Nightcall

[Sometimes, I like to recommend others to listen to a certain song as a backdrop while reading something I wrote. With that being said, if I were you, I’d go ahead and click the link below.] http://

It’s Sunday. The only reason I’m even remotely aware of this is because, one, we have church this morning, and two, I’m not sitting behind a teller window waiting on irate members. You’d think I’d be in more of a chipper mood, but let me assure you, it’s not that simple, nor am I feeling the need to be chipper. I think the word we’d be looking for here is sullen; maybe disappointed even, but certainly not chipper.

I want to say forgive me for my honesty in this more recent post, but I’m not sure if forgiveness is exactly what I’m going to need. Reassurance seems to be a more rational thing to ask for.  Reassurance that even though I’m choosing to be so bare backed and naked with vulnerability, that I’m not the only one. It seems so irrational for me to want to express myself so publicly, and honestly I’m against it–stating your every emotion with the world just because your day sucked–because who’s really going to make anything better if you can’t help yourself? That’s why self-reliance can be such a curse sometimes. I don’t think I really care anymore though. If anything, I want to be completely honest with anyone who comes across my page, and to see me for my complete self, and more importantly, to be honest with myself. I tend to sugar coat everything so that I can cope with it. I can’t face the hideousness of all reality, because dear God, where do I go from there? When I realize that some things really are as bad as they seem, how do you deal with that; but that’s what makes me the person I am today. I’ve always dealt with every single harsh reality just in that way; the harshness of it all. I never, NEVER numbed any of it, not with a single vice. Every single wound, I left open, to bleed until it slowly healed in it’s own time. I learn to cope, whether I really want to or not. So when I say forgive me for these next few paragraphs that I’m about to wright, I’m not really asking for forgiveness, I’m asking for permission if you will, to let me open myself up and show you what I really feel. Nothing is more satisfying than when you pour everything out into something/someone, to release it from being so heavy on your heart.

“You crossed this line. Do you find it hard to sit with me tonight?”

It’s not that I’m asking for everything. Honestly, the bare minimum would do, but I feel nothing. I feel nothing from you anymore, at least, because I still feel everything. I think that’s what hurts the most, ya know? I remember a time when I would so wholeheartedly trust anyone, because I never had reason to believe that I couldn’t/shouldn’t be vulnerable and open with people. Somewhere down the line, I learned precisely why you shouldn’t just toss your heart around. It’s probably not a good idea to walk around wearing it on your sleeve either. The access is too easy, and who knows who’ll walk right up to you, snatch it away, then return it in shambles.

“I’ve excused you for a while, while I’m wide eyed, and I’m so damn caught in the middle.”

Somehow, that’s always where I feel I end up–in the middle of something. I want to tell you that it’s okay to be confused, to still care for someone so deeply that you’ve known for so long, but then where does that leave me? Because, it’s not okay to push me away and become distant when, all this time, I’ve always been here. What am I supposed to do in the mean time while you figure this out? It’s hardly fair when I already care and feel everything for you. I usually suppose it’s always my own fault though, when I get myself into such situations. I feel I should always know better, but I somehow assume that I can’t possibly go through the same thing over and over, but I suppose a person can. I get this notion that being with someone–caring for someone–should come so easily, dear Jesus, I must have been wrong for a long time.

It’s not that I’ve given up all hope, because somewhere in the back of my mind and the depths of my heart, I presume that this will all still work out. That it’s simply just a hiccup of some sort. In that same sense though, I can’t simply overlook everything and pretend that it doesn’t bother me. If you were to ask me where to go from here, I’d have to say that was up to you.

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