I think we all reach a
point in our lives where we wish it was how it used to be. We
begin to fondly look back at moments in our lives that we once
couldn't wait to surpass. When we're younger, we're
always looking ahead. When we're older, we are always looking
backwards.
I remember the name of every girl who broke my
heart. I can describe each one from head to toe whom did not
return the same level of interest as I had in her. And those
who loved me, excluding a few, remain in the forgotten ashes of my
youth. I suppose we tend to take those who love us, those who
want us for granted; as if, they or someone like them will always be
waiting...
When I was younger and less tame than I am now, I
may have been fixated on fun, friends and living in the moment as
most of us were but I always had one eye open on tomorrow. I
wanted to be a dad for the simple reason, I never had one. I
wanted a wife; the perfect wife. Perfect for me... A
woman that could deal with my neediness, laugh at all my jokes even
if she didn't get my train of thought... A woman who could
intellectually stimulate me while having that grace and beauty God
blessed the woman with... I wanted what most men want.
I got
older and began to realize I am more ordinary than I ever realized
and more special than I ever gave myself credit for... It's this
unhealthy blend of self-depreciation and arrogance.
I have
these detailed dreams constantly. If I take a nap for 10
minutes or an hour or the rare nights, I make it to three hours of
sleep without waking up, it's the same thing... I wake up with this
profound sadness that leaves a lump in my throat and an emptiness I
cannot describe. There is no joy in my dreams. I
don't even know if there ever was.
I am no different than
anyone else whose mind is always racing, whom faces these profoundly
dark and coded dreams. Like them, I tend to think this alone
makes me unique. So, what do I do? I look for someone to
tell those dreams to; as if, anyone really wants to hear them and
decipher them for me. Truth is, maybe, it's just a simple way
of letting someone know you need them and if they are willing to just
listen and grace me with just enough empathy to allow the dream to
fade from memory, I'll feel like someone does care about me.
It's
a difficult admission to state or even write that you really don't
know who cares about you. At some point, we become so cynical,
we just assume there's this small window in life to achieve love and
being loved. If we miss that window, it becomes our life's
mission to just hope someone needs us.
In the last
decade, I've developed some anxiety. Okay, I want to blame
technology or just the normal aging process. I tried to blame
temporary bouts of loneliness. Truth is, I've always had
anxiety but I was never able nor willing to diagnose myself. I
can now.
I look back and start thinking of the names and faces
of each person I have ever loved. And do love. I
desperately try to find exactly what went wrong. Where I went
wrong. Where I always go wrong. Maybe, I've just been
looking at the wrong things. We should always demand the best
from ourselves; the best versions of ourselves we can become BUT that
doesn't mean our self-worth is based on failures or someone not
accepting this version of ourselves. I think true love
exists only when two people seek to transform the other into the best
version of themselves. Together.
Twenty minutes ago,
I had a dream. I was standing in the kitchen with the mother of
my dead best friend. She's bringing in groceries. She
says, "there's a steak on the shelf for you". I look
around and every inch of that kitchen wall is covered in family
portraits. No matter where I look, the eyes of that once
breathing and vibrant best friend are following me.
As I am
preparing this steak bought just for me, walks in the woman I find
myself preoccupied with these days... She looks at me and says, "I'll
cook it for you" and then she simply disappears.
So, I
wake up with this gnawing feeling of loss... Not the loss of the once
great friend or this woman I just wish returned the same level of
interest I have in her BUT this loss of time.
I love where I
am in life.
I hate it, too.
