Since I was very young…
I’ve felt the most important gift you can give someone was your love. As I’ve matured and have become victim to rejection and defeat part of that notion became much more abstract to me. Was love a gift you could give someone? Does just saying you love someone the same as knowing you love someone? How do you know? This was something that confused me and and tormented me, even to the point of paranoia that I was taking people and relationships for granted (I suppose I still am to an extent) but I think it comes down to acceptance. If you just accept you love someone you don’t have an excuse to hate them. In the pain and bitterness of my rejection my mind reasoned that since I could not love someone with all my heart, I could at least hate them with it instead. My emotions were so strong that I simply could not be satisfied with doing nothing - I had to transfer those emotions negatively toward the person who did not accept my love.
You must accept that you love someone, better yet, you must accept that you just love. Then you can hate, or feel angry, but let it subside and know that you only feel this way because you care so much. All sadness and hatred stems from love. When we are deprived love we lash out or submit to failure and depression. That is why love is the greatest gift you can give someone and why you must always keep it their on reserve for someone because you never know when they may need it some day. They may not need your love now, but they will certainly never require you wrath.
A Meditation on Love
As much as I seem like a misanthropic loner on here at times — I’m actually a very loving person. WHAT!? YOU DON”T BELIEVE ME!?!?!? …I kid.
So when it comes to love I have to admit I’m quite old-fashioned - yet a history of rejection and bittersweet relationships has also left me somewhat jaded towards the idea of being in a relationship with someone. That’s not to say I don’t want one, of course I do, but I’m a bit more hesitant of chasing after a woman these days. Love is a lot of work. I’m perfectly content with just going with the flow and seeing what falls into my lap (innuendo much?) for the moment.
The way I think of love is like this: Love is a loyalty. In it you give up a part of your own freedom to accommodate the needs and feelings of someone else. And that goes both ways. It’s very much a contract of trust, and that is likely why we have institutions such as marriage, and relationship status’ on facebook.
I’m very much conflicted you see, because I’d love to have someone to trust and to be loyal too, but at the same time I also value my own independence and lack of responsibility or commitment that comes with it. Finding someone who energizes you and makes you want to be responsible and caring is a very great gift indeed.
A Meditation on Death (and my Dog I guess
I’m following some post-chart for the month of February so if my posts this month seem oddly pointed or specific that is why. Also if I suddenly stop posting it’s because I was lazy and decided not to do it.
Anyways I’m talking about death. Which is a really morbid subject to start out with - but February is an appropriately morbid month because the Earth is at the height of death and depressingness. I guess my earliest experience with death I can remember is the death of our family dog. We had had him for a long time before I was born so he was already quite old. That being said he lived up until I made it into the 4th or 5th grade.
Strangely enough I knew he was being put down yet wasn’t so concerned about it. I had other pets die before and wasn’t bothered too much by the it because these pets only lasted less than a year anyways and were either fish or lizards.
So one morning as I left for school with my father he says to me somewhat hurriedly as we’re going out the door “You wanna say goodbye to Toby?” Which I thought was odd because I was only going to school, I had no idea that TODAY was the day they were putting him down. So somewhat confused I say “…uh…no? Uhm, bye?” And then we leave.
When I got home I didn’t even notice Toby was gone until my Mom came to me before dinner and told me that we actually had put him down that afternoon. I guess they finally noticed I didn’t seem to be all that effected by Toby’s absence. I was surprised and my mom was ready to console me but I didn’t feel the need to cry that moment or go ballistic at my parents for not letting me give a proper goodbye to a dog that was more or less a childhood friend to me.
It wasn’t until a couple days later that it finally hit me. He wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t the same. All the stuff of my childhood I remembered doing with him, none of that would happen ever again, because he was gone. Then I became angry. Then I became sad. I remember specifically it was the middle of the night lying in bed when I began thinking about this and I just started crying. I know I sound like a dweeb, but you must realize not even a person in my family has died before this and I used to watch Old Yeller religiously on VHS.
That being said, after all these events, I realized just how much I took Toby for granted. He was old and didn’t play much anymore anyways, but just the idea really struck a chord with me. The surprise and suddenness of it illuminated this fact that even the little constants of our lives that we may not notice, yet make us feel secure, because they’ve always been there and are apart of us can disappear before we even realize. With the death of that dog, came the death of my childhood and soon enough I started worrying about girls (even more than I did in Elementary school) and anxiously awaiting facial hair growth (I still am a little actually).
So how do I cope with death? From that experience I think I can say that feeling obligated to mourn the passing of a loved one right away isn’t necessary — it isn’t even natural. It needs time to sink in first - and then you will know to mourn. Moving on can be hard (especially if you’ve lost an actual loved one and not just a dog), but eventually you just do. You just live.
So that’s my rather elongated experience. I feel kind of cruddy because I’ve never even lost a relative that’s been very close to me and here I am writing about some dog. But my grandparents are getting much older and I wonder how I will deal with their deaths over time. Maybe I’ll have a different answer then.
An Open Letter to the WORLD
Sweet earth we live on. You are humble and kind but you are quite ambivalent and cruel as well. You’re full of emotion and of knowledge and your use of it is sometimes for better and others for worse.
Your children need you, but you’re tired and weary. They are confused and they know not what they do nor who to be at all times. If I could impart my years of wisdom and experience whilst travailing through the public school system I would. I would lend my spirit to anyone who was tormented for being different or for those searching for an identity. I would give them my fury and my strength so that they may conquer the pettiness and intolerance. Yes World, some of your sons and daughters are stubborn and remain belligerent - yet there is hope. For every confused child there are at least countless others being born who undoubtedly grow up and become otherwise reasonable and understanding human beings. You never promised we’d be perfect but for that I don’t begrudge you. It is a double-edged sword bestowing us with both massive diversity and also debilitating cruelty and baseness.
So World you are not so different in your vast seas and dark forests. You have knocked your wee chicks from the nest and as much as it may pain you to see us struggle to sustain ourselves in our high perches and complexity, you remain impartial and give and take from us in the wisdom only you understand. The wisdom of chaos. That is why we cling to our order, and the sanity we have established, it is all that we know.
But each day another person cracks because they can’t take sanity. Each day another person discovers a little something more of what they’re made of. And each day a new person will embrace the chaos you have inscribed deep within them. At the end of each and every day a person dances to a song only they can hear while bystanders watch indignant and afraid. We are afraid, World. We are frightened children clinging to each other and we do not know how to go on but we are doing what we can. And that’s good enough
Sincerely your friend,
S.S.
P.S.
May the lost become found, as may the world turn ‘round.
Latest Poetry
For now I will post links to my poems here. Enjoy!
Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil.
I must be insane
I do not believe the dog is man’s best-friend. It must be fire. I’ve always been so infatuated with it - I feel connected and intrigued with it. I fear it, and I adore it. I love it, and yet it is intangible - untouchable. It is a love-affair that means one of us living and the other dying. Competing for life, for energy. An equilibrium exists in control. To tame the flame means caution and distance. Yet that is not love. Love is meant to go up in smoke, love means to devour.
…Wouldn’t it be great if you could breath fire?
Without A Presance
Just a ghost
weaving between your lives
just a specter
phasing in and out of
the image
of sparse times.
I cannot say I will
be here tomorrow
I cannot say I was
there to see you grow
I can say that I love you
and the softness of your glow
Faint and faraway
flickering
memories
seething in a darkness
I have forged from hate.
I cannot say I’ve been
the best there is around
I cannot say I will be
any better than I’m now
I will say that I try though;
sometimes I come around.
Born in a dimension
different from your own
born in a world
full of ghosts
alone.
I died a million times
and each time coming back
rising from the ashes
with sunshine in a sack.
And you will one day ask:
why did you ever leave me?
I was never truly brave
never truly breathing
I was just afraid
afraid of our feelings.
So I shall wander on
tired and concealing
So I can belong
as a ghost
with no meaning.
In Your Sands
I’ve stood
for a long time
on the shores of your beach
wondering
what if…
What if I
had decided to swim
in your undulating
waves.
What if I drowned in them
or was eaten alive
in them?
What if I had
said yes
and let your beach swallow me
wholly and gladly?
what if…
I had not been shown
the enticing face
of desire
and had bled my heart
into yours
into a plash
that congealed on your
sandy
bottle broken
beach…
And what if I had
accepted that— sure
it’s not the prettiest
or the purest
or most innocent
of beaches
around
-but -
you were mine.
If not
just for that moment.
What if I had waddled over your shore
cut my feet on your glass
sang to you
stupid love songs
in humanities dumb absence?
Would it have been different then?
Would I have been happy then…?
It seems easy
to lose yourself
wander drawn
by treasures
that were never there
that turn out bare
is it so simple for us
to lead ourselves to alien coasts
and force ourselves to drink
from its phantom springs?
How I yearn for your shore
to wade in your surf-
how ecstasy washes over
the brain.
I want back on,
but I’m afraid.
Afraid you’ll spit me out,
because you’ve changed.
Broken bottles
glitter like diamonds
dead things
appear writhing
decomposing
in sentient ravels.
Seaweeds flow like ribbons
mixed in your sand-duned hair.
All beauty
is opened up to me
as the once ugly
now breathe carnal passion
into some sort of attraction.
What if
you forgive me?
Anesthetic
Magnificent hues of trembling pain
seem as rainbows trickling down
to seep into my brain, to cry my name
yes to endure the tortures
and rigors of life’s seething labors
do leave me salivating with mirth
and freedom’s joys!
I would take anything
be it beatific rejuvenation
or loathsome decay
I wish only
to feel
again.
And what do I have to show for myself?
Half-hearted love, measured joy,
and salty bedrock dried of tears.
I have only this indifference, this numbed pain.
The flame has fled with the whisper of your breath.
And only I am left…
with the echo
of your “no”.
