During my daily tarot readings I have noticed a common theme. Release the past. Be true to yourself. I have already spoken about the former so today I decided to delve into the latter. Am I being honest with myself about what I desire from our connection? Is my patience an affectation? I am not patient. I am hungry. Am I being honest about what I want to achieve as an individual? Am I still wild or have I become accustomed to settling for approximations? Do I seek comfort over adventure? Am I a living/breathing embodiment of pure, undiluted passion? Do I still have it within me to incite and inspire? By nature I am intense and passionate and sometimes I get carried away. I like a little obsession with my love. I am flawed to the point of disfigurement. Does that scare you?
I was chatting with a friend today and she complimented my ability to accept the status quo. I have always thought of the status quo as the antithesis of life, something along the lines of limbo. I thought that to live fully meant action/reaction/continuous reinvention. At some point I became aware that I was seeking distractions in order to numb and escape myself. I realized that one can find, even within the most ordinary moments, inspiration, passion, wonder, and depth of sentiment. For the ordinary to become extraordinary we have only to be receptive and present, we have only to submerge ourselves in the experience. What if all of life could be a celebration? When I think of you I like to imagine our life as it would be in the day to day sense (this isn’t the only way I imagine us). We are already extraordinary, no alterations are enhancements needed. There is not a person in this world who does not possess the capacity to manifest miracles. In dreams the simplest touch from you awakens emotions and sensations within me that are nothing short of miraculous. How could I possibly fathom the potential of the flesh? To hold you, heart to heart, would unravel me! I want to unraveled.
I started this letter with a clear intention but as usual I ramble. I want everything with you. All of it. I want the everyday moments. I want to be pursued with a passion that borders on obsessive. I want to heal. I want to discover our mission and submerge myself in it, whole-heart. I want to laugh with you. Hold you. Fuck you. Fall apart in your arms. Soothe you. Inspire you. Kiss you with abandon. I don’t want to wait even if it is reckless. I want to take my time getting to know you. I want you all to myself. I want to surrender you along with myself. I realize that my list of “desires” is contradictory and rather vague. If I said lets live together and figure it all out after would that sound crazy to you? Desperate? Escapist? For all that I have said and not said at the end of the day I want you, just as you are. Not the “perfect”, “censored”, “tailored” version but the you which is still vulnerable, still wild.
There was no sign of his roommate on exiting and no means to reopen the portal. Was the his friend lost in an internal void or had he simply been refused admittance? A thorough investigation of the shrubberies offered no clues and it was with a heavy heart that he eventually climbed into his bedroom window. The alarm clock read 8 am but he knew not the day for the calender had not been changed since his departure. How long had he been away? What had become of his family in his absence? What suffering had his curiosity imposed? He changed out of his wet clothes, his drawers were precisely as he’d left them, his bed still unmade. Did they expect his return? Or were they simply catering his ghost?
He found his mother elbow deep in the kitchen sink, she was washing up after breakfast. Her contented smile did not betray grief. “Good morning…” She said catching the startled youth in her periphery. “You must have been exhausted…it’s unlike you to sleep in…” She commented regarding him with a teasing smile. Her smile soon turned to a look of surprise. “Your hair it’s so long…” She said in wonderment He reached up and ran his hands through his chin length locks shyly. Indisputable proof of his prolonged excursion. Removing her yellow dish gloves she went over to him and stroked his cheek. Her hands were warm but callused, they were the hands of a woman who’d labored her whole life. “Would you like me to give you a haircut?” She offered.
“No thanks I like it better this way….” He said shaking his head. Reaching into her pocket she fished out an elastic black band and motioned for him to turn around. Complying she pulled his hair into a partial ponytail, a consideration for work no doubt.
“I’ll get you some breakfast…the others are already outside…we’ll join them when you’re finished…” She said but before she could escape he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “You’ve grown…” She said noting the change in both his height and weight.
Weeks passed and life assumed a familiar rhythm. His absence had appeared to them only two hours still they noticed the changes that had taken place in both his appearance and manner. They thought him happier and most of the time he was happier but every now and then he found himself gazing sadly into his neighbor’s hedges. In support of his interest they bought him a guitar for his birthday. On finding that he could already play they were both shocked and delighted. They never spoke of what had happened.
His father was the one that had brought him the audition notice for a local band and it was thanks to his father that he stood now perplexed amongst an excited audience. In that moment he discovered the fate of his roommate. Pushing through a throng of excited onlookers he came to stand several feet away from a huge black stallion, atop which, his missing mate sat triumphantly. Dressed as a general and surrounded by cameramen he had to assume the handsome youth was filming a movie but how had he gotten into the city? His former roommate motioned for a pause on seeing him. Climbing over the rope partition he hurried over to his costumed friend. The last vestiges of his anxiety dissolved, smile weightless.
“We’ll meet up later tonight…give me your address…” Borrowing a pen and a scrap of paper from a cameraman he hurriedly drew a map and stuffed it into his former roommate’s palm.
Seeing as this was a dream I can”t rightly explain the ending but at long last I finished it woohoo! My dreams are monsters geez I basically compose full nonsensical novels in my sleep. I will respond to the prompt on Monday I have it ready I just wanted to knock Polarity out first.