All For More (Or Less)

The mind is the trick.
I know.
And as for thoughts?
Our thoughts are just thoughts and feelings are just feelings.
Emotion is emotion and life is life.
We both understand this.

I know that we are all involved in this big project which I often call Project Earth.
And therefore, what i tell you is something that I have to tell you.
I have to say this because leaving this unsaid would be another sin for me to face.

I know that we are interconnected for reasons that we might not always understand. or for example, some people teach us to be better. Some teach us what to do, and others teach us what to stay away from.
But again, all s relative. Like you and I, for example.
And relatively speaking, you and I have all the reasons to either run and hide or to dare the world and take the risks.

I know the same as a person can push us to be our best, it is also safe to say that people can push us to be our worst.
This is why I am here. This is why I am reaching out to you.
This is why life pulled its own trick and this is why life caused us to cross each other’s path.
Nothing is an accident. Not even accidents.
And I know this.

However, and as for you and I, it is impossible for two people us to be some kind of random thing. It would be far too unfair for me to see you or known you and not to love you or have you as my own.

Nothing about you is random to me.
Nothing about this is random because while I have fallen and confessed to the falls of my diseased thinking, fate has taken me to where I am.
Here . . .
Destiny has brought me to you in more ways than one.
Or even better, destiny has brought me to you more than once.

And while I might be talking out loud and even if you are only with me in spirit and your body is elsewhere, I am here for the only reason that makes sense to me.

You —

Life is filled with so many amazing things. Then again, I suppose that even amazement is relative because I am still amazed that we are where we are. I am amazed at how far we’ve come and despite all we’ve learned, it amazes me that we keep running into the same walls or falling down the same holes.

I am told that time heals all wounds.
I wonder if time is a good teacher. Or is pain a better teacher?
Pain is definitely a teacher. Only, we tend to forget the value in our lessons after the pains go away.

You and I both know that life is happening. This is all live and in-person.
There is no dress rehearsal.
Or like it is with me, here and now, none of this is accidental.
Incidental, yes.
But none of this is by accident.

I have life to face. I have choices that were made and chances I took, —and even more, I have come here to defend myself.
I am here to confess. And I am here to defend myself, which is not meant to be defensive at all because in all fairness, there is no defense when it comes to undefendable things.
At best, all one can do is account for their actions. Or in my case, all I can do is stand tall and keep my chin up because at best, all anyone can do is face the truth.
I know there is no way to absolve myself when we I unfairly. And yes, words do have meaning. And words do hurt. Hence, this is why I say there is no defense when we do or say an unkind thing.

I know. And so do you.
It is easier too when it comes to pointing fingers or blaming someone else. It’s easy to find some kind of justification as to why we are how we are. It’s easy to deflect when in fact, we all know why we are how we are.

We might not always know how to verbalize our ways or we might have struggles addressing our truths. But in the end, we are all far smarter than we believe.
And there I go again.
I say the word, “believe,” which proves to me that the mind is the trick.

What is it that allows us to act out? Why do we yell?
We do we lie?
Why do we fight with the one we love the most?
And why do we settle for less when we know that we want more.
More.
I love that word.
More.
We all want more.
Yet, we settle for less.
But why?
Why do we lack self-confidence?
Why are we insecure?
Why do we care so much about what other people think, say, or do?
And even if we pretend or act like we don’t care, why are people the most hurtful thing in this world?

Why did I hurt people I loved?
Why did the people I love hurt me?

I agree with Mark Twain when he wrote, “Man is the only animal that blushes—or needs to.”

And I know why I blush. I know why I have secrets.
I know that I have embarrassed and humiliated myself.
But why?

I have been talking about this for years. I have been telling people about the five fingers of rejective thinking which are blame, shame, fault, guilt, and regret.
I mention this often because any of these ingredients are enough to degrade the soul. Any of these five ingredients can cause us to lose sight of our better version of self.

Doubt is a killer. And fears are equally deadly.
All of these are harmful, especially when we allow the above to rule our decisions, or keep us stuck.

But whether I am forced to walk the line or made to serve a longer prison sentence; I have no choice but to face my accusations.
I have no choice but to answer my accusers.
I have no choice but to address my shortcomings because admitting that I am at fault does nothing for me or for anyone else.
Admitting my mistakes is only part of my battle.

I cannot sit here and admit to the accusations or my wrongs without accepting the accountabilities that go with them.
No, I have to accept what I have done, face what I have done, and if possible, I have to answer with a full heart and respond to what I have done.
I have to face this. Otherwise, I will be running from them and this, or from my guilt, or even from you, and thus; this will be me —this will be my life until my last breath. And to be clear, I have run too far and for too long, just to go nowhere and find myself in the same position.
I refuse to let myself be tied to the weights and the chains of my five fingers of rejective thinking.

But, please.
Please allow me to say this,
Allow me this moment.
You can hear my now and listen to me later
(or not at all)
But please let me explain why I come here.

You –

You are far more valuable than you believe. And please, before we go on, let me explain that I understand.
I understand that the value of my words can be argues. However, my sincerity is all that I have left.

I understand the unbalanced feelings that come with unsureness or the thoughts which follow when you believe you’re not enough.
This is the belief that has degraded me to the core.

I understand the ideas that happen when the people who are supposed to choose you first are the people who chose you last.
I understand abandonment.
I know what pain is.
I know pain, personally.
And I’m sure that you do as well.

I know about rejection on a first name basis. And I know how it feels to be angry or mad as hell. Or in my case, I know all too much about the fringe between sanity and losing my mind.
Perhaps this is why I lost most of my mind, a long time ago.

But the things you see?
The things you’ve told me about yourself.
These so-called faults or flaws or the ideas that you have that anything about you is unsightly or unattractive is simply not true.

I know you well.
I know the inches and the swerve of your curves.
I know that marks on your skin, which keep me company when I am dreaming of you.

You. . . Are. . . Beautiful. . .

I know this.
I have known about this for a very long time.
I can see how people looked to keep this a secret from you. Otherwise, you would see your value and realize that you deserve more.
I have never lost track of who you are and nor have I ever forgotten you.
I have not lost sight of your memory, despite the years that have gone by since our very first encounter.

I know that the eyes are the windows of the soul.
And yours?
Your eyes are filled with stories and emotions.
Your heart beats like a drum to me, which maybe only I can hear.
Or so I hope because if I am the only one who hears you, then let me hear you because your frequency is only meant to be heard by me.
I don’t want anyone else to have this connection with you.
So, then please, if this is love, let this be mine.

You are nothing like anyone else in this world—or perhaps I should say that no one is like you.
No one compares. No one comes close, and yet, you fail to see this because somewhere, or somehow, you fell for the lies which told you that you are anything other than beautiful.

And maybe it was me.
Maybe I made the mistake of not showing you the truth, which is that you are far more beautiful than any man deserves.
You are far more precious than any man could comprehend.
I swear.
I swear to this with all I have.

Your voice is soft and sweet.
Everything about you.
All of you.
Each and every section of you screams with with a wholesome brand of erotic sexuality. And I cannot take this,
Not like this.
Not separately, at least.
Hence, this is why I share this with you because above all; I need you.

The way you are is far more than you understand, like, say, the warmth that comes from you, or how your love bleeds in such a way, —none of this could be equaled by anyone.
Or maybe this is just me.
Maybe this is how I see you.
Maybe this is why I see you as the most beautiful girl in my world.
And forgive me. Please.
My fault is that I wasn’t there to let you know this throughout the years of your life without me.
It is my fault that I missed my chance to remind you.

But I am here, now.
I am here to let you know that I am here, if you’ll have me.

Part of my sins is leaving too much unsaid or undone. Another part is allowing my intimidations to act as a false bravado.
Or more to the point, much of my wrongs are linked to the insecure parts that lead me to manipulate or womanize or destroy my past opportunities to be my best possible self.

I lost too much to allow myself to lose again.
Therefore, I do not deny my sins, nor do I deny the accusations, and as I plea to each and respond to the allegations with the response, of not guilty, guilty, and no contest, —I stand before you as a man in progress.

Then again, I stand before you as a man redefined because to be a man, I have to define what it means to be a man, —and to me, a man is more than might, more than toughness, more than strength, and to be more to the point, a real man knows when to be delicate and gentle, when to stand, when to rest, when to listen, and when to speak.

I am humbled now, down to my core and from the top of my head, down to the soles of my feet.
I stand on weaker grounds, and I rest in a modest domain.
I am weak in some regards but strong enough to risk everything and dare the world to ask for your hand.

The thing I am most proud of is despite my past and the reasons I have to stand before the judges and the courts, and despite my flaws, at least I dared.
At least I came to you.
At least I come here, which is where I choose to find you.

At least I stood in the face of my accusations and despite them all, I bowed my head with humility to you, —and I let you know that no matter where you go, where you are, what happens, you will always be the most beautiful girl that my eyes have ever seen.

I do hereby swear to this testimony as my truth
So, help me God!