Opening up and letting someone in. Even saying I love you or telling them you care or that you think of them. It takes a lot of risk, it takes the power away from me. I hate that feeling. It almost feels like I am saying “Here’s my blood and heart and you can carry it or you can throw it away”. Or the world can beat on it and tear it apart. The universe can kill my hope and the faith that I put in the words “I love you, you matter and I care.”
My life has been tough by any measure. It’s been full of pain, loss and hurt. And caring, believing and offering myself up seems to be nothing but courting more of the same. It’s a dismal view. But it’s the truth. Because in my life it has been the truth. People have shelf lives and due dates, deaths and deteriorating orbits. Love is a temporary respite and something to watch bloom and die. Like a flower that comes with a season.
This is hard for me. You’d not know it from what you’ve read from me. Or seen here. But it’s easy to shave off words and give it to you piecemeal. It’s talking the talk…Walking it…That’s something else. For a man used to living alone and in his head. Life has pushed me inside. And coming out again is hard. Someone used to their own silence takes a long time to speak in any voice that can be heard.
But I am speaking. Just some days you got to listen harder than others.
It feels like there a million things I want to say, or should say or I think of saying. It just feels like lifting two tonne boulders to get them out.
It’s the song of a lonely man.
