Ball of energy

 A reflective blog for you on the pains of love.  I wrote this a while ago, and it's been silent as a ghost in my Word folder, waiting patiently for its turn to be shown.  At the end is a poem I wrote a little more recently as well.  Something about tonight just seems right to finally post it though as I've read a number of touching and darker things today:

     There is a ball of energy of a nameless color and light that hides in the dark- and not just “the” dark, but your own darkness.  This ball will explode within us all at one point in time- forcing us to drip in cold sweat- facing the ugly side of ourselves and the mistakes we’ve made.  Facing the truth of how bad we all are at living life and understanding and treating a relationship like it really should be treated.  It is important to acknowledge that we all start out as nothing- as naive as a rock is to humanity, and then a gradual incline in intelligence grants us the most confusing process of learning for ourselves (or at least those beings closest to us).  

      We must choose a person to use as a learning tool- we start with a guinea pig to try out love on.  Too bad this guinea pig will be the one with which the chemicals in your body will react to the strongest- and every new experience that comes with the beauty of love will be the freshest and seem the most genuine with them because it is the first time.  Too bad we will all mess this up because we are human and to learn we must first make mistakes.  So we blame these failures on your own guinea pig- or the relationship you’ve built around them- because of course, what’s the point in hating yourself more than others if being with yourself in life is the only certain thing.  You may not break up with yourself, unless you use death itself.

      So, we turn to these fresh loves: the ones we tested out our first pet names on, the ones we explored in the darkest rooms with the most intimacy, the ones we laughed and cried the hardest with, the ones of which at each new stage of love, we dismissed all the preceding ones (because, we thought it was love before, but now..), the ones which we experience a oneness with; something we had not experienced since the mother’s womb, the ones which their emotions and feelings were of mutual significance to figure out and settle.  Those ones.  Those are the ones we yell at, criticize, live with too early, question too much, distrust, lie to, discourage, cheat on, and hate. 

     The one person that you will have the most romantic significance with, looking back is the one we screw up the worst with.  So we “move on”- a phrase that should be removed from the dictionary due to its deceitful hopefulness.  Then we feel a dissonance, a disconnect, a hurt so bad it transforms to all aspects a human being can experience: pure pain.  We attempt to recreate this same magic with others and we fail and we feel split in two because the real, true one is out there rebounding off of you onto other people whom are way better in your own eyes than they ever were to your one.  You become paranoid, disillusioned, disheartened, self-conscious, cynical, and depressed.  In other words, you “move on.”  And then what?

 Cross

The night was wrought with dirty tears

The swelling notion that our worlds would end

So we beat angrily against each others chests

Fists bleeding with uncertain blame

Time looping our words that we risked shouting

An active attempt to store your mistakes into my memory

And just as strongly trying to capture the sight of your eyes

As we let our bitter concerns drown the real point

Until there was no environment anymore

I could not sense the chill air stroking my neck

I could only feel my uncensored words spilling out

Like too small a bowl for a voracious appetite

My desperation to condemn his lack of sincerity

His joke of a contribution, of empathy, and of love

But I laughed just as loud as his accusations

That made me out to be the witch that I am

But I confess it’s true; my existence screamed naive

While he was capital letter competent

But that night, I drove us inadvertently into a hell ditch

I was intent on proving myself worth something

My admission of failure did not crack so easily

The fork in our path still causes deep seated agony

And I only wish I tried harder to remember your face

As it was painted with love and vulnerability

Instead the sight I relive is your eyes filled with hurt and hatred

Cheers,

Joolia