Tu Amo

I didn't recognize the words when they came out of my mouth; full of quiet anger, such ire. "I don't try to dissect every fucking thing that's important to you." I'd sworn. I hadn't noticed until after, and I felt that it was too much; but it was real, and I couldn't take it back. We sat in silence, and I knew she must be upset with me. I didn't know what to say. I wouldn't go back on my need. I loved her, which was evident; she was my dearest friend, but I needed her to do this for me. Not because she understood why, but because I asked. Because I said it was important. I had my reasons, but they were mine to know and mine to understand; I just needed her to understand that going meant something to me.
"I'll go," she whispered. It had seemed like an eternity in silence, before she broke it with those two words. "What?" I said, inciting her to repeat herself. "I'll go." I knew she wasn't happy, but I felt pleasure wash over me. Not because I'd gotten my way, but because I knew she really must care.
I make all of these petty sacrifices; because to me, that is love. Love is learning to speak another language; the personal language of an individual. And sometimes you won't be able to comprehend, you won't know the right words; but you try your best to fill in the gaps. And I think that's the most important part of loving anyone: parents, friends, lovers, siblings, pets. It's the little ways you try to connect, to communicate, even when you can't understand.

(P.S. Thank you)

Gripping Tightly to the Memory of Hope

Sometimes I lose my mind. My mind fills with emptiness, and suddenly the thought of being alone for even a second seems unbearable. As if the darkness would take me, if I were to be left in it by myself.
I have felt this way for a week or so; and yet I've found myself on the other side, once again. And I wish I could remember this, hold on to this memory; so when the darkness comes for me, I could remember. I wish could remember that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and that there is always hope; that there is a god in each of us, in the love and the beauty that is.
I don't want to lose it ever again: the beauty. I don't want to have it taken from me again, where I cannot see the goodness in living. I want to remember the joy of giving, and to never fear that the love of friends will run out; and I look to the heavens and beg whatever deity may exist, Please, let me remember this. Let me always know love. And more importantly, let me recognize it when it has been there all the while.

A friend walks into the forest to collect water from the river. And as I wait from outside it's borders, I hear a roar echo through the trees. Suddenly I am afraid, and I find myself ready to burn the entire forest down; just to find them, just to make sure that they are okay.

Maybe Someday We'll Figure All This Out

I spent the weekend in Rockford. It was nice. I felt like it was another weekend of planning the future, securing living arrangements and planning part-time jobs.
We got to spend time training more for the 5k, coming up in one month; this time with Sarah as our cheerleader and trainer.
We also got to see Alex Powell, and he was as sweet as ever. I love that little kid with all of my heart. I can only imagine how his aunt feels. Jordan is so great with him, especially for a 23-year-old. I love seeing her take care of him. Such a great aunt.

I wish my instincts weren't still fueled by such testosterone. I find that in my urge to protect those I love from danger, I find myself drawn to violence; that I would retaliate, an eye for an eye. This is not my heart, this is not who I wish to be. It makes me no better than those I would wish to counter-act. You cannot solve violence with violence. You cannot end war with more war. I know this. I believe this. I feel it deep down. I believe that only love will ever be an answer, and if I believe that firmly enough... then I must live it, as well, no matter what. Yet I still hope I'm never tested on my convictions.

I feel happy with where my life is at; amongst the static of unimportance, the white noise of everything small that society has pushed upon me. But I take comfort, both in my self-assurance and confidence in who I am... in the in the love that is inescapable.
Kissing Anna was not important because of Anna, as sweet as she may be. It was important because it reminded me of myself, of the beauty and passion that lurks down inside of me; and how well I can, most certainly, execute it.
I'm a good man, a compassionate and deeply caring man; and I am an artist. I believe these things, not in spite of my flaws - but because of them."
I am moving ahead with Bicycle Built for Two Productions, with Jordan as my partner; and I have never felt more passionate about any project. Usually I put all of my heart into people, but this... this is my way of putting heart into myself. To seek my own loves, desires, wants... and fulfill them.

Fog on the Mirrors

I stand in my tub, underneath a leaky showerhead. The water comes slanted, awkward; but I don't mind, as long as it's hot. I need the heat, the sensation, the feeling. I need it to be there, to wash over me, to run over my shoulder and down my back. It does, and I am thankful.
As the steam rises up from the tub floor, from my body, I find it difficult to breath; it's choking me. I can't inhale, and my lungs feel labored. The humidity is strangling me - or is it the world? Is it this shower, or is the the conditions that await me behind that vinyl curtain? Anxiety disorders, sleep deprivation, expectations, and never enough time to fit life into living.
I sit beneath the spray, and I close my eyes. The water pounds against the back of my head, where my skull meets spine, and I feel peace. I imagine myself a fetus, enclosed in the womb of my mother - warm, cradled, and so unsure of what I will become. I wonder if it even matters: being something, proving your capability. I'd rather just love and be loved, to fall in love with the void of everything we're not. That's where the charm is, anyhow; in the little ways we fall short, in how we trip and stumble - wobbling like babies, unsure of how to manage their tiny legs. People laugh, we laugh, it's beautiful. I want to be beatiful. Not something meaningful. I just want to be beautiful, in everything that I'm not.

I got my new Nikon D90 the other day, and it's working fantastically. I've had a lot of fun taking pictures, and playing with the video functions.
I'm hoping that it will soon start to pay for itself, with business prospects that have begun to roll in. I have my first client, today. We're taking headshots for her work in theater.