Society

Breathe. Relax your mind. 

But it’s the moment about an hour and a half before hand. When I'm lying in his arms, my body rife with panic, and terror, coming in the form of heavy tears and an aching breath. Somehow, you know what to do to settle my soul.

Laying on an old flowered couch, covered in a drop clothe, plaster and saw dust, you cradle my head, hold my temple. Relax your mind. Relax your mind. I could hear your breathing deep. It reminded me of something from a movie. Your breathing. The soft tone of your voice. I wasn't better. Not one hundred percent, but the slow, even rise and fall of your chest against me made it feel.

I think my need to stick this through, is as much to help you as it is me.

(The movie I'm referencing is Hit and Run, the intro scene to the couple)

Pecho Lobo

Pecho Lobo

Sword

I'm never sure if I want to write this much more. It puts a strain on me when people ask so many questions. It puts a strain on myself. It was supposed to be a way for me to open up. Be more open, but I suddenly don't want to.

Fear. Fear. Fear. It is a monster, haunting my trail, hunting me into exhaust. Some days I'm a great hero. Van Helsing or St George. Other days I'm a mouse, toyed with by the great monsterous cat, with its cat claws and teeth, that never fails to slice through my flesh, finding its weak points. 

Today isn't one of my good days. I'm exhausted, so that's exacerbating things. And he's slipping. 

I snatch the blame up so easy, but its both of us. We're doing it to ourselves. Hope is the great fighter, hope is my shield and my sword, my armor, my page, my horse. But its up to me to get myself to stand against the fear. To use the hope. Sometimes though, I let hope trip me up. My armor clanging heavy on my bones, my sword dull, my shield broken in the grass. Hope doesn't work then.

Hope works in the short moments, when I'm curled on your lap, and you brush the tears from my cheeks after I tell you that you give me butterflies. It works when you put your hand on my heart. Hope works when you remind me its these moments I need to use, to polish my sword, to fix my shield and to lighten the weight of my armor. 

I want to show you this. Soon. This week maybe. I'm feeling very fragile right now. Sleep should help.

What do you want?

The Secret To It All

The secret to it all is taking the good and important from the conversation.

I won't negate on my promises I made to you last night. I will be there, no matter what, in what context you need. Because you need support, I think, strength. And I want to be the one to give it, even at a distance, when I can't. 

You brought up the secret again, and I understand your getting closer to telling me. I didn't push you and you quelled the fears that I was again. 

And I understand suddenly, very suddenly, why you don't understand the feelings for me. You said you've been looking for someone like me since N. But you haven't gotten the time to yourself, the space to be single and understand what you, alone, want. I remember you saying once your afraid to love again. In the same way your afraid to hurt anyone, you yourself wish not to be hurt in the same way. Give unto others what you wish upon yourself. Your afraid then, to make the step towards love, because your afraid to hurt like that again. I understand now. Tentative.

But my conversation gave me a better understanding into how you want to face the world, what you want to do and how you want to approach the life your facing, even in a relationship. Your urge to travel, to improve yourself, you want to build something, a house I think, of your own two hands in the woods. You want to settle down into a more quiet life. Not as much partying. Not as much wildness. Inner peace.

I want to sit in a wave of the natural world, mixed with rain and sunlight, fresh air and the distant sound of birds.

I feel it too, in me. I want to lead a different life.

What you're anxious to do, and won't do is give big promises. I can understand why. It runs in the same vain of not wanting to hurt me. So you won't give big promises because you don't know, you don't want to get my hopes up. So I ask little promises. I'll take those and you've said a thousand times, and in a way, it is a big promise, that you will always be in my life. Its the one big promise you can give me. So in return, I give my big promise, because I know its important, because I know you need someone who will not fail you and the promise in, that I will always be there for you. 

I worry of course about my own strength, my flaws. I know I can be stubborn about this. Most women would have turned at the thought of pushing through all these things. I worry sometimes that my stubbornness is born from fear, and it is in a way. Fear of loneliness, but I feel it. At the end of all this that it will be worth it. 

In the same way you need to finish this your way. You need to be able to do it your way. 

I of course will have my moments of weakness, but this journey I'm on, gives me a better understanding of how you work, how forward your looking. The direction, the workings of your insides. 

I regret nothing in my decision, save the purchase of that ticket. 

You regret your softness to her. 

I had my weak moment yesterday. It couldn't be helped. I am so excited to see you, when I do, and happy for the fragment I'm given, that it overwhelms me and I wonder still why I can't always bask in it. It brings me down and I have to fight to remind myself of the big picture. Take what I am given and treasure it. Because everything from you is that, the ups and the downs, my wonderfully sweet friend, my greatest friend with your shining heart, who wears his woes so closely.

In so many ways, I hate the perceptions in life, of the smoothness of relationships, the definition, because its built a road in my mind that I'm to take. What if  its not to be that road, world? What if the road I take is different, none so smooth, with sharp stones and twists that bring me through cold and warm lights. What if the road I am on is ceaseless? Because I will always be moving and changing, my course as fluid as water. Yet steady. I will not break my promises.

And this piece is not to indicate a change in hope, for I am not with out candle light in the dark. Hope flourishes still, in its quiet corner. It must only be patient. The sun will come and in time hope can turn into something more. Until then, I will hold hope in the dark, whisper songs and quell its worries. 

My greatest, most wonderful friend.

Always, Menace 

I Am Sorry To Say I'm Really Excited

My sweet friend. You are wonderful.

I was sad. Of course that we were postponed. I miss you, I miss you a lot. I have to keep it together, of course.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll see you. Tomorrow I'll have answers because I do have a few questions.

Tomorrow.

I'm excited to see you. I miss you. My sweet wonderful friend.

Sweet and Warm.

My little heart beats with a few more gems in its chest than last week. The snip-it i wrote a few days ago, I passed along to Him. He said it was sweet and I could help but cry as he read it. I could feel him looking at a little piece of my soul.

I'd call my feeling drunk, but its too deep. I've plunged deep into the beautiful coral ocean, watching in glee as the fish pass me by as I ride on the back of a turtle.

I've gotten a sudden rush of tired since writing this, but I can't seem to shake my good mood! Five days of keeping me busy until Friday comes.

Things are changing. For the good, for my good. I can't forget that there is a third person in this and I feel bad. I do in my heart, because I was on the other side of this. But that's life. I'm not in this to sit back and run from something that feels right in me.

It starts on a Saturday. I made it to his house, roasting from the up hill walk in sunny rain, music-less with a full backpack of treats. I've been eating chocolate and biscuits from his place the last two weekends and it makes me guilty that I take it. So I brought a bar of half eaten chocolate (because I'm weak and like sweet things), art from the week and a the little note. We share a cuppa, with the treat and he says he likes my drawings, that I'm getting better, especially with my dragon, but as always, he likes my people best.

We go through his computer and I show him some pictures he's not seen off my camera. Then he decides he's hungry, and we split with he getting the big portion and me the little one, because I wasn't so hungry. Poutin again, with peppers, mushrooms, bacon, sausage and fries. It was magnificent and I promised him that I would make my best chicken noodle soup next time.

To go with out meal, we watched Gangs of New York. He loves his Scorsese films and I watching new movies (for me) with him. I think he's seen nearly everything else. Instead of going straight to his chair he sits down beside me right away and once food is done, we lay the dishes on the floor and he puts his arm around me and holds me close.

We talk about some big things. We talk about how his feeling not to sleep with her grew since the previous week. He talked about them almost having a fight. How he asked her if they should call it quiets, and hoped she would say yes. Almost again. He laid out the chance of what would happen when they did break up. That it would be before she was gone. And she's leaving, and he doesn't want to go. He's gotten an interview for a job.

He'd be good at it. Taking care of kids.

We talked about it all, and he played with the little gold ring on my finger. There were lots of laughs, and tickles and hugs. And cuddles. You love cuddles, I can see it in your eyes and feel it in the way you hold me close. The way you look at me when, just for a second your at peace. I know the feather of thought is not far from tickling you and I take full advantage of the warmth and worry free look.  You tell me I'm the girl you've been looking for years. You tell me I'm beautiful, and ask why I would like an old man like you.

Because I do. Because you're not old. Your a man, in the truest way I see, both physically and mentally.You're you! Your truth honesty and humbleness breathe joy, pride and a comfort I've never known with anyone. You're handsome. When I see you, it lights a fire in my belly, that never really goes out.  And I don't mind your odd behavior its the thing I truly love. If you were an ice cream flavour, you would be my favourite one...Believe me when I say, its not about your scars, its all about your heart.

I did have to go home eventually. You promise me to text and see me the next day. Sweet words were said and lots of sorrys passed between the two of us. One day. One day.

I didn't leave feeling bad. I left with a little more hope than usual. I read once, somewhere that you should hope, but not expect. It is expectations that make us feel bad, and yet a can't help that faint hopes grow brighter. I'll take it. My heart has been weary to long to not let it shine a little brighter when it can. It was slower for me, and I was fighting it too. Your an amazing person. I see how it is now, how I was and the connections I was not seeing because I was not paying attention.

But I remember, I'm coming back. the day I met you, the night after we first met, I decided I was coming back. I was to happy and something fit here. It was you. It was you of course.

I slept with a warm blanket and a smile at the corner of my mouth.


Sunday started with the bowling alley.

It was DS's birthday and we all went bowling. I was in a good mode from the day before. The conversation, the play and the good. We're good. We go easy on the eyes, on holding each other's gaze in fleeting, unnoticed moments. A pint together, something we now share in moderation and I quell my fears. They're few and I see them before the take me over as a wave. We're good and at the end of the night I'm awarded by a warm hug, deep and bearded cheek pressed against mine. I hung from the window and he said it reminded him of Romeo and Juliet. I waved to him good bye and wish I could just kiss you under the starry sky, the way you used to kiss me. The kind of kiss that would let lose a cage of butterflies.


Monday

I feel bad, a bit, for not giving you a deep and proper good-bye hug. I was in such a doped up mood and being so careful, I forgot that I have a whole week to wait. Its not so bad though. I have the hugs, the holding and it will last me. I just no to keep myself busy. Busy.

You had a cuppa tea at the hostel and after the boys were done with the Henry, we played football for an hour before you grabbed a snack and headed out. It was such a good day. It was such a good weekend.

Yet even when I am atop a hillside, writing, or trying to create a work art, you won't be far from my mind.

My greatest friend.