love versus fear.

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
Antonyms.
The opposite of light is dark.
The opposite of happy is sad.
The opposite of up is down.
The opposite of love is hate.
Wait...
I can honestly say that I'm not sure if I've ever hated anyone until moving to this city. And there are a couple of people, I've regarded with such scorn... with such distain... I couldn't care less what becomes of them. I've resented them. I hang them on the gallows of judgement in my heart as often as their names come to mind. And I've cursed the day they came into my life.
Easy. I don't love them.
More than all of that, I'm concerned with the condition of my heart that would allow it.
I've never been that way.
However, I've never been hurt so deeply.
And so the argument goes.
The pendulum swings.
The storm rages, and I just sort wait.
I've also heard that the opposite of love is, actually fear. And perhaps, the fear gives way to hate...

There are people who will always annoy you. Would you wish them harm? Certainly not. Your personalities simply clash and it's harder to get along. But, almost always you can find something... at least one thing to tie your two broken selves together. Something to relate to.

I have seriously hated some people.

And throughout the last couple of days, someone has decided that enough is enough.
A dawn has begun to creep up through the horizon of my rather gloomy sky.

"What is it, about the ones you hate that scares you so badly?"
"What is it that you fear about them?"

It's really one of those rhetorical questions.
Just the asking is like a spotlight on a stage.
The dark night of the soul has ended... and there's that slow reveal of sunrise...
Where can you hide from that sort of revelation?

I'm afraid they'll steal what matters most to me.
I'm fearful of the effect their negativity or their reckless and careless behavior will have on me or on the ones I love.
I'm afraid of losing.
I'm fearful of being hurt... that deeply... ever... EVER again.

It's not a shaking in your boots kind of fear, but an all-encompassing terror that blocks out reason. You cut off this part of your life; of your heart... you attempt to isolate the parts that have been maimed by this person, and you salvage what you can, harden it, and the rest you begin building a coffin... a tomb where it can all die. The memories, the good, the bad, the feelings... every last attachment... in order to eradicate all of the wrong from your life.

You really do mean well.

But it all sort of festers into this bitterness and resentment, and the next thing you know, you've buried all of yourself and you're just waiting to disappear.

Love versus fear.

It's not even a real match. It's a joke really, because love will always win...

You may even vow that it won't; but sure enough on some unsuspecting day in the middle of the week, it will whisper a question when you take a moment to quiet down...

and say, "i'm with you. so, why are you afraid?"

lay me down to sleep.

half awake. half asleep.
staring at the ceiling
stucco sort of texture
geometrics
and the smudges
it's equally fascinating and disconcerting -
how many lives were lived in this space
the good, the bad, the memories created here
in this very same place that i call home
the imprints
"if the walls could talk..."
or make their own history book
and i'm really thankful they don't talk, sometimes
funny the way we hide behind walls
undress
disclose our hearts
minds
souls
facades set aside
behind closed doors
all of these thoughts were so loud
i could barely hear the hum of the ceiling fan
i couldn't get comfortable
i couldn't resolve to get out of bed
so i just let my thoughts weave their webs
of hope
of discouragement
i just stopped talking myself out of things
no need to fake it
and i missed the early days, a little
when you'd coax me to release my worries
like balloons to the sky
and i speak calm to your troubled mind
ok with being present...
happy... content to be here
because beyond a shadow of a doubt;
it's where i'm supposed to be
because sometimes i'm so very uncertain
sometimes...
before falling
sinking
down to sleep.

throwback thursday.

once upon a time, i went on a european tour with these boys... 

and was on a fun roster of artists on an indie label in the UK.

 

i found the diary i kept for the bulk of the tour. most of the girls i met on tour were a bit off-standish, to say the least... silly, really. eight legs used to decorate their shirts with electrical tape. and so, one girl in berlin gave me a heart on a piece of tape.

just reminiscing on my day off.

run.

it just creeps up on you.
ambling along
no right or wrong
it gets awfully heavy, awfully fast.
a sort of song without words
like displaced child without a name
another unrequited moment
another wild love tamed
and where did the waves go?
got the spins for the first time
how gravity pushes down so
eyes full of stars and blurred lines
and they waited in silence at the top of the stairs
too many voices
too many tongues
too many predictions
and warnings to run.
limbs stretched take the mark
wait for the sound of the gun
i'll perceive it in a whisper,
spring up from the lunge
and you'll swear with those deafened ears
"i heard no sound,
but air in waiting lungs"
and there it undulates
like the mind of a crowd
waiting to rise up
waiting to fall down
i watched them sign their name on the lines
happily paying erroneous fines
and here the fear has spelled out lies
between the truths
breaking ties
and what seemed like a sweet release;
was but a death wish
granted.
and they never felt quite so alive
viewpoint.
skewed.
slanted.
painting lines of grief upon their lover's face
and cause their weary grieving mind to
make up a kinder place
but, force yourself to lay here
be present in the wake
sink into the silence
and don't let it break
wrapped up in some eternal tale
ignoring how it seems
and against the odds
onward
singing
all will be made right
in this
in me.

mezzanine.

there's all this light coming through the cracks.
worry makes you see things differently
and it's absence makes something new of the imperfect.
but it desires me in the worst way
singing me to shipwreck
caught between scenes
waiting backstage
and it seems like an eternity
speeding up and slowing down
waiting for the line
waiting for the cue
waiting and ready...
and wondering if you're actually ready
don't overthink it.
but, one more time.
there is the right moment
and there's this terror that you just might miss it
so, in these moments, the trap door proves to be a lift...
and you're carried up higher and higher
bird's eye view.
i've forgotten it again
so focused on the cue, on the scene on that inciting moment and my performance
my perfection
and obviously lack, thereof
that i've missed the big picture
i mean, i've lost the whole plot
sometimes the playwright needs to have a word
just take you up to the mezzanine floor
and remind you of why it was written in the first place...
and you sort of settle down and come alive
noticing all this light coming through the cracks