did you ever, like, write a letter to yourself because you didn't know how to talk to yourself, but you had to be the one to talk to yourself because you didn't want to hear what anybody had to say to yourself, because you know your wrong in more ways than just one. in other words, note to self: i'm selfish. and i just decided i am going to title this post Shell Fish. make the connection, people.
i met another writer today at work. one of the members who signed himself into rehab. and he made the most incredible statement. he said something like, addiction is the chemical of apathy. i always loved people like him, like absolutely adored them. still do. they live raw. they love raw. they're intentional in their seeking and end up white knuckled. pure in their dirtiest form. oh, the irony. so to whom it may concern, please don't judge their wars. thanks.
no men are reading this. and neither is my mom, right? i'm selfish, and i'm writing this all for me. i need liberation. know that being a blogger is humbling. and another note to self?... our lives aren't our best picture we've ever taken sitting still in pretty picture frames. we're attractive people who attract and are attracted to attractive issues. think about it, an issue wouldn't be so if it didn't attract in the first place, no? ha.. let me run on a tangent for a short split second. for some reason there is beauty in controversy. that's all. that was my second. beauty in controversy. always.
it's late, i've just earned my degree in philosophy; bare with me or stop reading. as of late, i've lost my memory. i've lost the ability to even spell my name correctly. act like you haven't, but you have before; i'm just one of the braver ones to write about it. i call it, DAD. a.k.a desperate attention disorder. more irony for us: wouldn't daddy love to know that.
it's the muscle, the pump, the veins and the cut off t-shirts. i love men with muscle, proportion, and great form when they lift. hence, muscle has become a god. let's just be honest. gold's gym, for me, would be like the equivalent of the golden calf that created so much controversy in the old testament of the bible. see, writing this all out turns me off to my life style, that's why i need to do this. i tried talking to jesus the other day like he was a passenger in my car. i shut the music off, said hello, started my apologetic, this-is-what-i'm -supposed-to-say-to-you-in-this-situation kind of sentence, but couldn't even finish it. every sentence was a cut off. i couldn't even finish them, and to not be able to do that was frustrating. i could have sworn it felt like i was birthing emotion; it's been that long since i've allowed myself a tear or two to sneak out of my eye sockets. it was painful. let me tell you, it isn't easy for me to cry. i normally refuse it and think its fake, like sad emotion is pretend and tears are theatrical props. that night it was the blood of my soul, though.
i pinpointed it. i put my finger on it. if it was a conversation, that conversation was one-sided. cutoff sentences turned into complete verbalized thoughts i did not know existed. i have faith, sure, but i'll be totally honest here: i've given up on it, one, and two... this thing called apathy. i told jesus i love my materialistic, superficial life so much that i'd rather beat the air and struggle everyday than have a relationship with him. i told him it breaks my heart, probably breaks his more, that i've changed so much in the past year, but i don't want him. then i shut up for about half a minute because i said something about a "heartbreak". (note: ever since that awful relationship, "heartbreak" to me has been dumb imagery.) i heard what i said though, and i didn't like it. a broken heart. i tore the thought apart and put it back together really fast like it was an object i wasn't allowed to touch but was curious about. our hearts are what keep us alive, and when they're broken we can barely function. boom. there is such a thing as heartbreak. i was heartbroken. no more argument, i finally agreed even though songs on the radio ruined its meaning for me. i'm still heart broken.
but i continued. and i caved. i get i'm "forgiven", christians; i don't need the speech. i didn't forgive myself though, and i'm still having trouble. i carry the guilt everywhere and the shame is heavy, more heavy than you can imagine. so heavy i avoid going home as much as possible just so i don't have to have a conversation and lectures of alternatives that would somehow improve my life. so i yelled it all at jesus. talk about a long car ride. i have such a pride issue but am nothing to be proud of. i created the mess; i take full responsibility. so i said my piece in the car at, like, midnight that night, didn't let him talk, wiped my snotty face with my stiff coat sleeve and left it all where it was.
a few days later. it's saturday night. yes, tonight. i have a great back workout. the sweat seems to be purifying enough, but i go to church afterwards. God wants me, but of course i have to swallow my pride and "surrender". draw near to him, he'll draw near to you. so give me an image of him that is satisfactory and perhaps i'll consider, christians. maybe i'll want to then. make the spiritual world sound more real than this one and maybe i'll appreciate easter sunday and everything that happened.
it happened then. out of no where i get this vision of God. because i wasn't going to him, and he couldn't come to me since he respects me and my decisions and is a gentleman, every muscle of his was contracted, veins popping, teeth gritted, like he had to hold himself back from saving me even though he wanted more than anything to do that. he is not passive or soft and feminine like we see in the pictures we hang in our homes. he is more fierce than this. and he loves me.
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