The Soul of my Heart and Body

My heart flies, but my body stays here.
My feet, firmly planted beneath me, reach deep down into the Earth, intertwining and interweaving, grabbing hold of the vibrancy that lives in the soil, and with it, I grow.
And as the sun comes up, I stretch my arms tall and wide, above the tops of the greenery to meet it. Its rays paint me golden, while I gratefully accept all my sun offers me. Drinking its light to protect myself from the dark.
When it rains, I am unworthy. The heavens open up, and liquid perfection drains from them. I soak up each drop with meaningful resolution and harness the power of this gentle, yet forceful element.

With these connections, I grow. I grow strong and tall. I grow fast and I grow peacefully. I am grounded. And still, as my heart flies, my body remains rooted to this Earth.

Blessed the gracefulness of a nighthawk, and the delicacy of a butterfly, my heart flies.
Into and out of danger it floats.
Barely escaping the grasp of hasty thieves, hoping to capture it, and frame its beauty.
It floats over streams and valleys, meadows, lakes, and mountains.
Through rain, sleet, hail, snow.
Through fire.
My rebellious heart battles this fire, knowing that victory may not result, willing to accept the burn of yet another battle scar.
The battle wages on war, and the flames get impatient. They are ready to devour my poor little heart.
Backed into a corner, I only have one thing to offer this monster. Love.

Love of self. Love of life. Love of love.

My heart emerges victorious because love is what its filled with. Love is what it carries so serenely through the landscapes and atmospheres of this world.
Love is what navigates it through the nights when its far from home, and the air grows cold. Love is what fuels it, to fly.

And fly.
And fly.

My heart flies.
but my body, remains rooted, to this Earth.

You Made Me

She was just a child, innocent and pure.
The elegance of her rhetoric and forward thinking had you under their spell, and you believed she was so far ahead of her time.
She perched, ladylike and effervescent, on your pedestal, proud was she to be the apple of your eye, at least until the next piece of ripe fruit made your mouth water.
Creative and inventive, she was impressed by your actions.
But alas, these things never last, and as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
Now she trusts no one. Selfish and impulsive, she puts her feelings first. If theirs get hurt in the process, they probably deserved.
She has no regrets, and she has no issue with their addiction to the poison. That’s a personal problem.
Her ideas are no longer innocent. Her motives no longer pure. Cruel intentions shaded by insincere smiles. She lives for the moment.
But don’t you dare judge her. You made her this way.

Then he came along and stole the stars just to make her eyes light up at night.
Like a whirlwind, he took her and spun her in circles, leaving a dizzy feeling that made her knees buckle when he smiled.
Carelessly, she threw away all the walls she had built up to protect herself, how else would she let him in?
And let him in she did. Foolishly believing that he’d let her in as well. That her walls wouldn’t be the only ones to shatter, sacrificing themselves for happiness.
And he fed into it, giving just enough to keep her coming back, never too much as to upset the balance of things.
A treacherous and slippery slope this thing called life becomes when we lose our senses. Dangerous and unchartered, the land of emotions is a vicious forest we fight not to get lost in.
He was the one that got away. The one that, for all intents and purposes, could have made her weak.
But he was too far gone, just out of her reach, and steadily moving further and further away.
Chasing him was out of the question, so she made the first adult decision of her life…she let him go.
But it wasn’t that simple.
For, he left a void, a space that needed to be filled. A lie that needed to be told.
So she became the pretty, poisonous flower that’s attracts most passersby, warning them to stay away. But do they listen?
Logically, they choose to fall, they choose to take another hit. And she obliges.
With no remorse, she feeds their habits.
But you, don’t judge her.
For you made her this way.

As in uffish thought I stood...

I thought it'd never be the same, once I had gone against the grain and played by my own rules.
Who's to say I hadn't invested my feelings into it equally?
I just knew when to take my light back, I knew I had to shine on my own once again.
It didn't make any sense to lose our heads when we had already put our hearts on the line.
Your's shot out the starting gate like a winning steed, mine a little slow at first, but soon in stride with yours.
This was the time when we had it all, and forever seemed to be found in each other's eyes.
In your arms were my inhibitions, and in my hand was your compassion.
What a delightful way to be.
Oh how I dreamt that we would be that way forever.
My dreams were haunted with images of you and I at our best, glowing from the inside out because we knew we had each other.
But times change.
And as swiftly as Spring had swept us up and carried us off into the green pastures to awe in its beauties, and Summer had whisked us away in a frenzy of heat, romance and unpredictability,
Fall came, with its crusting leaves and whipping winds to snatch the green from our pastures, and replace it with a dull brown.
Leaving us to attempt to regrow our seeds that normally thrived on sunshine.
Then the snow came.
Neither of us was prepared for such a season.
We grew colder with the thick of winter, and created a distance inhabited by frozen dreams, forgotten even after they thawed.
Nowadays we don't even know each other.
Sometimes I wonder...
what if we had never ventured?

Chocolate

Listening to this song reminds me of you. Putting on this shirt reminds me of you. Watching that video, reading that story, seeing those hats remind me of you. Eating this candy reminds me of you. You with your boyish smile that melts my heart and tells me you can do no wrong. You take this assumption of mine and run with it. While I’m admiring your ebony skin, you’re stand-offish attitude reels me in, and before I know it, I lose my motive. You said you’re too smooth to get lost in my eyes, but I never believed you. The fact of the matter is I’m as capable of rendering you powerless as you are me, so we struggle. We struggle and we fight because neither of us is selfless enough to give in to the other. Neither of us is strong enough to let the other take lead. I must admit, I’d let you take lead, if I thought you knew where to lead us. And the saga continues.

Then, every so often I lose interest, or am unable to give in where you want me to, and I tell myself I’m through. I’m through, and so are you for thinking I would ever go that far. That, however, only lasts a little while. Long enough for me to remember how adorable you are when you let me win. How much of me is lost when I see you. How much of me is taken when you walk away. Then I realize that I could never let you go, never lose this mountain of ambiguity that I am steadily climbing, positive that on the other side is peace, harmony, and chocolate. Endless chocolate. My addictive habits leak over into my sensibility, and before I know it, my face, my hands, my heart, are covered in chocolate. I need my daily dosage to stay sane. Delicious and sweet, the only time I ever regret our encounters is when my stomach is aching after an overdose.

If only I knew why you were so willing to share with me that which makes me fly, only to snatch it away when the delight of satisfaction is painted on my face. Then I feel used, abused, and ill at ease. I turn, with my tail between my legs and run back to my senses. They cradle me, and give me faith. I begin to believe that I am stronger than my addiction, and I want control again. I think I have it. I am content with the ball in my court. Then you saunter up to the hoop, begging me to play a game with you. One-on-one. How can I deny such a challenge? How can I turn my back on that sweet, innocent, delectable chocolate?

Sacrifices

Sacrifices are things we make even when we don't want to.  We make these sacrifices so that the people we care for know that we would go to great lengths to prove our devotion.  We may sacrifice our happiness, time, money, or even dreams.  The idea of willingly sacrificing is an amazing gesture for both parties.  Once you sacrifice for someone, the sacrifice you made becomes miniscule in comparison to the strengthened bond of the relationship.  In this light, sacrifice is good.  It allows one to show how deeply committed they are to a friend, family member, or love interest.  Sacrifice, under the proper guidance, is beautiful.

The beauty in sacrifice also lies in the reassurance that the person you sacrifice for will sacrifice for you.  Not that sacrifices should be made with this in mind, but to begin a relationship with someone in which the two of you are willing to sacrifice for each other is the epitome of good company.  If, however, you realize that the person is not willing to sacrifice in the manner that you did, or in any manner at all, pain is nearby.  Pain because its not easy to be out on a limb for someone, risking everything, and they refuse even to help you.  Pain because you feel alone and unworthy of the kindness and good treatment you bestowed upon said person.  Pain because you have sacrificed, and even in the light of disappointment, will sacrifice again, for that person's happiness; but who will sacrifice for yours?

I personally don't sacrifice much.  There are a chosen few people on the planet who I would truly sacrifice for.  Once I develop an attachment, whether it be romantic or platonic, to any person, I am willing to sacrifice for them because I enjoy their company.  For these chosen few, I would go to the ends of the Earth and back.  But would they do that for me?  My first encounter with this happened to me in elementary school when my brother's friends would tease me.  They would ridicule me and annoy me relentlessly when my brother wasn't around.  When I told him of this treatment, he plainly told me that he wouldn't give up his friends just because they made me mad.  My problem was in the fact that their willingness to disrespect me was a blatant display of their disrespect for him, and although I didn't want him to lose his friends, I had lost countless friends behind the same rules.  Needless to say I was hurt, but I learned quickly that just because you are willing to sacrifice for someone, doesn't guarantee reciprocity.

I was altogether shocked, however, to find myself in the same trap recently.  My prior exposure to such treatment allowed me to rationalize the situation, but the pain was the same.  I tend to find myself in this situation a lot.  For some reason I do the most for those who do the least for me.  This road is not one of flowers, daisies and sunshine.  But rather of false hopes, numerous disappointments and the strengthening of my resiliency.  Herein lies the problem.  Solutions anyone?   

Switch

Have you ever thought you liked somebody...until you met their best friend?

The story of my life.  For some reason I can never find the patience to wait for a better opportunity to present itself, I just accept the first offer.  A good business person would say to NEVER accept the first offer.  It's a sign of weakness and desperation. Now wait, I'm not desperate, I'd just rather have it all.  Have it all meaning I'd rather have the first offer, and also the second one too, when I'm ready.  But enough about me...

So, the obvious dilemma in the above situation is what to do.  Do you settle for the one you're with just to avoid drama and complication? Or do you go get what you want? Settling presents a few problems.  One, you're unhappy, like a child who sits outside the candy store with their face pressed to the glass.  Secondly, the person may really like you, whereas you're just being nice to save their feelings.  Thirdly, and most importantly, while your settling for second best, your opportunity for what you want can very well just pass you by.  I say this from experience because as was mentioned before...this is the story of my life.

Lets say that your a fighter, and settling for less than you're goal isn't an option for you.  Then of course you create a plan of action, and implement said plan.  Issues arise however, if the friend is loyal and whatnot, they might like you, but not be willing to act on it behind the guise of friendship.  This is bittersweet because although you love the fact that the person is loyal, you don't want to be on the wrong side of it.  Clearly, this situation can become sticky... 

Freshman Year

The most amazing, difficult, painful, joyous, chaotic, undefined and unrealistic journey there is. I found myself in places I would never have thought possible (double meaning). Where is that scared, shy at times, and sensitive adolescent that first set foot in the AUC in August? Honestly, I have no idea. I lost track of her so long ago, there's no point in wondering her whereabouts now. But she had to be ousted. I had to lose her hand to grasp my own future. I had to find the person I wanted to be, and introduce to the person I thought I'd never be. Combined with the woman my mother would be proud of, I created an individual. An individual who thinks less of consequences and revels more in the moment. An individual who's feelings are no longer on her sleeve. That was such a dangerous place for them to be. They were so easily affected by common elements that they had begun to lose their fervor. But alas, I rescued them and now the reside in the safety of their lair.

Freshman. Freshwoman is more like it. I coined this term when the feminism of the pearly gates infiltrated my judgment and I began to feel disrespected when people called me a man. Not too shabby huh? Well, behind this label I was able to charm more than a few and humor most. Now, however, I don't know what it means. Does it mean I'm fresh? Well in the urban vernacular sense of the word, I had always been fresh. Does it mean that I am rebelling against the institutions that place masculine labels and such in place in society to secretly keep control over all women? Ha. Thats a bit too excessive, even for a causeless revolutionary such as myself. Maybe its just my inner desire to always be set apart from the rest. My yearning to be considered unique. But a desire to be considered unique is disgraceful to those who truly are unique, whether others consider them as such or not. I am not altogether sure why I created this label, but I do know that it worked for the time being.

Now, as I matriculate beyond first-year status, credits, mistakes, and drama, I admire the journey I took to become who I am now. Not a shadow of regret lives in my heart. It was all worth it. Every smile, every giggle, every date, every denial, every tear, every double-booking, every time. Friends I made and lost before I knew why. Foes who became closer to me than the fake friends I had known. Friendship under the guise of physical attraction, and physical attraction that should've remained friendship. It was all worth it. I have hundreds of stories to tell, although I most likely never will. Some will be shared, and other will be taken to the grave as they say. But it was fun. All of it.