I am going to treat this entry like it’s not a journal entry; but more, I’m going to treat this like a conversation between two people.
Better yet, I’m going to treat this like it was when we were kids, just a boy and a girl, on the phone, late at night, and capable of talking about anything for hours.
I want this to be simple and pure, the same as life should be simple and no additives, no preservatives, and no unneeded complications, and no worries about what’s going on outside or in other parts of the world.
There’s no one else here, except for us two kids.
What do you want, you ask me.
You mean, as in right now?
Yes, right now.
What do you want?
I love this question, though it has different windows, different rooms, different parts, different walls, and different dreams that takes place in different castles.
What do I want?
I want to live in a world where I can shut off the rest of the world.
If that makes sense.
I want a breath of nostalgia.
I want to go back to the simplest things, like when the ice cream truck came on the block in the summertime and we ate candies or an ice pop that changed the color of our tongue.
I want to feel the wonder of moments that live forever, like the 4th of July, just before the sky takes on the stage of darkness and the rumbles of fireworks prepare to celebrate in streams of color.
I want to feel that feeling I had in my heart when my Grandmother touched my hand, soft and warm, and comforting as one could ever request, perfect too, like a touch beyond the love of any other touch, softer than a chenille blanket. I want to hear another bedtime story from her, and I want to hear her tell me how they all lived happily ever after, and then brushed the hair from my face to drift me to sleep and tell me goodnight.
I believe there are different vehicles that can take us to different places in the heart. I believe in the different ways, and the different lights, and the different rays of hope.
I want to find that vehicle of peace and feel the thrill of unconditional hope, love, wonder, and joy.
I want to give up the falsehoods of manhood or the postures of being tough.
I don’t want to be tough.
I want to be simple and pure.
I want the fairytale.
Yes, I want this. And yes, even as a man, or even as a grown man, or even as someone who poses or pretends and hopes to be strong (someday), I want to enter into the place where I am found, where I belong, where I’ve been waited for, loved, and believed in and more, I want the feeling that always seems to manifest when I see fireflies for the first time in early summer.
I want to give Sunday its meaning back. I want to have a day like this, of rest, of happiness, of carefree abandon, and I want to sink into the comforts of a scene that is not rehearsed or dressed or decorated to be something more than it is.
I want my early dinnertime and a perfect view of the sunset.
Is that so wrong?
I don’t need the mansions or the fake and plastic scenarios of a dressed-up life.
I don’t need to be a millionaire or anything like that because I see that wealth is much, much more.
Do you want to know what I want?
I want this . . .
I want to laugh or smile, like kids do.
I want this because when you’re a kid, you can laugh a certain way because you have yet to reach the age where hope is spoiled by the fears of imperfections and insecurity.
I want to have my childish heart again, which is the one that believes in miracles, happy endings, fairytales, and even when someone comes along to argue, I want the purity in my soul which refuses to be discouraged.
I want to believe in the good guys and heroes and the so-called American way, which I was told about in school.
Remember?
This is where life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness is not just an optimal condition, but simply—this is the way things are.
I want to relearn how to dance again, slowly, and I want to let a candle burn in the backyard on the green grass, just as the sun takes its last run of color before sinking and going away.
I want to dance softly and slowly. I don’t want to care who sees or who says what to who because in the end, no one else matters (except for me and you).
I want to feel that feeling.
I want to be that free.
I want to unwind and undo all the complications and let them go, like a caterpillar kept in a jar. I want this to evolve, like butterflies and all, and just as God intended. I want to be here with you (with me) and not care about the oddness of my laugh or the imperfections of my grin.
I want to look at you as you look at me and be able to tell that you do not see any of those things.
I want to love you.
No. Wait.
I want to celebrate you.
I want to see you smile and enjoy your happiness, and feel you like the way I felt the very first time my Mom made me a glass of her best iced tea.
See what I mean about the different vehicles of peace?
Mom used the 4C brand of iced tea. But no one made iced tea like Mom did.
I’m sure you can understand.
It’s the same as eating a store-bought tomato and tasting the sweetness from a tomato grown from a garden of love.
There’s just no comparison.
But I’m sure you get that.
I mentioned earlier about the vehicle of peace and how there are different vehicles that can take us to different places in the heart.
I want that feeling.
I want the world on a string.
I want to lasso the moon and capture this in a jar, and like a boy who sits on the dock at the edge of a lake, sitting next to his childhood love, I want her to be you and I want me to be him. I want all of this, just so I can give it all to you.
I want to offer this and profess this and share this like a dozen roses from the soul. Maybe this is more like a prayer from the heart, or in the depths of midnight, when the moonlight beams through the window, I want to let the colors of electric blue, fill the bedroom, and as I look over to watch you sleeping peacefully, I want to notice a semi-smile on your face.
I want to see this, as if this is all you’ve ever wanted, and I, with all of my heart and soul — I can watch and admire you with the purity of young love. With the hope of sacrificed virginity, with the truth of purity, the spirit of life and forever after, I want to look at you, laying next to me, with me, and above all, I want to rest in the comfort that not even fear an take you away from me.
Nothing can.
Never . . .
Do you want to know what I want?
I want this.
Is that too much to ask?
Oh, and one more thing.
I want to strip away the ideas you have that anything about you could be anything other than beautiful because, in all fairness, I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you . . .
And deep down, I want you to know it.
I want you to feel it.
I want this to build in you, like a confidence which tells you —
You can take on the world!
I wish I had the balls or the courage to tell you all these things because no one deserves to hear them more than you.
But it’s like that song from the 80’s, remember?
“But the words get in the way . . . “
I don’t want anyone in the world to know me like you do . . .
. . . because if I had that –
then I would have a world away from the world.
If you ask me, I don’t think anything else would matter.
There is so much more I want to say
and so much more that I want to tell you.
But this is now
and here I am, holding everything I have in the palm of my hand (again) tiny as ever, like a glowing seed from nothing and nowhere; but still, this is me and this is all that I have, and here I am, opening my grip while hoping that what I have is enough . . .
for you to have me too.
The Written Addiction 