It is a crazy world and we are all a little crazy. The older I become, the more obvious the insanity becomes. I remember calm and organized days in which I carefully mapped out the day’s activities with precise calculation. Those days lay buried beneath a two feet stack of philosophical theories ranging from Kant to Zizek. To the right of that stack lays a pile of newspapers with random marks highlighting certain passages, longing to cling to some type of memory. Teetering dangerously close to the edge of the room-sized desk, a stack of Jane Austen novels appear, just begging to share its own philosophical perspective. And peering from beneath Jane Austen, a tattered corner of Homer’s mystifying account of wars and heroes whose bones have long since turned to dust. Perched atop the growing stacks of knowledge is the Tibetan Book of the Dead, reminding me that although death is inevitable, absolute oblivion is impossible. And there above the chaos hangs a photo of my beloved.
The more cluttered my mind becomes, the more I drift from the shore that keeps me safe. Photos surround me; photos of children whose childhoods remain permanently etched into the canvas of time. Televised accounts of the simplest things knock me from my perch of avoidance. I stay immersed in work so that my mind seldom has time to remember a time when there were moments for stolen kisses or much needed hugs. Just when I think I have completely forgotten what a kiss feels like, I will catch a glimpse of two lovers in a movie. I cry. I cry because I remember being kissed just because someone loved me. I cry because I know I will never be kissed again.
My days of organized plans are long gone. My life has become a series of chaotic moments drowned in the ugly reality of survival. I am tired. I fight the moments in which I want to surrender. I know that surrendering is not an option. I trudge forward because I made a promise. I miss moments with embraces in the moonlight; I miss shared kisses and hugs; I miss the feeling of knowing someone loves me simply because I am me; I miss returning to a house where so much laughter filled it that it became a home; I miss feeling safe; I miss feeling as though I matter; but most of all, I miss you.
Through it all, I put my smile on each morning to appease everyone. I know that each person I meet has his or her own heartache with which to contend. They certainly do not need to see mine.
I am beyond tired-I am exhausted and during those rare moments when I entertain how wonderful it would be to see you right now, I drift and wonder if my punishment will ever permit me to go home. It is a crazy world and we are all a little crazy and the longer I have to stay, the more I want to leave…the more I want you to hold me once again and whisper that you love me too.
©2013 Relinda R.