Secrets and Lies

Damn opaqueness and politeness and mess. Damn the heart’s wanton ways. Damn bad timing and impatience. Damn all the ways we hide who we are and how feel and damn how hard it is to want something you shouldn’t want, to be so helplessly imprisoned by complication and impossibility. I wish loyalties never got crossed. I wish time weren’t so linear and I could see something heartening waiting for me in the future instead of being held captive in the static present. But mostly I wish the truth weren’t so hard to tell. Everyone fears knowing what is real because ignorance is possibility. If I don’t know how he feels he might love me. And sometimes things are best left unsaid because then there is no responsibility, no wounded feelings, no blame if you change your mind, no rejection. It’s safe and it’s suffocating. How I hate the veiled, festering feelings that will never be more than phantoms. If only we had the courage to give and receive everything hidden in our hearts. It might be shocking, devastating even, but think of all the affection wasted, all the bitterness never remedied, all the knotty, heavy secrets that lie between everyone. Lying about how much we care. Watching in silent agony as someone we want falls for a friend. Feigning forgiveness while harboring deep, poisonous anger. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a fairy godmother who could say what no one else dares to? Or a day when no one could lie? Or mind-reading capabilities?

All I Want for Christmas

Santa,

Here’s my heart’s desire: give me heart-wrenching, deep, passionate, pure love. The kind they show in movies. The kind people can’t stop singing about. The kind every teen girl dreams of and most adults dismiss. The kind that promises hard times but enough steadfastness to see it through to old age and death do you part. The kind that makes you want to cry it cuts so deep, but that makes life worth its misery and mess.
Yeah it’s a tall order, a useless prayer. I remember the boundless hope of youth, the way I thought that if I wanted something enough, believed and wished intensely enough, that of course it would somehow find a way to come true. I was special and life was full of joy and potential. I am overly romantic. But I really want magic and if I can’t ask for it at Christmas, then I don’t know when else.


Cheers,
Sarah

The F Word

I am afraid so often and I'm not sure what function it serves. Why should I let such irrational fear stop me from doing so much that could be good for me? Sometimes the fear pretends to be laziness or worry or other things. Shame and inadequacy are its bedfellows. The most sinister thing about fear is its ability not only to cripple you but to make you blame and hate yourself in the process. Deep down you know you're being lied to and taken advantage of, but there's no way to totally get rid of this feeling, one that is so primal and powerful that when you're in its grip it's difficult to imagine knowing anything else. Fear has the peculiar quality of making one forget all the times fear has been proven wrong. It's like a default mode, like gravity or inertia. Of course it has a service to provide, a reason for being, but we give it more power that we should. The worst thing fear does is not hurting us, but stopping us from reaching out to others. Some people happen to be more afraid of being by themselves than being with others, but most of us are afraid of judgment or rejection, so we don't put our feeling on the line. How many people have I loved from afar but been too afraid to tell how much I cared because I thought they'd think less of me in some way or that I'd get hurt? I need to learn how to acknowledge and accept my limitations, such as fear, so I can utilize my strengths and love the best I can.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

The smell of cold night air. An unexpected touch or acknowledgment from someone I think I might be in love with. Poetry. Discovering a new favorite song. Spiked hot drinks. Partiers yelling silly things as they stumble down the street at 1 AM. Movies that make me cry every single time. Christmas lights. Comfortable silence. Laughter and merriment and no pressure to be anything other than what I am. Fond memories. Knowing that there's more than one person in this world willing to take a hysteric phone call from me at any time, day or night. That feeling of relief after accomplishing something difficult. Late mornings in between toasty sheets. Romantic daydreams. Fresh laundry.

Even though I'm lonely tonight, even though sometimes I'm sad and I forget all that I have, I can always count my blessings. And for that I am grateful.