when HE'S around...

        Have you ever had that feeling like life would be...

 easier, better, calmer, more beautiful if someone were always around?

That’s how I feel about Him...

Some days are too much but I make it through them anyway. Some days there just isn’t enough of me to go around and I get it all done anyway. Most days there aren’t enough moments that pass to figure out the sadness and conquer it and some how I laugh anyway. While I am able to do these things, because I have trained myself to do so, it doesn’t change the fact that I am simply coasting. Granted, my auto pilot is finely tuned and self aware but my pilot is living on auto all the same. Some how this can all be different – but only when He’s around. I’m alive when He’s around. I still haven’t figured it out but I know it’s true. He makes me angry. He makes me annoyed. He makes me ache. He makes me hurt. He makes me open. He makes me content. He makes me comfortable. He makes me awake. He puts me to sleep. He makes me laugh. He makes me inspired. He makes me worry. He makes me cry. He makes me feel special and like nothing at all. He makes me want to run. He makes me want to love. He makes me love who I am and want to change everything about me. He makes me…alive.

He’s not mine, not even partially. He never will be. There is something so pained and so lovely about this. About knowing that I want to love Him and that I do. About knowing that I can’t love Him and that I don’t. Some how all the things that should be awake in a being are brought back to life in me, by Him. These things He does makes it feel like maybe alone isn’t the only way to feel complete. I don’t want Him and I can’t stand not having Him. I want Him but don’t need Him. I need Him but can’t touch Him. I can touch Him but can’t reach Him. He’s everything and nothing and someone and no one all while bringing me back to life for snippets, moments, in time  - When He’s around.

When He’s around… I try harder. I want him to see the best parts of me and I still feel like it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. I can’t explain it. I constantly think of everything I shouldn’t know. “What’s He going to think of this? Will He think this looks good? Will He notice this? Will He laugh at this? Will He want me today?” It’s a constant stream of things that goes so fast and furious that it’s hard to know when I’m present with him because I’m so busy in my head. And somehow, while it seems like it should be, it’s not exhausting because it’s natural. It’s sickening and calm.

When He’s gone, even just for a while, I forget. I forget what He does and who it makes me. I forget how it feels to lose my breath when He touches me. I forget what it’s like to look at his face and not know why I can’t see him – why I can’t get to him. I forget what it feels like to have him kiss my neck and find myself in a state of confusion on what happened to my legs, knowing they possessed strength before. I forget how it feels to be held and feel like it’s a “fit” and I remember how much I like knowing there isn’t a “fit” for me. I forget what happens when he looks me in my eyes. I forget what happens when he touches my skin. I forget what happens when he talks with passion about art and music and literature and love. I forget who I am in his presence. Then it happens and… He’s around again.

When He’s around I am reminded of these lyrics that make me bleed:

Oh I need

 the darkness

the sweetness

the sadness

the weakness

Oh I need this.

I need a lullaby

A kiss goodnight

Angel sweet

Love of my life

Oh I need this.

I’m a slow dying flower

Frost killing hour

The sweet turning sour

And untouchable.

Why do these words live in the back of my throat when He’s around?

Why, when He’s around, does everything seem…enhanced? Everything is more.

Movies mean more because what He thinks of the picture matters too. Food tastes richer because how much He enjoys it matters just as much. Silence is softer because He’s in the quiet too. Laughter rings louder because it’s twice as joyous when He is amused also. Relaxation is calmer because He makes doing nothing an activity of the heart. Doing nothing with Him matters… how does He do that?

When He’s around it’s just Him and then people, just…people.

But then…

When He’s not around, He’s gone and there are friends and family and men and Me being Me and only Me. It’s hard to know what’s better - Who’s better…

Me when He’s around or Me. It’s problematical because I don’t choose either of these people into existence. When He’s around my mask wears thin without any control over the rate of fatigue. When He’s around, my heart appears without notice or permission. And when he leaves its left laying there unnoticed and raw, retreating more slowly each time, I assume with the hope that He’ll feel the faint beating that’s fighting to be heard because it’s waiting for him to feel its presence and beat too. It lays there and waits for him to turn around and give his approval. He doesn’t. Whenever my heart bleeds… He’s not around and I eventually manage to close in. After this torturous agony coming and going – going and coming, I try to stay at a distance. When He says things like, “You have no idea how precious you are to me” I lose myself. He doesn’t do it, it’s me. All it takes are words for Him to “be around”.  I’ve tried to perfect the ability to be a human mirage but somehow, it all fails, it falls –when He’s around.