Waiting For The Wind To Pick Up

I have never been anyone else. Therefore, I cannot say what it means to think or feel like anyone else would.
I never looked at myself in the mirror and believed that I was born in the wrong body.
But yes. I have looked in the mirror and believed that I was born in the wrong life.
Safe to say . . .
I have other issues or challenges with my reflection.

Then again, one man’s poison is another man’s pleasure and whether I appreciate what I see or find a sense of confidence when I look at myself in the mirror, I do believe that someone out there sees me as perfect.
At least, I am perfect for them.
Or, so I hope.

I have seen the crimes of insecurity and noticed the thefts of service or how our insecure assumptions rob us from the possibilities of happiness.
It is possible too. . .
You know?
Maybe there is something more to me.
Maybe there is something beautiful too.

It amazes me how we mistake insults for truth or that we believe and invest in them.

18 years-old

I never had a real girlfriend before her.
Then again my younger years were spent differently than the average or regular and everyday teenager.
I met a girl . . .
This is love, or so I thought.

This is love
Or this has to be love.
Or, so I hoped

She was someone from another town, which meant that she did not know the stories the embarrassing details that I never wanted anyone to know.

She was pretty.
Or to me, she was prettier than any girl who ever showed interest in me before. 
And I?
I was afraid.

I was afraid that the boyfriends before me were better and bigger and more sizable in a sexual way.
I was afraid that no matter how I tried, I would never be able to be cool enough. I had no idea how to compete with the ones before me, and although I tried, I never assumed that I would be good or at least good enough to make her happy or to want me the same as I wanted her.

This was love, I thought.
Or maybe I just wanted this to be love.
Maybe I wanted to feel something that I supposed only other people feel.
So . . . I tried
And so, I assumed people like me were either poor or destitute and no; no one like me was valuable enough to feel love or to find someone like her.

19 years-old

She and I were still together, despite the discoveries that she entertained a few sessions with an ex-boyfriend.
This is love, I thought.
And maybe love never makes sense.
Maybe love hurts.
Or maybe love sucks.

20 years-old and finally, she and I began to go in different directions.
I swore off love.
I swore off the feeling of vulnerability.
I swore of the sweet submission or the soft textures of being sweet or vulnerable. 

If that was love, then I wanted no part of it.
I wanted nothing to do with the desperation for attention or the need to feel touched and connected to someone, deeper than just the surface levels of the flesh.

I spent a summer being a womanizer.
I took whatever chance was available to me.

21 years-old.

I learned a lot about how to lose friends.
I learned how to influence people.

I learned that more is never enough because the hole in me was bottomless and so, there was no way to satisfy myself and nor was there a way to remove the feelings of being a fool.
Nothing is worse than this.
Nothing is worse than when I was called another a man’s name in the middle of a sexual episode
and then I fell for the excuses.

There was no way to remove the shame or the betrayal.
So, I began to fold inwards and implode.

24 years-old.
I met one of the great ones or perhaps I can accurately say that I met one of the greatest of all.

But I was far from great and far from willing to allow myself to reveal my truths or let myself be vulnerable and so, I was wasteful and dishonest and cruel and still; something inside of me knew that she was one of the greatest girls in this world.
Somehow, she put up with me
For a while . . .
Until she realized she deserved much better than me.

28 years-old

I had just experienced one of my greatest fantasies.
I swore that I was unstoppable.
I was impenetrable.
And sure . . .
I was alone.
I was still hurting from all my dating and my relationship mishaps.
But hey, having two young women at the same time is not a bad way to feel better. 

So . . .
I swore that I was on my way to becoming someone or something better than the predictions I was told.

See?
No one ever picked me to be the desired one.
No one ever assumed that I would be wanted or that I would be successful or happy.
No one thought this about me
Including myself.

I played the game, “Fuck Around and Find Out,” and I lost all that I had.
I had a child on the way.
I saw my womanizing ways and realized that I was going to fulfill the predictions against me. And so, I followed the lead of someone else and chose to submit and accept a trade.

I met the greatest of all times and felt everything I swore I would never feel.
But neither she nor I was brave enough to dare the odds
So, we never dared to be happy and thus; we never chose the one person who made everything right.

I got married to someone else instead
and so did she, by the way . . .

And I tried to do it right.
I did
I really did
But nothing is right when we know something is wrong.
And I knew this was wrong.
Everyone knew

I knew but at the same time, I assumed maybe this is what love is.
Maybe love is some kind of social construct.
Maybe no one really loves someone.
Maybe love is just something we say and perhaps love is nothing more than a title or a label. And we label people places and things enough so that we can claim someone or be claimed by someone else and beat the fears of being alone.

I see where I did myself wrong . . .
I see when I gave up and what giving up does to us.

I will be 54 soon.
Next month . . .
I’ve been married twice
Two kids
Two different reasons why I was alienated as a dad.
I have been hurt and beaten and the courts have had their way with me.

And then . . .
I saw something, unlike anything and anyone else.
It amazes me how connections never go away.
And I am connected.
I really am.

Nothing destroys a soul more than dishonesty and worse, nothing hurts more than being betrayed.

Will I love you more now?
In all fairness . . .
I could never unlove you or not love you at all.
Even if I tried
This would be impossible

I have made wishes with ladybugs and said prayers to the sunflowers.
I have asked the random butterfly sightings to help me.
I have hoped that all the cardinal sightings were a sign of something heavenly and yes, there are times when I look up at the moon and the stars and wonder if you are looking up too and seeing what I see.
But ah, the truth is no one sees what I see.
No one knows what I feel and no one knows what tomorrow will bring.

It took me 53 years to understand what it means to love someone and to care and to be sincere and more; it took more than dying alive and losing everything to learn what it means to live, love, laugh, and learn.

I’m waiting for the wind to pick up.
I’m waiting to hear my song come on so that when it does, I can find you . . .
and ask you for a dance.

And if not
then so be it
But at least I’ll be true to myself from now on
I might die alone
And that’s fine if that’s the way things have to be
But at least I won’t be untrue anymore
No
Never again