I caught a whiff of something. A shirt, I think. And I pulled it to my face and inhaled deeply. The world spun and suddenly I was back in your bed. I was warm and content as you slept next to me. The world could have been frozen in time and I’d not have known. How strange it is that the scent of a piece of clothing can take me so far back. So grateful I am that I remember the past as memories of comfort and safety, when all around was chaos and war.
Here I am. Right here. My eyes are approximately 4.5 feet from the floor. They’re shit brown but if you were to actually look closely you’d see they’re made of little galaxy’s and tiny loops of chocolate and gold around my black pupil. Instead you won’t look at me. Everywhere but at me. Around me, past me, through me. I’d love it if you’d notice me. I take the initiative, I look you in the eye, and you divert. Notice me.
And then finally you do, and I forget how to be noticed.
Come back to me. I always thought you would. I didn’t think I’d have to ask. I’m not talking to anyone…asking this to anyone. I am asking it of love. Love itself; come back to me. Fickle and heartless you can be, yet come back to me. I can still feel the remnants of you on my fingertips. The way you felt as you slipped through my fingers. Many nights I’ve spent sleeping alone, wishing for the warmth and comfort of you again.
Come back to me love; ich vermisse dich.
I want you to do something for me. You don’t know me personally but you’ve read my heart and soul through this computer screen and now I need you to do something for me. I need to you look at yourself in the mirror. But I need you to really look. Grab a handheld mirror, get as close as you can to a mirror and look. And I want you to stare yourself right in the eyes. I want you to look at your eyes, the pupils and the iris. The way they meet and blend together. Look at the little swirls and loops of color. Your eyes are a galaxy, forgotten and unappreciated.
Why is it we look into the eyes of others and notice them, but we forget our own? I used to think my eyes were boring brown until I truly looked. And in them I saw a galaxy full of beauty. Almost other worldly. Almost. Perhaps? Just look.
Rock bottom. Everyone experiences it in their lifetime…sometimes multiple times, unfortunately. Is it unfortunate though? Perhaps for some, I think. For me, it did what all the stories and magazines and books say it will do: it built me. Sitting at the bottom of an endless cavern of self doubt and misery morphed me into something different. Like a butterfly finally breaking free of it’s cocoon, I opened my wings and thought “Look how beautiful I am”. The self love grew at an extremely quick rate. Just like time flies, so did my passion for life. And I began to realize that in the end, i’m all I’ve got, so I better treat me right.
And now a night alone on the couch with wine and popcorn sounds better than any date. A day of self love and encouragement sounds better than any social gathering. I am confident and strong, and at times this seems like more of a curse than a blessing, for I haven’t found that many others to surround myself with that are in the same place in life as me. They’re worth waiting for. As for me, I’ll allow my love to grow and multiply and spread it around my little world like jam of a warm piece of toast.
My life changed the day I realized I should ask myself what I can learn from others rather than what I can teach them. My life changed when I realized I’ll never be like anyone else but myself. I changed when I realized that change isn’t a bad word.
Most of all I began to grow when I learned how to water myself.
When I was small I met a boy. He, too, was small. He’d hold my hand as we walked around the apartment community. We didn’t know anything; nothing at all. One day behind a loud air conditioner in the middle of summer he kissed me. A tender little kiss I can still remember to this day. My first kiss.
Afterwards, we walked to the convenience store and we bought candy cigarettes. We never kissed again after that.
Sometimes I look out from my window and imagine the bland grey parking lot is the ocean. I imagine the smell of the ocean so close to me. Permeating my home, my clothes, my mind. There’s something about the ocean I can’t quite explain. When you’re near it it’s almost like you’re on another planet. When you put your toes in, you’re connected to each different continent.
Then there are the mountains. The ones I imagine are also outside my window. With my imagination I can transform rooftops into mountain ranges and chimneys into vast, healthy trees. I miss the mountains so much I create them in my mind. I miss the ability to be able to drive for an hour and be so far into the wilderness I won’t see another human until I drive an hour back.
If I had the choice of being near the ocean or the mountains, the mountains would win every time. When I’m near towering, humbling trees I feel connected to the earth. When I’m climbing a mountain I feel like I am going to reach heaven. When I am trekking upon a trail, surrounded by the knowing unknown I feel grounded…and dare I say, happy?