A Witness Through the Window – Entry 27

I don’t know what you see, at least not really.
I talk about this often but the phenomenon of sight is not provably the same from one eye to another. I cannot say that I know for sure what the color red or blue will look like to someone else. I can’t tell how yellow the dandelions are to someone else nor will I know if my experience with the smell from a honeysuckle bush is the same to anyone else. I bring this up because our associations and our experiences are different. Our views are not the same and neither is our experiences. Yet, we think and we feel and there are times when we assume people think, or see, or feel the same way.
Well, the truth is I don’t know what anyone else sees.
So for the moment, I’d like to offer an explanation of what I see with hopes that you can see your way clear to notice me and see that what I say is true.

I know that two different people can see the exact same thing yet they’ll walk away with two different perceptions of what just happened. I suppose my reason for explaining this to you is simple.
As I move along in my entries, the goal is to give you a view of what happened in my life by adding the different fixtures of my journey, such as the fixtures of my emotions and the sentimental attachments. Thus far, I have traveled across the world in some regards. I have traveled a million miles; yet, I’ve gone nowhere. There are so many things that I have not seen, at least not yet. But there are things that I have seen which are fathomless and irreplaceable.
There are places I have been and moments like mornings in my City where the downtown scene was open for breakfast. I will hold these times which were simple and perhaps easily forgettable to others – but ah, to me, I will always remember the amazement of this and its attachment to my future.

But then there’s the subject of love. . .
I don’t know what this looks like or feels like to anyone else. I don’t know what the different versions of love feel like to anyone but me. This here is my version of reds and blues and the yellows which color me as someone who is fascinated by the truth of who I am and what I feel.
I never knew that people could walk in through a doorway and then suddenly, life changes.
Right then and there.
I only know what I see. I know what I think.
I know that my version of love might not match anyone else. I also know that my different categories of fascination are designed by my own personal chemistry. 

I know what love feels like to me; therefore, I know what lust feels like as well. I understand the different sensations of touch and the amazement I feel, deep down within me especially when all feelings combine; when my heat is triggered by the feel and the sensation of touch, matched in a collaboration of emotion, I know that to me, the result is cosmic – or better yet, out of this world.
I know all about the conscious awareness of being connected to someone and to feel something so deeply that nothing can separate me. Nothing can distract me. Though my life is not perfect and neither am I, there is something perfect about the connection of my love. Even when love does not make sense or even when life is out of control; or in my case, even when the anxiety machine takes off, I have to know that there is love for me. 

I don’t know what anyone else sees or feels. I don’t know what a person senses when they experience this. As I write this to you, I don’t know what you see. I don’t know if the picture I am painting in my head will match the interpretation in your mind. But either way, here it goes.

Yes, I do believe in love. And yes, I do believe in love at first sight.
Do I believe that love can be a rarity?
Maybe . . .
Do I see that true love is not always common?
Do I notice that love is not as noticeable as the way people feel contempt or frustration?
Sure, I see that too.

I am a very real person.
I am someone who lives in a very real world. Yet, I am hopeful that what I see is only a version because I am open to being corrected. I am hopeful that good does exist and I’m sure it does, even though it’s not as easy to notice as the scams on the street – I know that love is around here (somewhere).

I know what love feels like to me.
I know what my hand experiences when I touch the softness of skin. I know about my preference for curves and how I love the details of the body – or especially, I love to trace the outlines of my love; to feel every spot or touch every inch and to experience the satisfaction of her when she responds to me. This is love too. To offer the pleasure and not just receive it.
I love this.

I am aware of heartbreak. I know what rejection feels like. I know about the foolishness of deception and the pains of humiliation. I know this is all too real for so many of us.
I think that above all, this is human and to most people heartaches and letdowns can be par for the course. I know that my life belongs to me and, therefore, it would be wrong and inaccurate to assume others think and feel or see things the same as I do. 

All too often I see people hold others accountable for the wrongs in their past and, therefore, their past becomes their future, destined to repeat itself – ongoing, endlessly unless, of course, we decide to break the cycle.

I know that there are times when I slip into my fears. There are times when my emotions collide and anxiety gets in the way. I know that there are times when the receptors in my brain begin to misfire and there are times when my frustrations become insurmountable. Instantly, I become a bitch!
I know this because I am human and I know this because I’ve decided to take responsibility and understand my own inventory.
So therefore, I get it.
I can see where I lose myself and I can see where my thinking can become disloyal to me.
As a result, there are times when I act up or lash out at the people I love the most. 
I offer this as no excuse; but more, I offer this explanation as a gesture of my imperfections.

But more, I know that my mistakes or misgivings are not intentional. Therefore, I know that knowing is not enough.
This means I have the responsibility to my love that I can, must, and will improve because my love is enough to motivate me to be better (and feel better as well).

There are times when my chemistry is off. There are moments when it is nearly impossible to see clearly. My moods are unrewarding during these moments and my levels of energy become catabolic and draining. I say catabolic and draining as opposed to anabolic and flourishing. I know all about this.
I know all about my faults.
In fact, I call them “me.”

There are things that I have yet to see or touch and feel. Some of these things are simple too, or silly things maybe like a surprise birthday party for example or a birthday gift that is so meaningful; the gift is lifelong and unforgettable. Maybe that’s what this is all about. Maybe this is what I have and since I have it, I want to give this to you.

I always think about a quote that came from Robin Williams:
He said, “I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.”
I say this is true.
I can also say that this is true when it comes to love. There are times when our pain hurts and there are times when our belt is tight, and times when the dark is frightening; but dammit all, when love comes to mind, I would give my last hour of candlelight just so my love would never have to spend one second in the dark. 

Love is not about the perfection of love or about the unblemished life. No, my love is blind yet my love sees everything because nothing else matters nor should it matter.
My love is aware of faults yet my love still exists because faults and all, without my love, I would have nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Without my love, I would have no hope or drive. Without this, I would have no reason to keep going or keep trying to find my place in the circle.

I don’t know what you’re seeing now or if you’re seeing anything at all.
But . . . if you are here to act as my witness to the world, then I hope you see that I am openly bleeding and exposing myself to be vulnerable as ever, humbly, imperfectly flawed, and I am here to show you that I am as real as the words on this page. 

So, if I am being personal or if this seems too raw and personal, then the reason is because this is simple. Yes, this is both raw and personal to me. Yes, I expose this here and now, both openly and humbly because if I am going to be honest and if I am going to give you something to witness then let me make this raw and true.

There was a show that I watched more times than I can count. The show is not altogether popular;, at least not here in the States. This is more of an England thing.
The name of the show is not important; however, the show is something poignant to me.
Either way, there was a desperate and sad scene where a nurse was praying for a person who almost took their own life.

The nurse chose to pray with a verse from Romans 10:9 but this is not about God or religion.
No, this is about something else to me.

Although the nurse’s version differs slightly from the original tex, the verse is about faith.
And faith means a lot.
(Trust me on this one)

There is one part of this verse which, to me, is more than a verse about religion – and to me this verse about faith explains the true depth of my love. But the verse goes on and at 10:10 it says: For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.

To me, this is why the words “I love you” are so important.
They save us in little pieces at a time.
Little pieces can be huge (sometimes).
This is what I profess and as a confession of my love, this is what keeps me alive –
and going. 

Therefore, it is by my mouth and by my hands, by my work and by my blood and sweat that I do profess this – my love is most absolutely true. This is all I have and all I can offer. Therefore, I’m going to share this here, exposed and all . . .
and leave this here with you.
My love

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