I love you, beyond reason. And most of the time, without doubt.
But sometimes, my brokenness slips past the cracks of my control.
Rising up from the basement–where I’ve kept its influence at bay.
Until it finds a way into my mouth. And forces me to lash out.
I have learned to live with its existence. To give grief and pain a place.
Because no matter how much you love someone, there will be times
that you push them away.
I retreat. To my corner, to my bedroom, to a horizontal position on the couch.
Sinking deeper into the cushions. Getting comfortable in the gloom and the clouds.
Will you find me beneath the dark waters? Swim harder if you know I will drown?
Or will the murky surroundings conceal your vision?
And keep us both from climbing back out.
I remember being assured that failure was not a permanent disposition. That mistakes made in earnest pursuit of the truth would eventually take me to the right place. Still, I endeavored to perfect my ability to get it right the first time. Who wants to drop the ball or try and then fall when there is an option to be the best at everything?
In early grade school I believed that I could handle it all. In time I learned that I had a broad aptitude for many different subjects, semi-athletic skills and a mouth that could fill in the remaining gaps. What I lacked, however, was that one specific thing that I could claim was meant for me.
Some people ran faster, scored higher and knew exactly what was in their destiny. I envied those with their heads on straight and dreams that were supported by their perfect families. I could not understand what made me different or why the idea of excellence seemed so far away.
I had a hard time believing that what was special about me was the fact that I was not the same.
As a parent now I urge my daughter to celebrate and learn from her mistakes. Perfectionism is a crippling disease and I vow not to let her inherit what I have had to learn the hard way. We all need to get more comfortable with the truth of our individual and beautiful flaws.
The truth about perfection, is that nobody is perfect at all.
Bear with me,
I carry the effects of my poor excuse for a memory. I may not remember everything but I always feel the pain in my body. It aches behind my eyes and in spots I cannot place. I try to sleep it off but it is with me when I awake. I wonder, what good is remembering the past if you fail to learn from your grief? How do you fight for something when you’ve begun to lose all belief? The mind plays tricks–looking for cracks to disprove what experience taught. Trust is the confident arrow aiming to break your fragile heart. For so long I fought against creating a life of my own. But I am a community, I am a building–A vacant chair in an empty home.
They said I don’t really need you.
What I need is understanding and a patience that most people have forgotten to treasure. What is wrong with doing it my way if my direction keeps us together? Maybe this room is not big enough, and this chair is too small. Maybe we are not meant to be a community after all. I do better when time passes and I have learned to play my part. We deny truth in favor of doing the right thing.
But what good is your pride, valor, or integrity if they all keep you away from me?
We tend to ask questions when we already know what we need.
We separate by force. Distance keeps us at arms bay.
But I know I’ll crave your embrace in these coming days.
I wonder if your peace still lies with me.
Can you even sleep?
Or is your heart at rest knowing the best part is over?
And all that remains is effort given in vain.
Most people give up too quickly.
Doubt consumes courage.
Love grows sour.
And interest steadily declines.
I continue to hope for you.
Pray you’re at your best.
Even if at the end of things,
I don’t express much clearly.
I refused to be consistent because
I never wanted you to depend on me.
I mirrored your habits.
Became someone less…
But I digress.
I just want your heart
to be at rest.
Several bouts of loneliness later, I endeavored to stop trying. I realized I am stuck in my ways, and fitted with an intense stubbornness that will not acquiesce so easily. Maybe if we met 10 years ago you could have “saved me” from myself–as men so often claim to do when women are being unreasonable. But now–now, I am content to build my castle with the debris from every failed relationship behind me. I do not understand the concept of prince charming. And I have no reservation about taking care of my own responsibilities.
Most importantly, I do not want anything that does not want me.
What is mine however, falls under the wing of my intention. I am part lover, all-fighter and sometimes both roles demand emphasis. Love does not just exist when we are madly locked in a passionate embrace. It does not trifle with temporary.
Love says, “I woke up early to make you breakfast in preparation for your meeting”.
Love commands your attention when you forget why you are fighting.
Love says, “I choose YOU,” over other people, over my doubts, over this ugly mess we created.
Love is continually choosing US over EVERYTHING.
….Emphasis on continually.
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See You There!
I saw the clouds in your eyes as you tried to remember why you started. That blanketed expression you offered when you wished things were different although you know life has the ultimate and final say. What could ever possess a person to commit their entire life to dying with nothing but the darkest stenches of mediocrity? Why does living feel like the longest endeavor when it is the soul held captive in this unforgiving human body? Maybe the biggest fear is that they won’t consider your efforts–when the truth is intention means nothing if it does not bring you peace. It used to be about love and honest representation, but now all we do is mask our eternal suffering. Mistakes linger in our hearts–puncturing foundations with their ever-present tease. I know I am not above this “missing pieces” theory. Just like you, I fear failure and the inevitability of time given in vain, if I leave. But you can’t force puzzles to fit where they are not meant to be. I just wish you would admit to yourself what neither party wants to believe:
You will never find what you are looking for, if you refuse to set yourself free.
Let’s Stay Connected!
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– Jen Cosby
Perhaps you will not have to brace yourself for impact. We know how all things that are not meant to be end. At the beginning, we are so full of wistful expectation that we fail to see the oncoming doom in all its glory.
You were not meant for me.
I whisper this thought internally, because saying it out loud will force me to accept its reality. If I keep it to myself–maybe we can escape the anger and pain that comes when people disappoint you. Maybe being silent keeps us of ignorant of the truth.
But we both know this isn’t true.
Instead, silence rears its ugly head at the exact moment you need to speak. It glances over restoration and latches onto apathy. Now I do not care to fight anymore or try to make things work when I have given all I’ve got and you sat there unchanging.
Famous for painting pictures that no one else can see.
Pity comes from a place of superiority. You “feel bad” for someone–but fail to see how close you are to your own painful story. I was broken in ways that I will never repeat.
Now all I want is to be set free.