Solitude

When I noticed this star over the weekend I felt like it understood me.  As if it, too, needed a moment separate from every thing else around it.  Seclusion is the key to my sanity and ability to function.  Dramatic. For sure but no less true.  Deep in Scorpio season the need intensifies.  I used to think it selfish to remove myself from those that enjoy my company.  I've grown up since then.  They'll just have to understand and be patient.  Solace and solitude were my gifts to myself for my birthday this year.  I'm grateful that I was able to do so.

Centered.

Seasons Change

Dear Summer, 

I ran into my old friend Candy Corn today.  It's been nearly a year since we last saw one another.  You can imagine we had lots to catch up on.  We talked and laughed hysterically right there in Big Lots.  so many good times we had.  So much reminiscing lead us to the way I parted ways with Fall.  Crazy how nostalgia made me realize how much I miss Fall.  Don't get me wrong, we've had a great time, too, Summer. It's just, well, let's be honest, we like different things.  You like it intensely hot while I prefer milder temps.  Fall *sigh* just gets me.  

I'll not prolong this letter.  I'm sure you can tell where this is going.  I want to see Fall again.  It's not you, Summer.  It's me. Who knows...maybe we can still be friends.  It'll take a few seasons but you'll come around to the idea, I'm sure. 

It's Been Fun, 

Q

Miss Independent

I was just thinking I need to lean on me a little more.

Loose Grips Sink...Hearts

Sumx I feel the scorpion urge to test connectedness and promises of always and forever. 

I'm tempted to loosen my grip to see if the hand I've clung to will tighten it's grip.  Truth, I think that hand will, without hesitation, let go.  Release every thing that was any thing between us.  So then, why do I hold so tightly to what would let me go so easily?

Maybe because it is still so real to me.

My Brother's Keeper

Live Like You Were Dying

Sumx even nature tries to cheat death. This tree taunts death with its green. Makes me wonder what it is hoping for. One last breeze. Another cool rain to dampen its leaves. Hopes to last the summer to embrace Fall so I can appreciate its marvelous change in color. I've never seen a more glorious not yet. I'd imagine this tree lived the way it's dying...on its on terms.

Musings staring at this tree in my backyard...

Squirrels

What would you do if there weren't dozens upon dozens of distractions pushed to the palm of your hand?

Who would you (re)connect with?

How would you engage with those around? Would you?

Thinking I should watch Crash again...

Choosy Lover

I can't see me choosing the opinions of others, be it family friends or perfect strangers, over what makes me happy. Abdication of this gift is an insult to the Divine and my personal fulfillment. The energy of suppression, in my mind, is better allocated to living loving and exploring to utter exhaustion.

Let my choices be my (big ass) footprint in the sands of time (Yes, Beyonce started singing in my head just then but whatever).

I remember the impact of Frost's "The Road Not Taken" on my soul. I remember making a promise inside, where only god and I could hear, "that will be me".

Consider this, even your indecision is a decision.

Lesson learned.

The Path to Hell...

I don't love without intention. Don't invite me to love you without intention.

There You Are

Remembrance. Recognition of one you've felt and in some realm been aware of and when they reach you in this plane there's a spark. C. S. Lewis summed it best (as I've experienced it), "...me too."

Sounds Like...

So much memory tied to sights and sounds and scents and sensations. The associations made since childhood mimick Pavlovian experimentation.

Totally innoucuous but has become the soundtrack of suspicion and distrust. The way a cell phones plants against a desk. *plugs in headphones* I jack up the volume as loud as it'll go attempting to drown out my reveries. I should not care who was on the receiving end of SEND.

I am a Scorpio so I'm prone to suspicion. You're exempt until you're not. So it goes.

Overture

There's some part of me that likes to pretend that falling in love is purely accidental and of no conscious effort on my part; someone sticks their foot out and trips me to make me fall into it.

Enter the recent opportunity to reconnect with my dad and all that pretending is revealed for the complete farce it is. My heart unfolds like a flower welcoming the warmth of a spring rain. I want to be tender and open in spite of the fear and apprehension. I want to. Even with my dad.

Feels like I'm falling in love for the first time.

Trust Issues

I'm working on trusting people with my layers. I'm learning that I can not control how they'll judge me. Bare.

Do it anyway.

Lemme Know When

just a whisper. or a subtle lingering of fingers. or a glance that melts into a gaze that transcribes otherwise unintelligible feelings often subject to incessant questioning to something that cements sureness.

But I don't want the shit you see in movies. My homeboy cycnicism keeps me from falling for it. Not because I don't believe in love (we'll just go with that for now). Maybe, just maybe, in the darkest recesses of who I am I don't feel like I...wait...my vulnerability just tapped me on my shoulder and has forbade me from completing that sentence. Carrying on. I'll confess, I am reticent to believe that love from one human to another is truly altruistic. People have shown me it isn't. Whether or not they knew I was watching is another story. I have exercised a selfish kind of love to the one I would have taken a blade to the palm of my hand to ink in blood a sworn promise that I would never bring pain to that one heart and yet, I did. I am one of those people.

Now to what stirred this.

There are bits and pieces of me that believe the ever elusive does wish for me likely shrouded in darkness and never will this would-be lover proclaim to their nearest and dearest, and damn sure not from the nearest spire that a cautious amount of affection and desire and longing have had my heart and conglomerate of warm pieces at its epicenter. For long too long I have lied to myself that I understood all the reasons why it's always wishes or covert conversations that my longing is not at all lonely. But I don't understand. I don't dig it. Because I would most certainly express my compelling, compassionate, deep-seated affection and yes, dare I say, love for the ever elusive.

Then, I am only one. Two hands and arms and legs and one beating heart. I am one.

I am a line. My elusive seems to prefer segments. They can form any shape one may desire at a time. A triangle. Square. Whatever allows room for more friends.

One (is more than enough).