs under the Market St. bridge, and all of a sudden I could hear the bluegrass music from the Pigeon Mountain Boys (or whatever they were called) and I was sitting there with you again, singing old gospel hymns. And I made Jeremy learn "Take My Hand, Precious Lord," but he doesn't like to play it, and he doesn't know the words, so singing it with him isn't the same truly spiritual experience as it is with you. I look at our pictures almost everyday. And I cry, and I cry, and I cry, trying to fill up the void in my life and in my soul with tears until it overflows, thinking that MAYBE if I could do that, it wouldn't hurt so damn much, but it never works. I search for little lime green cars on the road, hoping one day I'll see yours, and I'll get to drive up beside you and just...look. I got sick and wanted you, even cried out for you out loud. I can't go to Wal-Mart or Taco Bell or the mall or my house or the apartment or even look at a hotel (hahahahaha) without thinking about you. I went to North Carolina because Jeremy's grandfather died, and I had to drive through Charlotte, and I remember wanting to blow it up because of even more memories of you. And...
Last but not least, Littles, I pray, because I know that's what you'd tell me to do if you were here. I pray for you, for me, and for security within myself that I WILL see you again while we are both living and breathing on this Earth and I still know you.
I don't know if that day will ever come, but I do know that I am going to keep writing you these one-sided messages that mock conversation, hoping that it does, and I get to look at you and say, "I love you, my Littles," and actually hear you say it back, and know that you are mine again.
Until then --
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)