(Morning, Frazzled Followers…it’s been too long again. Rest assured I’ve been writing more than ever, just haven’t felt like posting. I’m confined to bed today, so I’m using my time to edit and publish some older stuff. This particular piece is from January when I was grappling with some aspects of my personality and how they grate against the world around me. It’s raw, and I know you guys like that, so…enjoy ❤)
Anything material in this world, I can get for myself. I don’t want titles or trinkets or trips. I don’t want social events or status updates or family get-togethers.
I want time. I want tunnel-vision conversations that don’t necessarily have a point but are fueled by feeling and strung together by a connection that can’t be defined.
I want eyes that look at me and see all my flaws inside and out and still see something unique and amazing. I want to say exactly what I feel, even if it’s ugly and give the middle finger when words fail to express the frustration I am experiencing. I want someone who knows that sharing that side of me is not an attack on them but my stupid way of sharing my heart.
I want someone who knows that I am broken and jagged and who not only accepts the pointed shards of my personality but wants to know how I got each one, someone who finds that my broken shards fit well with their own and wants to share theirs with me.
I want to make someone happy. I want to learn all about them and know their fears and dreams and how they cultivated each and every facet of who they are. I want to create a bubble of happiness and good for them that they want to climb inside when the world is bringing them down. I want to see a smile that only I can elicit on their exhausted and stressed face. I want someone who wants to evoke a smile from me and feels rewarded by its presence.
I want someone who understands that when I say “I hate you” when it’s more appropriate to say “I love you” it isn’t a declaration of dislike but a deep acknowledgement of how very much I like them and an affirmation of just how far into my being they have tread. I want them to know that they scare me by delving so deep, which I hate, but that I love it and hope, more than anything, they continue.
I want someone who views my words as a map to a deeper part of myself, and not something that has to be endured or indulged. I want someone who will listen to the things I don’t say, the things I almost never say. I want someone who knows that the spaces in me that should have been “artistic” were empty and that I only have words where others have talent.
I want someone who wants to lay beside me and enjoy my soft warmth, feel my absence when I am gone and not find the same comfort in the arms of anyone else.
I want to spend my days giving my heart to someone, I want to be a source of happiness for them and I want to be myself while doing it. I want someone who feels a need to be near me, who makes it a point to share my space and wants me in theirs. I want someone that wouldn’t willingly be out of touch with me.
Is that too much to ask of another person??? Yes. Yes, it most certainly is. Is it worth it to settle for less? No. Not even a little bit.
And I’m OK with that. Being alone is not the worst way to spend the limited time we are allotted on this rock we all inhabit. Not the worst by far.
-Slacking a whole lot less, but hating every minute of it,