I remember one day you said you can’t talk to me because you love me. That those you love, those closest to you, are the ones you stray away from talking to because you fear the thought of weakness or pity associated with your name. It’s kind of the same dilemma with me. I choose to blog because writing to you is the same as if I were talking to you, only letting you in, and as I said before, I don’t want you in my head. I meant that.
It’s only fair.
We both know I talk more than you and when you do talk our conversations are repetitive and small. For example, "how are you?" "how was your day?"; more along that line, never in depth about the past. When I begin to vent you listen and I regret it because after my heart’s been poured out, you’ve learned so much that I hold within me and I, well, I yearn to hear you vent to me. You said to wait, let it just "happen" and I’ve waited since the day you told me to but I fail to understand what I’m waiting for because all we do is communicate through misunderstandings.
I’m not making this all about you its not. I just don’t know what more to say because I don’t want to say too much.
Guess I’ll talk about life.
It’s seems so hard to talk about that because you know so much already. When I blog to my readers they have no idea what I’ve been through, seen, heard, felt because I never say too much. It’s as if they are reading parts of me, taking in what’s given and yet I never give too much because that’ll only make them you.
Blogging has become my bestfriend. My real one calls me “different” and leaves because nothings the same and I can’t blame him but blogging is different. It’s the kind you talk to about anything and they don’t respond. I speak to it, giving it all that I have to give and when I’m done, I feel selfless but realize soon after I need more and before selfish; making me a selfless selfish human being. Being selfless is being selfish. We all want to give but yet we still need. Never balancing our wants nor needs, just demanding what makes us feel better.
I’ve been trying to prepare myself for what’s upcoming but I don’t know if I’m ready. I guess I’ve gotten so accustomed to being lazy that work seems like a ship load of duties I can’t accomplish. If you took a look at me right now, I’m a wreck. My hair a mess, body unclothed, and soul craving for attention from you but resisting the urge to text you, knowing you have one life to live, I another.
When I said to you I’m jealous of your life, I am. I find it nice to have a family such as yours; although I am already apart of that family, it’s just so different from the outside. You love your brother to pieces and when you get an opportunity to be with him, your soul lights up like a candle and I love it. Its just hard to explain, the feeling I feel but its worth explaining some other time.
Now I wait and hope that I can go a day without feeling as if I want to drag you out of your life and plop you into mine where you belong because you make my days better, my soul brighter, my heart beat faster and even when there’s no physical interaction, I can still feel you touching me and that makes me feel as selfless as an angel but when I realize your not there, my selfishness takes command and I pray time falls in my hand so that I can fast forward to the future moments of us, alone, loving for eternity.
I love you.