Saturday, January 14, 2017

being the rule feels like


Your bait remains untouched and I may never even be brave enough to walk onto that field.

I feel a tumbling rush of blood to my head when our gazes meet. Everything is blooming when I live in the smile in your eyes like flowers in that park we first try to fly.

But perhaps the smile is for everyone, not just me.

Our voices dance together in the stream, words flowing effortlessly, pushing back and forth. The smallest things become a trigger for a thousand lyrical images and your words flood my mind.

But maybe I am just a drop of water to you.

Your arms wrap around my shoulder, let me lean on you and create a temporary home. I want to stay there forever.

But I worry that I am simply a guest in your caress, nothing more than a visitor.

I am a wanderer who has been lost for miles. Only hope can keep me going. I remain hopeful that the path will reveal itself, that the forest will clear, and the rocks will vanish.

But I am afraid that you are in fact in the desert, and I have been following the wrong path all along.

The brave thing to do would be to tell you all of these things. 

All I can do is hoping that I no longer be the rule, but the exception.


Saturday, December 26, 2015

When you're too understanding


I'm the type of person who is constantly empathizing with people by trying to imagine how situations would look from their perspectives. I am always open to see things from another viewpoint, to the point that it becomes destructive to myself. I don't just give out second chances. I give out third, and fourth, and fifth chances. I give out chances until I have nothing else to give.

I give them out until I reach the point where giving out one more chance would be enough to destroy me from the inside.

As you can imagine, living this way leaves me vulnerable to be taken advantage of. I'm forever searching for the balance between being a doormat and just simply being a very understanding person. I put other people's feelings ahead of my own.

Someone could do something that upset me, and although I may feel hurt I am quick to brush it aside. I give them excuses before they even have to. "Maybe they have a reasonable explanation. I should be careful not to take things too personally." This way of living can blow up my face.

I am learning that it is important not to lose yourself in the process of valuing other people’s perspective. My mind need to understand that I am worthy of respect. I am worthy of attention. My time is just as valuable as anybody else's. It's nice to be understanding and merciful when people deserve it, but I need to be wary of the people who make a habit out of taking advantage of my mercy.

It hurts when you realize that the person whose feelings you have been placing above your own couldn't be bothered to think of your feelings at all. Please stop making excuses for people who do not deserve to be let off the hook so easily.

If someone is consistently ignoring you, they do not care about you even half as much as you do. You do not have to feel bad about cutting them out. Asking to be treated with respect does not make you crazy, and it is not asking too much.

Save your perspective-taking and understanding for the people in your life who have consistently proven that they respect and value you. Sometimes even these people will disappoint you without meaning to. The difference is that they do not make a habit out of doing so, and will make every effort in making it up to you when they do.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

to all of the strangers I have ever fallen with..


We have all had this moment. The moment your eyes are entirely magnetized to a complete stranger, someone you have never seen before, and most likely, someone you will probably never see again.

But that doesn’t stop your brain and heart from constructing memories and making hopes of the future. Everything about them is the romantic life you mentally Pinterested for your future while you were watching romantic comedies. This person is the real, but fictitious, mate that you have planned time and again to bring home to your family.

They are, without opening their mouth, or maybe without even making any sort of eye contact, your soul mate. The search for love has finally started in the middle of the library, walking down the street, or sitting in the airport while you’re trying not to cry because this is the fourth time your plane has been cancelled today.

All you can see is the movie you created playing out every stage of your life together. It rolls through to a perfectly indie song because your relationship is a nice mix of mainstream and hipster.

But the whole time your imagination is growing, you are desperately trying to figure out why you feel this connection. It’s the way they smile. The way they run their fingers through their hair. The way they dress. It’s everything you have ever wanted in a human being. Then you sigh with equal parts of pleasure and frustration because this isn’t logical. But then, you tell yourself that falling in love isn’t logical in the first place, while in the back of your mind you want to slap yourself across the face because this is actually crazy.

But as quickly as this beautiful person entered your life, they jump out of the subway, walk in a different direction, or leave the elevator. But, you are still thinking about them. They fill your thoughts like you have been with them everyday for years. You imagined the walks and the surprise flowers. You can nearly smell their scent on your pillows when you wake up in your empty bed. This stranger leaves a mark in your heart, and you’re never really sure if it is for better or for worse, but somehow you turn out to be thankful for the experience.

Thank you, strangers, for giving me the opportunity to fall in love in the safest way. You never truly got to break my heart. Thank you for melting the metaphorical cage around my soul, showing me that I am capable of such emotions. Thank you for giving me a glimpse at the future I deserve.

In my mind, I see the way you look at me and I know that’s the way I want my love to look at me. Thank you for giving me an idea to keep me company. Thank you for letting me see the way I want to love someone and the way I want to be loved.

Thank you for the love that I am not ready to have. Thank you for not being real so I can fall in love with my own life first. Thank you for allowing me the pleasure to create myself.

Thank you for this love to not stop with you. For letting it continue to even more strangers, and hopefully, finally the person who’s heart is half mine.

Thank you for sharing this imperfect, fleeting moment with me and filling my heart with imagined, invisible love.

Monday, August 10, 2015

you can't miss something you never had


This is an extremely difficult realization for me, and it needs to be written about. You might never, ever see these words. But the fact that I am laying down with them tonight, as I'm laying in my bed, this is what I really need to say.

I've weaved myself in and out of you, constantly fighting with myself, "he's worth it", "he'll leave you", "he could fall in love with me, I mean, really fall in love with me", and "he's just not the one." I'm exhausted with whatever this is being so one sided all of the time.

Here's the ultimate deal breaker: You have a girlfriend. It's not me. I agreed to be friends with you. This was a mistake, but I couldn't hate you even if I tried. Time has healed the pain that I felt when I walked home alone that night in June, but it doesn't do any justice. You haven't gained my trust back. But we're friends, right? I love talking with you, in person, as I'm sunken into your couch holding your mug of coffee. You're across the room on a chair and dammit you still have my hands shaking. Why? The way I feel about you is constant and it makes the peach fuzz on my back shiver in the most comfortable way.

But again, here's the catch that deters me from you.

I don't want to be your second girlfriend. You don't love me. I fill your time. I am your stoned Wednesday nights. I am the words you waste between reading novels. I am all of the time your girlfriend spends in lecture, doing work, out with her friends, a few miles away. I am the stepping stone. And I deserve better.

If I was your first girlfriend, I would make you promise to leave me before cheating on me. I would bring up tense topics like this at 3:13 am because these are the kind of things that I believe keep people together. Honesty and fear and warmth and love all tied up into the kinds of scenes you see in  A Walk to Remember and (500) Days of Summer. If I was your girlfriend, we'd be best friends. But I'm not, and we aren't.

Where we stand with each other right now, is tormenting. 

I am not cocky, vein, or anything of the sort, but I know that I could sleep with you if I wanted. But love, like real, under the covers, awakening, love, is what I deserve. (I just wish it was with you).

I'd be your girlfriend if you'd ask me to. But would you? If you're too scared to try, then maybe it just isn't meant to be. It could just be me sending horrible, horrible signals to you, and for that I am sorry. Either way, you should probably stop talking to me. You're comfortable with your girlfriend at the moment and I'm obviously not enough. If you wanted me, you could make yourself vulnerable, dump her, and ask me out. You know I'd say yes. But something is stopping you. So please don't text me anymore. I will stop sending you songs that I think you'd like. I will stop looking for us in the words you write. I will accept the fact that you're with another girl, but please help me out. Write me off, ignore me, because I'd give a lot just to hate you.

You've never been mine. I have no idea what to call you. "You can't miss something you never had"?

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

when you want to text them


Maybe you want to text them because it’s late, and you feel completely alone. You used to spend every night drifting off to sleep while you're having a phone call with them. Now you go to sleep by yourself, feeling like you’re the only person in the world who’s still awake.

Or maybe you never even had a relationship with them. Maybe they just led you on and on and on through some sick, twisted, almost-something and you let it happen, because you liked them too much to put up a fight.

Whatever the case, you want to text them in this moment. You want it so badly that it’s the only thing you can think about.

It’s not the first time this has happened and it won’t be the last. The thought always pops in your head so quickly and unexpectedly, and whether it’s a 5-minute or day-long or week-long urge, it’s painful.

But regardless of how painful that urge is, regardless of how alone you feel, regardless of the fact that you can’t stop thinking about texting them, something inside you knows you shouldn’t do it.

The relationship or the almost-relationship or the whatever-the-hell-it-was-ship has run its course. The reason you want to text them right now is probably not because you feel, deep down, that they are the one.

The reason you want to text them is something else – loneliness, lack of closure, boredom, a sense of being lost, perhaps the feeling that everyone around you is settling down and you don’t want to be the last one left.

There could be any number of reasons why you want to text them. It’s okay that you’re feeling lonely or bored, unsettled or confused, lost or isolated. You’re an adult now, you’re going to be experiencing ups and downs with these types of emotions your entire life.

But sending them a text is not going to fix that emptiness inside you tonight. It may be temporarily exciting or helpful or healing. But if you know, deep down, that they’re not the one, sending that text will always be just a bandaid.

It will be less romantic and less satisfying than you think it will be. Maybe, in the moment, you’ll feel a rush of adrenaline when you hit send. You’ll feel antsy and alert and on edge as you wait to hear back from them. And when your phone lights up, you might feel a sense of excitement or connectedness that you haven’t felt in a long while.

But it will always fade away. Often, quickly. Because they are not the one you’re meant to be with.

You might continue to have these urges to text them for a while, especially on the nights where you’re feeling lonely or vulnerable or nervous. On the nights where you can’t fall asleep because you hate your job or your city or your friends. In the moments when you hear about another engagement or wedding.

Remember that you’re not alone, that countless people have gone through the same thing you’re going through right now. And they got through it.

It’s okay to want to text them. But don’t follow through with it. It’ll just further postpone the healing time that your heart needs to go through before it’s ready to open itself back up.

Don’t text them. Because they’re just a bandaid. And what you’re looking for is so much more than that.


Wednesday, July 15, 2015

solitude

My mind is buried under the ground.
Lack of faith, breaking rules.
This is my lowest point of myself.

Not exactly.

My life is just a boring pit, and my job, and my social life. I need to step outside my comfort zone, isn't that what people are trying to do? But some people still remain the same and stick to their comfort zone. Folk, really, we need to go beyond the boundary we made.

What I want to do right now is traveling alone in some random country. Yes, ALONE. Sometimes you will discover yourself when you are alone. Some people feel sorry if they see someone hanging out alone by him/herself, or they feel insecure to go out alone to have a nice cup of coffee and quietly reading a book. In fact, trying to enjoy your own company is a one way to a real happiness.

Have you ever thought about your day in some many years from now? You will be old, all your friends slowly disappear from your life, your children can't be there with you their whole time cause they have their own life, your husband and wife passed out in a blink of your eyes. And in that point you suddenly feel alone in this world.

We were alone since the day we had little hands, little feet, little head inside our mother's womb. And we will end up alone when we die. If you can't be at peace with yourself, you will not find a happiness. Happiness comes inside you, your soul.


Sunday, May 17, 2015

when you keep yourself from the things you really want


When I think of the word “commitment,” another word comes to mind, as well. Phobia. I was about to start this essay by saying that I am afraid of commitment, but I’m not sure that covers it. I believe commitment is the thing that will set me free, yet I keep it at a distance, looking toward greener grass and other horizons while imagining my life cloaked with circumstances not my own.

The thing about commitment is that it does not come without stipulations attached. Once you commit, you are opening yourself up to the possibility of disappointment. If you want something really, really, really badly and then you don’t get it? Crushing disappointment. If you love someone so hard with everything you have and they still end up betraying your heart? Horrific disappointment. If you commit yourself to a change in lifestyle and you don’t follow through? Disappointment. Your own disappointment, but disappointment nonetheless.

Commitment does not come without its little potential consequences. It’s easier to believe that, if you never commit, you will not suffer as much. If you want something, but always keep yourself open to another thing, then the safety net is always that other thing. If you keep your foot poised just a bit outside the door ready to flee at the slightest chance of disenchantment, then you can leave without disturbing much. It’s an escape hatch—the not committing thing. It leaves you open to shrugging your shoulders and saying to yourself, “Well, I didn’t want it that bad any way.”

Committing to a project, a person, a job, a location, a pursuit, anything, means you are jumping off the cliff not knowing where you’ll land. If you never commit, you’ll always have the control. You’ll know how far you’ll let yourself go before you start to pull back, retreating to what’s familiar. Committing—purely and with enthusiasm—is terrifying. You are essentially blindly thrusting yourself toward a day to day action without knowing what will happen, what the outcome will be.

To relinquish such control is not easy and I do not relinquish most of anything without a fight.

Commitment is my Everest: that looming mountaintop I can’t quite conquer. I keep myself indecisive and fill my pauses with “I don’t know” and “maybe” and “we’ll see” like I’m stalling for more time. I’m stingy with my love and my commitments which is something I learned how to do when I was young and too sensitive to the whims of people and the world and the uncertainty of everything. I learned how to protect myself, to keep everyone and everything an arm’s length away. If the world was going to hurt me, I’d be ready. I still have that imprinted on me and I keep trying to unpeel that truth from my skin. I’m still learning how to be open to people and situations and love while still maintaining my strength. I learned how to harden against the world, but now I’m softening. Yet, I’ve never known softness and love and commitment and devotion and staying long enough to be known without also knowing pain. It seems I can always love a person or a place or a project when I’m certain I can unlove it. Until I see the escape hatch, I’m pushing, pushing, pushing away.

I sense that this resistance I feel to commitment is simply an indication of how much I need it in my life. I have to commit to commitment. (Oh dear god!) Because, even if it’s scary and even if I don’t know what the outcome will be, I have to know that it’s worth it—if only to know I can do it. Shying away from the potential of disappointment leads—quite poetically—to a very disappointing life. And, I know if I found myself at the end of my life unscathed or unbruised or unsullied from my years, I would not be proud. Had I committed myself mercilessly to the parts of my life that need devotion, I wouldn’t even care about the outcomes. I’d care about the pursuit. I’d be happy that I’d done the things, that I’d let my life beat me. It’s going to beat me any way. I don’t get out alive. Might as well go down with a fight.




Jamie Varon