Safe to say that we might need to remove ourselves from the equation to understand the math of what’s going on. Safe to say that hindsight is not aways kind, and yes, it is sufficient to say that awareness takes time. Even still, no matter how aware we are, awareness has more than one side of the pill to swallow.
There is always the obvious side of awareness, which are the facts that open up in plain sight. Knowing is not the same as feeling or believing. Therefore, the other side of the pill is the acceptance side, which is the emotional side, and this is where the struggle begins.
I can admit to my faults or my flaws. I can see where I went wrong or note down why something broke or fell apart. This is the obvious side.
The other side is the emotional side, which is where I struggle with my undesirable outcomes or the unchangeable aftermaths of what’s taken place.
We can fight. We can spit. We can scream too, but fact is fact and no amount of pretending can change what took place.
Safe to say a man can bang his head in the same spot, a thousand times, and still might never learn his lesson.
Life happens. People change. We grow and we split, and sometimes, we circle back. Oftentimes, we move on, or we move away from our past life, which is behind us now, like a small town in the rearview mirror of the bus after leaving the station.
I have often thought about trips like this, like a bus or a train, as if to start my trip by packing up a small bag. I could grab my trusty laptop to write my thoughts, and then leave behind the unwanted stress of a life less desired.
Some would say that I am far too cerebral. Some have suggested that I am too sensitive, or far too passionate.
Some have told me that I must toughen up and thicken my skin.
I understand this. But only partly.
I realize that this is life, and that life is cold and sharp, and that the truth can cut fast and deep, like a white-hot knife. I have been told that the truth hurts which, again, I understand.
But while I bang my head in the same spot a thousand times, there is something in me that refuses to give in.
Safe to say that I am not the only one undergoing life as it unfolds. Suffice to say that I am not the only one who is made to endure loss.
I am not the only one who will learn the hard news that loved ones are sick, or that people die, or that love as it stands might not always stand forever.
And yes, I mention love.
And yes, I mention love again.
And love?
Or love as it is, or love as we think love should be?
These are great questions to think about.
Life is life and love is love, and the dreams we have will change, just like the shoreline along seaside, or no different from the sands at the beach that cushion our footsteps and award them with a special indentation; I am reminded that this is life, happening right now. Therefore, I am reminded that life happens without regard for emotion or heartbreak.
Life happens without regard for us or what we think.
This is life, moving faster and growing, evolving and changing day by day, which is not to say that everything is going to change—because much like the indentations that our footprints leave in the sands, our life leaves behind a score, or a map of our past that leaves behind a kind of insignia, which can never be altered nor taken away.
Nothing can stop the glory of love. Nothing can replace the feel nor the touch or sensation of true love, to which I sit before you humbly and wanting, hopeful, and I am praying to the, “Above” as I report that love has its moments where all else is evasive at best.
I equally sit before you to confess with my tough and with my heart that true love can never be replicated nor duplicated; nor can true love be fabricated, faked, nor can true love be recreated, mimicked, nor can an imposter change who, what, or why love is felt from within.
Love is the most magical occurrence in the universe.
I do not say that true love is perfect, nor can we say that either of us are perfect. However, true love is equipped with pain, disappointments and sadness; yet, the part that is wholesome and true and the part of us that are inseparable, or unstoppable, is what bonds us together like nothing else.
Love is complete with imperfections.
So, despite the moments apart, or the temporary feuds which distracted us from our truth, and despite the brokenness or the heartaches which have taken place—it is not only unthinkable, but impossible to destroy and separate true love from its roots.
I know this.
I feel it.
Thus, I believe in this with all of my heart.
Sometimes, we have to remove ourselves to heal or reset. Then, a light comes, as if fate knew this would be the perfect time to show us the heavens.
And then we learn, “this is the way!” and then perhaps in slow motion, I can see life evolve like the opening of a flower as it blossoms at the birth of spring.
This is love to me.
I have done things which I am far from proud of. I have spoken out of anger. I have been dishonest to myself and to others. I have allowed my thoughts to be carried away and thus, I have caused myself to think my way into my own insanity, afraid that the sky is falling, and petrified that my irrational fears are real, and that I should look out because all my greatest fears are about to happen.
Beware of this.
Be mindful.
Be careful.
Be you.
Let me be me.
Or better yet . . .
Let me see myself the way I would in the reflection of your eyes, to which I can see myself for miles, out in the vastness of a never-ending journey.
I want to unravel.
I want to rewrite this.
I want to relive the moment when I saw you for the first time, and just like that, everything was fine.
I am looking for the rainbow.
I’ll be watching for the signs from the shoreline at the beach.
Or as I told you before, I cannot think about what was behind us, nor can I focus on the uphill climb that’s ahead of me.
Sometimes, you have to back up or back away for a minute, just to get a better look from a broader perspective.
The Written Addiction 