I have a baby bearded dragon. His name is Eddie. Eddie is about as big as your middle finger and as fragile as the same. But, holy Hannah this little dude has so much personality. I’ve come to love this tiny guy, this sweet gentle friend of mine. And so have many other who have felt his little grasp. But, not everyone. Some people don’t feel it, don’t get it. That’s okay. The world is seen through different eyes, different minds, different hearts. That’s good. As far as Eddie goes, the views are very different. Dad looks at Eddie through stubborn eyes, not even opening his mind to the possibility you could find love in a rodent so small and wild. Eric finds Eddie repulsing, says he’s a spider, a creepy crawly he would never touch. Once again, these are not accusations I’m holding against these dear people in my life. In fact, I find it kind of funny to see the different thought processes about this little lizard. But, this isn’t about Eddie. Not this. This brain rant is about J. This is about the little bit of his soul I’ve discovered through Eddie and how it now has hit me. Let me tell ya. This boy is gentle with me, and oh so gentle with Eddie too. And after some time spent together I’ve come to the realization. He loves Eddie, maybe even as much as I do. Genuinely, he’s fallen in love with Eddie. That is something so pure and genuine, I can’t even express the gentleness of that thought. He feels for a little creature, a little life. Not every person does. Not every guy does. Not everyone can open their minds to the possibility of finding love for a creature so small, so seemingly irrelevant. But, he can. I see little bits of his heart through moments spent with him and time passing and this is one of them. Just one of the crumbs and yet I will savor that crumb in my mouth even if it’s a small crumb. I love the taste, I love it more than any taste my tongue has ever rested upon. I cannot let go of that taste, and I don’t know if I ever will. And I will lap up every single tiny crumb he drops for me, piece by piece until I have the whole cookie. I want every little bit. I find savory sweetness in every little crumb. Crumb by crumb, bit by bit. I’m patient, I can wait. Especially when it comes to a cookie this good.
“Golly” he says, our noses pressed together. I feel his presence with every nerve in my body. I feel his light shining in me, it’s something so bright. And he says “golly”. Ya think he likes me? Like actually likes me? Is he really not scared off by my frightening mind or the way I lose control when I’m dancing all crazy like? Is he not switched off by the chaos at my home, the way my sisters run crazy and my dog sprints around the couches? Maybe I’m worth it? Do ya think? He said “golly” like he would take me far away from here, somewhere warm and cozy where we could touch lips forever. He said “golly” like I was the sun and only I could light this cold dark world. He said “golly” as if my heart latched onto his with a fishing pole and was reeling in fast. He pulled away and sang “golly” like I was the only other person on earth and time was non existent. I think, I think maybe he really does feel, feel something deep for me. Feel my deep love for him. The connection, golly, that connection. Remember puzzle pieces? Remember the boy who didn’t fit in my puzzle? Holy Hannah this boy is a perfect fit. He’s the puzzle piece that was missing and lost for so long. And I didn’t even know. A puzzle piece not found cuz not expected, and not near. My puzzle is flowers reaching up from vines, expecting a blue flower, but his piece is red. I was looking under the table for blue petals. But, on an odd day, deep in the basement I found a puzzle piece with red petals. Sure enough, a perfect fit. The connection man. He’s a magnet I’m pulled in without a choice. Can’t stop. To pull back is so much tension, so much pull. Let your self zap in. Our arms around each other like we’re holding on for dear life. There’s no room for breathing, our air is combined. We are one, we combine. We pull together we make things right. And he looks up and says “golly” with hearts in his eyes. I knew he was a twin, but I didn’t know he was mine. But, In that moment I saw myself through my identical heart eyes. “Golly.”
Death is too much
The concept is too harsh for my optimistic mind
I live in the gray, the different shades encompass me and keep me safe
If something goes wrong I will tweak it just right to make it work
I’m a fixer
I need to fix everyone’s hardships, it is in my blood
And if I fail I will find another way
I will fix it
I will make it all alright
The grays will come to life and mix together til it fits just right
But when it comes to death and life
He is black and she is white
They block out the grays
There are no if’s or but’s
Black and white gives no room to fight
No room to swim no room to try
No room to fix when it’s black and white
No room to fix is a place I don’t know
Somewhere unfamiliar that I don’t want to go
It hurts me and haunts me and pulls me to my knees
Laughing in my face and reminding me
That I am just a puppet in the game played by Him
And when my strings are cut the light won’t just dim
But darkness will fold through a blanket of black
And there’s no going forward and no going back
And what is a worse thought to me than my own strings sliced
Is the strings of my loved ones so tender and nice
And if their time is done and their puppet falls limb
I’ll scramble them up foolishly hearing someone laughing so grim
Because there is not one single thing you can do to reverse
That dark raven black that leaves souls in a hearse
To the baby bird that I gave my time and my care
To look at your lifeless body I cannot bare
And my gecko named Leo with his sunken eyes
Mine fell the same and couldn’t be dried
And if I saw my baby, my sweet cloie k
Hanging so lifeless on that hellish day
My heart and my brain would be more fucked up than now
But she was still breathing just sleeping they vowed
So I choose to be blind and let my brain shove it all down
It’s easier that way
If I can’t live in my gray
My mind can’t comprehend
The black’s quiet friend
Don’t let it near me please don’t let it touch
It’s too much to bear, death is too much.
What drives a person to be who they are?
What brings the girl behind me to tears from laughing so hard at a joke that I find plain and not humorous at all? What builds personality? Is it something built in the chemicals in our heads? Does it come from the genes given down from our parents, or the habits we’ve latched onto by always being around them? What about the way my heart aches when others are sad? Is this some spiritual quality of my soul that I was borne with? And what about the boy who disowns everyone and claims he’s a follower of Satan? Why does he want to do that? Is that his personality? Is that coming from something he wants others to see in him or something that is driving him to it from inside? Or is it literally this intrinsic prize that settles his heart to feel so satisfied with the person he is, the way I personally feel when my room is filled with plants and flowers? But, why is that? What makes us so different and why? Is it a choice? Isn’t there always a choice? I may never know.
There is a meadow. Green and soft. And the world surrounding you is light and warm from the sun. With a warm breeze hugging you like a blanket. Where you can dance and sing and laugh and sleep and talk for hours maybe even eternity with the one you love. If. If they love you. Not too far to the right past the meadow, the ground gets rocky. The long beads of grass become scarce. And about ten more steps forward there is a cliff. Spiraling into something you cannot see, you cannot know unless you were to jump. This cliff edge. This is where I live. Some days I’m near the meadow my feet sore from the rocky grounds. And I stare into the meadow longing to live and exist in it. Some days. Very rare I am in. And I am happy and I am loved and I smell the sweet air and we laugh and gaze into eyes that reciprocate the same tender love. Rare. Most days I just sit at the cliff edge. Wondering what is out there. If I jumped! What if I jumped! I could be adventurous and independent and jump! And see if it lead to trees of green and warm air! But, what if it lead to a winter cold. With icicles forming on my nose. I would shiver and freeze and long for the cliff edge where I was only chilly. See some days I want to jump, but some days I just walk. One step at a time. Closer to that edge. And I walk slowly and he doesn’t turn an eye, but when I am close so close looking over the edge watching my tears fall into the abyss that is when he reaches out. And pulls me back in. And sweet talks me back to the edge of the meadow. Saying stay here with me, it’s calm and mellow. And I drink up those words til my eyes gloss over in sparkles. And he looks back at me through rocks and charcoal. So I’ll stay here. On this cliff. Crying most days but staying so stiff. Because no matter how I wonder, no matter how close I wander, when I almost fall his heart grows fonder. So I’ll sleep on the rocks and patiently wait for those days,
He takes me into the meadow and we live in the suns rays.
It smells so good when it has just rained
Could that sweet smell clear my brain?
2 am and I’m just sitting here
Wondering why I feel no fear
Alone and late and dark out side
But spooks not once has left my side
But the black cat can’t save me from creeps in the night
Superstition would claim she would cause such a bite
But I don’t feel fear I only feel numb
Just picking away at the nail on my thumb
And if someone crept up and swept me away
I think I’d just accept for I feel nothing today
Nothing when he touched me nothing when he lies
Nothing pouring from his heart and I saw nothing in his eyes
And that must have been the poison that now has turned me numb
Like he put it inside me the same way he made me cum
Cuz he’s always honest but I’ve seen one lie
When he says he loves me it crawls out so dry
20 minutes now sitting here feeling myself fray
And he never even checked if I got home okay
But he did check how my waist felt when I had first arrived
Not the circles round my eyes how I’m so sleep deprived
He tried to sink into me and I backed away
He thought it was caused by the phobia in my brain
But this time it was deeper something below
I can’t give that part of me if I don’t truly know
That his fingertips are pulled like a magnet to my heart
That he thinks I’m the world and he wants every part
But instead of longing eyes I get shoulder shrugs
Like it doesn’t matter one bit if he gets handshakes or hugs
So I drive myself home feeling empty and dry
Cuz I’m hurting so bad and I can’t even cry
Cuz this time it’s deeper than sorrow and pain
It’s nothing it’s numbness I wash away with the rain
Like I’m watching myself in third person falling apart
Yet I can’t reach out and hang onto my heart
Cuz tomorrow if he calls I’ll come like a dog
And lie in his arms and breathe in the fog
Some ask how God could possibly be everywhere at once. How could God be with me and be with someone 100 miles away from me? I am starting to understand as I lay curled up on this couch soaking in a puddle of sun. I feel the real warmth of the sun as it touches my skin and ceases my shivering. How amazed I am thinking how something so far away can be warming me as I speak. Something that isn’t just for me, but for everyone, is specifically blessing me. But, I’m not the only one because my sweet cat is just at the top of the stairs in his own sun puddle. Different puddle, but the same sun. And, the same time. And my mind is so exited thinking how someone else in a far-off city is sitting in their own puddle of sun feeling the warmth and comfort that I feel from that same sun. God’s love is just the same. God’s love is for everyone. It is always shining through windows and reaching into dark corners bringing light. It can reach out to all at the same time, always. We can see these puddles of warmth, love, and comfort. It is our choice whether or not to go soak in them.
He made me soup.
And as a side came the realization of how well he treated me.
I wasn’t feeling well and he made me soup.
But, don’t forget how he rubbed my aching back as I felt the warm soup slide down my scratching throat into my stomach warming my whole heart. But, the soup warmed my stomach and the way he kissed my forehead oh so gently, as if I would crumble up into pieces if his lips pressed too hard, that is what warmed my heart. And, maybe I did crumble that easy, but he didn’t know that. Because, he gave me his jacket and walked me to my car. He asked if I had gotten everything and my lie was a soft, “yes”. Because, how could I tell him he had my heart? It was something I had to leave, there’s no choice in taking it back. But, oh how I crumbled. Looking me in the eye he told me to text when I got home safely. “Oh how lovely” I thought. But, I cried the whole way home. Because I crumbled when his lips touched my forehead and and I didn’t know I would. And I didn’t know he would keep my heart in exchange for his jacket that smelled just like him. And I didn’t know these things oh but what I did know is the way it hurts when he doesn’t want the heart anymore, he wants his jacket back. He doesn’t want you to smell him anymore, but thats not the way it works when you miss someone because you could be walking down the street when you smell him and it takes you back to everything. The way you cried the whole way home when you realized you were in love. The way he walked you to your car, the way he made you feel like a ray of sunshine, and how
he made me soup.
maybe that decision wasn’t right,
Took myself to lunch today. Just the way I like it. Actually, I’m sitting here at the table waiting for my food right now. I put my phone away so I could just enjoy my mind and the things around me. I’m surrounded by gossiping people. Literally each table I tune in to consists of one person telling a loud story with a snarky voice and flailing arms, with the others at the table either trying their hardest to look like they’re listening when I know their minds are wandering the way mine does, or listening to the story with a wide mouth and a common “noooo, really?” My favorite snippet I heard was “Yes, he said that. And in MY Sunday school class!” Utah. That’s all I have to say. But, somehow I love it. I find it so funny the typical Utah people. Just, Utah. But, as I was sitting and soaking in my own thoughts it occurred to me that I talk to myself more than any one else. And I love to. I am my absolute favorite person to talk to. I ask myself what I think about things, I pride myself on my deep thoughts, and I laugh with myself because our humor is identical. You see, just the same way I could see that the lady next to me didn’t care one bit what her dear friend was rambling about, I can tell when someone is just being polite to me. I can tell in an instant someone doesn’t find interest in what I’m saying and that’s why I don’t share things or express things to people. But, I still have that itch to express my wonders and thoughts, so I get it out through and to myself. And that’s independence I suppose.