Love, Fear, Courage and Hugs

I feel light. A measured discipline exhilaration. It’s like I’ve been on a ship for 3 years and I just saw land indicators and I’m trying not to freak out.

It’s Sunday night. I just finished watching Pig in the theater — AMC at the District. The movie moved me and that was exactly why I picked it. I read about it, Nicolas Cage back on the big screen and he wanted to do something more subdued, more pure acting and theatrics. It was a spectacular display of mastered theatrics. The story was singular and I didn’t fall asleep. He succeeded in retaining my interest for the next second without really selling me a story line to root for.

He moved me because it was simply a story of pain. Prolonged pain. Absence. And of course reintroduction to familiarity now strange. In a sense, it reminded me of the last three years.

My mom has been more of a class mate than a mother. We catch up and talk as two people taking notes, exchanging notes on life and just trying to pass this season’s class. Weirdly sometimes I have the hint that she needs but don’t know it; sometimes she is just burdened over me. She knows she can’t help me or reach me where I am but she just sits with me in the darkness. But she doesn’t know it’s dark where I am, or she knows but she is acute aware that she cannot tell me because the darkness must not be a conscious revelation. So she comes, visits, and sees me as I am and mostly reminds me to comb my hair. She doesn’t freak out and I like that.

Then my dad, he is a friend. A guy friend. That kind that tries to fix because he can’t help being a guy. He doesn’t like listening still. Sometimes he will but you know he is itching to get back to giving me advice because he has been there. But not been there like a father; it’s more like I am friends with a guy one year older than me but I have gone on to college in a different country and he is in polytechnic. The problems are the same but from different cultures, and very nuanced. He doesn’t like preach his solutions but I can just tell he listens just enough to find similarities with issues he has faced locally so he can share how he solved it. But that is it, he just shared how he solved it, in hopes that I would try it. He gets really frustrated when I don’t try but he doesn’t become dad. Not anymore, he just wants the best like my friend Max in Houston used to. And I like that. The conversations are not long. It’s funny when I talk to him for over an hour, he jokes and says — ”I know we have talked two weeks worth. Will I hear from you next week?” Hehe… It’s so cute. He misses me once we get off. I miss him too but it’s been so dark, I couldn’t think about him much.

Today, this weekend really. I met up with this lady. She is entirely a meeting kind of attraction. I won’t give away her ID. Come back in a year. But seriously, what is cool is that I feel something. Like it’s been a minute since I liked a girl beyond her body. No, I don’t mean it like that. I have friends yes, female friends. And there are females that are in my life that I find attractive. And there are females that I am deeply connected to their spirit and personality but also attracted physically. She isn’t any of that. She is attractive but I am not physically mad for her. Because I am emotionally connected to something in her that makes her body feel sacred. It’s that feeling I like to have. I haven’t felt it in a while. It’s so dumb though because I keep wanting to do what I have been doing the past three years which is get myself physically excited and try to make moves too soon so I can be rejected. It dawned on me that part of the darkness has been because I am afraid of this feeling, the risk it brings of hurt. Of rejection, of abandonment. I’d rather make physical moves on women in the past fully expecting them to run away or if they stay, I enjoy the physical connection but then feel disappointed because I was addicted to rejection. It made me feel alive. It made me relive the hurt from the past. That feeling when you want to feel hurt again because being hurt feels more alive that the deadness and zombility that you have living in your body. I get that rush with rejection like when a zombie sights human blood in a living body. So without thought, I choreograph everything needed to get rejected. It felt good. Yup, I was sick. I am sick. I rejoice because now I see it.

They say grieving is good but i don’t know if that is what I have been doing. I don’t even know what I lost. Why I do know is that me, sitting in this car, feeling light. I like this feeling and I have missed it. Could it be that I am feeling light because I lost weight?

Hahahaha!

Hohohoho!

I digress.

Also, I have a confession to make. Fine wine is not a myth, neither is tart love fermented in pain.

When God makes beautiful things, He does it in His time. Our bodies, a mere clay in His hands at His service.

— Solomon, Ecclesiastes 3:11

I’ve read these many times but I have a née question for you. Take your time to process the mundane truth in it.

It start like this … there is a time for everything:

So why do I resist hate when it’s time to hate ?

The potter knows what time it is. Dolapo, let Him work.

I’m an aspiring story teller that is learning to let stories tell their own morals. You’ll find me where Faith-Tech-Art meet.