I was just thinking…thinking about stuff. Life. Okay fine, I was thinking about love. I was thinking about love and all its phases. The adventure of it and how it gets completely derailed by misunderstandings and insecurities. The hurt and pain from past relationships are the devil’s work, meddling with something so sacred only God could have laid his finger on it. I couldn’t help but think about the relationships I’ve been in throughout the years. The significant ones that altered my existence in some way, shape, or form. These men were special. A few stick out as such, having scarred me so deeply that I would never be the same again, forever being beautifully disfigured. The ones that hurt me the most are the ones I loved the deepest, or at least that’s how I remember it. Then there were those who didn’t shake my world enough. They didn’t hold the mirror up the way I liked. I didn’t feel extraordinary with them. It just didn’t feel right. Nothing was wrong with those guys, it was more so that we were two pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. Or better yet, we were like that movie you watch and within minutes, you’re fighting off the sleep. There were no fireworks, no passion. No nitty-gritty, feisty energy that kept me coming back for more even after the bad fights and nasty spats. It was smooth sailing and somewhat easy. Yeah, that’s never worked for me. Something about my life screams drama. But the kind of drama that dares and is worthwhile, the kind that I’ve been apologizing for to the men who couldn’t handle all the excitement. Do you even know what the definition of drama is? Drama (according to Google) is “an exciting, emotional, or unexpected series of events or set of circumstances”. As far as I’m concerned, that is also what we call…..life. I don’t know when, how, or why the word “drama” got such a bad rep. But I will gladly claim it if no one else wants to. Having drama in my life means that I am alive…living, kicking, screaming, feeling, giving, receiving, hurting, loving…it means I’m making mistakes, and learning from them as I go along. What’s the harm in that? Why is it that people run when they realize that you’re not the perfect human being they had hoped for? I don’t get that. If you want constant and never-changing, the lovely 24-hour expression of a bountiful smile, with rosy cheeks and dimples to match…then go find a cabbage patch kid and put a ring on it. That’s just not me all the time. My apologies. I can only do that for small moments throughout my day…and that’s about it. There may be a moment that calls for the stank face, like when I hear or see straight buffoonery, OR, the blank stare when I just can’t anymore. Every now and then the situation calls for a wardrobe change. Happy happy, joy joy all day, every day would mean that I am spiritually dead. It would mean that I am not an artist. It would mean that I could not live to write these words. I couldn’t capture the photography and the emotion behind it if all I ever knew was joy. My pain and heartache have all contributed to this beautiful being that God has created. So don’t give up on me when I wear my scars with honor and speak of my struggles with brutal honesty, because at the end of the day, THAT’S what love is all about. It means loving yourself enough to give someone else the opportunity to see God. It means when you feel like screaming, you do just that, because it’s the only option you think you have at that moment. And true love is when you let out that scream and the person on the receiving end still sees the God in you. And that person finds the God within himself and gives you the choice that you couldn’t find when you needed it. That’s love. It’s providing relief and direction when the road gets dark. Love is the understanding, the patience, the light, the passion, the fire that keeps the candle burning.
romaincrisis
snowghoul
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pixelskylines
