L.O.V.E and Y.O.U

I want to write a poem about a word, maybe two,

The first word would be love and the second you.

Together they form a thought,

But separate they both complete my heart.

Love such a funny idea,

Giving trust, and laying aside fear.

Yeah it’s a word so many work up the courage to say,

Most the time it’s an imitation they give away.

Lets spell love out, L,

Stands for lasting anything else is hell,

Moving on to the endless O,

Oneness is what two should know.

Then the awkward shaped V.

It’s being vulnerable for your one to see.

At the end we have the E.

Endless is it’s only meaning.

It goes far beyond the you and me.

No force can stop it’s intervening.

You is a word I cannot spell,

I try, but I’ve lost my right too.

To put it so close to love is hell.

Because my love continuous seeks you,

But they are separate and alone.

Love waits for you to come back home.

My boss (P. 2)

Buy low; sell high- My Boss

Great advice for stocks, but now I have to take these words of wisdom and touch on what they mean to me. Make it a Karate Kid moment when the words that were obvious hid some hidden truth. My boss was a direct man but I like to think he’d be proud of the deeper wisdom I pulled from his words.

I was an investment. I broke tools and bent parts on tractors trying to do jobs for a man I viewed so highly. He saw something in me despite my knowledge being little and cost being great. He put the time in to watch his investment grow, and then he sold it to the world.

I wasn’t his only one. He knew a diverse portfolio was important. He sent us out in the world to become lawyers, accounts, consultants, and goat herders. Defending, enriching, informing, and nurturing those who come into contact with us. His greatest joy when we visited was discovering how we continued to grow. No longer needing his investing, but now investing in those around us.

I often wonder how I was fortunate enough to come to meet my boss and stay in his employment. I think back to one of the first time I was working for him. He had left to go do something, and I had quickly finished what work I had. I stood a moment in the large three bay garage waiting for him when I saw leaves blow in. Noticing quite a few leaves had already made it in I grabbed a broom and began sweeping. He returned shortly. I looked up from sweeping. To see him smiling at me.

That’s showing initiative.

I didn’t even know what it meant at the time. Now I know it meant everything.

I Disappeared

For all those, as few as you are, that enjoyed or at the very least read my first posts, Thank you.

I stopped writing. Never told you all the reasons why I started. I shared some about someone I loved very much who had passed. It was my dog. Maybe some scoff or think I’m stupid, but he was always there for me. I wasn’t popular and I lacked confidence. I was never invited to parties, and in a crowd I felt alone. Puppy never let me feel alone.

I thought I had years left with him. He was 13, I should have known it was unlikely. His health declined fast. Way too fast. I spent lunches away from work holding him. Hoping he’d make a recovery. In the end, I had to put my best friend down. My felt like it physically ripped in two. Feeling has always been hard for me, but that was enough sorrow for a lifetime.

My dog was my protector. He couldn’t have actually saved me from anything, but if he was sitting with me no one could come near. There was never any doubt that he loved anyone more than me. How could you ever be so lucky to have someone love you that much. 2018 was rough because of that and so much more. So much loss, but I could have taken all the other stuff if I didn’t lose him.

It’s been over a year now. There’s still a hole. I miss you Pup Pup.

This is Breaking Down

I want to write something to change my own life. Nothing I’ve written has been for anyone else. I want praise. I want meaning. I want someone to notice me. I want some one to say I’ve been there. To say they understand what it’s like to be like me. Its all about I, My, Mine, and Me. I’m a selfish asshole who wants people to care, but doesn’t have time to care about anyone else. I want to say here, “I wasn’t always this person”, but that is a lie. Was I ever nice for anyone but me? Was God ever real or just a vise? Did I care only when it mattered to me? Convenience. A show. A fake. Me.

I’m a pretender. A type of person I shit on without realizing that person is me. I can blame life, people, circumstance, or fate; but in the end I’m to blame. I don’t finish anything, I just exist. I hate existing. Life isn’t suppose to be hard. It’s not suppose to be complicated. Everyone else does it, but I fuck it up. My whole life I’ve been waiting for something big, but never doing anything big. I’ve lost touch with so many people, and I only see how it effects me. Because I’m a selfish piece of shit.

Megan, the first girl I obsessed over. Is it where I fucked up? Obsession not confidence? A shy introvert who thinks having morals actually matters. A fucking loser who couldn’t talk to girls. I fucking hate that guy. I hate him, but now I’m this man. Fucking broken. A wreck. Not some wreck you can’t turn away from, but one that has been there so long you don’t even notice it anymore. Just junk on the side of the road.

What do I need? Maybe a new question.

For all who read this. Never become me.

The Wait

Read.

Seen.

Opened.

They are all a partial answer, but the reply is the full truth. Whether that someone is going to respond to keep the conversation going or find out more about you is what you await. What do we fear in this truth? A brief response, or worse no response. What do we hope for? Questions that show interest in us or just jovial conversation. The fear or hope decides whether it was worth the wait.

Read.

Seen.

Opened.

Forget them all. Read a book. See a movie. Open yourself up. Don’t let the wait control you. You can control your wait. That is the truth.

Obsessive

Obsession; An idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person’s mind.

I don’t think it’s any secret that we all want to be loved, but I think the truth is that we want to choose the people who love us. The curious cycle of it all, is that the people we want to love us don’t always, and we ,as people, don’t love the ones who desire our love in the same way. I can think of many people I’ve let down chasing after a hopeless love. The tears and bitterness I caused them, that I was so often aware of. Some people love hard and desire to show that love constantly. Admiration gives the feelings flight, but in time, admiration is replaced by annoyance, and the feeling that gave you wings takes them away. In that moment, one never feels more alone and hopeless.

Gray Wrecked Plane Photography

I can remember the first time I was obsessive over someone. I was young and my friend would have rather played with my brother than me. The truth of the matter is that the three of us could have played and nothing would have changed, but it wasn’t good enough for me. I needed the validation that having a friend gave, and to see him choose to play with my brother made me angry and hurt. Since then I’ve never dealt with people well. I get close to someone fast, and the more I seek that closeness the more they pull away. The lie of my life is that it is spent alone. The truth is I’m surrounded by people that care, just not the ones I chose.

Free stock photo of people, friends, men, sitting

Is that fair to the ones who fought to stay in my life? I know the answer. Maybe in the end I reap what I sow. We don’t choose the ones who love us, and in the end that’s the hardest truth to face.

Silhouette Photo of Man Leaning on Heart Leaf Shape Tree during Dawn

Underwater

Lately, I’d describe my life as underwater. At most times I feel like everything is heavy, but there’s moments when I can breathe and see the light. Where joy isn’t sought, but found, and the loneliness is quenched. Then I sink or should I say think, either is accurate. My thoughts are heavy, they have been since I was young, and they slowly drag me deeper. At times, I can bear the weight and tread the water. Ignore the depths below. That was until I lost him.

Einstein. He wasn’t someone, he was the one who brightened up the worst days. A life line to hold myself above the water. It has been seven months, and I still can’t breathe and the weights are unbearable. Time is filled by space. Space that perpetuates upon itself stretching out into infinity that I can’t find a way or a reason to fill, yet I know if he were here it would be filled.

So what is this page you have stumbled upon. Ramblings? Musings? Bitching? Maybe a bit of everything.

Thanks for joining me. Stay if you need; leave if it’s all the same.

Love doesn’t suck; the loss of it does. – Me

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