Tag Archives: words

She’s not alone.

I am so tired

and

everything in life

is going

very amazingly.

I wrote him a poem.

He admires me.

I’m afraid to speak the words back

because I have so little trust in words,

so little trust in feelings,

because they are fickle and fail me all the time.

I choose just to try.

I choose to try to love.

I choose to show, not with words to express feelings,

but with actions and consistency.

Because I use my words to cycle through the thoughts and feelings and loneliness and desire

but now is the time for action.

So I make every act an act of love.

And I try to act as frequently as possible.

As frequently as necessary.

Sometimes it is necessary not to act.

Sometimes love is in the patience.

And other times words and feelings betray me.

Because I know they are based on fickle things, I know they will not last, and I know that they will melt away into the air like the thoughts they’re founded on.

Love is a continuous and conscious effort to do the right thing.

I am loving him.

I will love him.

It doesn’t mean that I won’t hurt him.

But I am open to doing the most, doing my best, to love him without causing unnecessary pain…To recognize when I am in the way of his love, when I am not loving at all.

Love is an action.

And I’m about to fall asleep.

So I’ll love him when I wake up, or in my dreams.

Whichever comes first.

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Filed under Cdukulele's love life.

Poem: Wading through thorns.

“I appreciate you” I say pointlessly, while my hormones are raging, and I allow them to force me to speak this momentarily overwhelming stupid thought, that is half honesty, out of an attempt to make you communicate something more toward me. Communicate. With me.

Heart pounding and I see you smile and just want to wrap my arms around you, wrap your arms around me, be warm and soft and held tight like you love me.

Cursing these hormones and these thoughts and hopes that are built on short bouts of laughter and glances from your dark, beautiful eyes.

You stare a lot, and I don’t know what you communicate, but you set my heart on fire and it won’t seem to go out.

Glances and smiles with those beautiful eyes and beautiful cheeks and beautiful teeth gleaming white, perfectly set in a smiling mouth.

You are beautiful. You are gorgeous. You are attractive and every physical part of me wants to be closer to you, and I’m at war with myself, mind over matter, because the matter is trying to take over and I’m starting to lose my mind.

I don’t want to lose my mind.

Because mentally, oh beautifully attractive one, mentally I know it is not time. Mentally, oh captivating heartthrob, causer of my heartbeats and blackouts of mind, mentally, I know that this is more overwhelming infatuation than love. This is more biological than rational, this is more instinct than instance, this is more me wanting to be loved than me loving, and I can’t have that.

I can’t have this.

I repel that desire for objectification, no matter the momentary elation of that satiation of desire, I repel that instant gratification, that short term duration of feeling, built on matter fleeting, of feeding that burning fire
that burns without purpose except to excite, that burns with heat but gives no great light, that burns to consume and exhaust and deplete, I reject that sterile and empty feat.
I reject the unwholesome consumption of you, crumbling your beauty not loving you through, I reject that notion that hearts can’t be tamed, that we can go on and on and not be blamed, I reject this notion, this desire to obtain, I reject these thoughts that leave love lame, I reject the dampening of Purity’s gleam, ruining her waters, defiling a stream of love, of goodness, of truth and joy, of happiness and beauty and all we employ when deeply and truly loving each other, I reject the bad and will accept no other love – except a love that is true, a love that loves every aspect of you.

I will fight for the truth and a heart that embraces
you and every single one of your faces,
you when you’re broken and you when you’re down,
you when you’re silent and when you make no sound,
you when you’re shouting and singing for joy,
you when you’re manly, or when you feel like a boy,
you when you need me and you when you don’t,
you when you help me and you when you won’t,
to love you despite, in addition, and because,
to love you for reasons that were, are, and was,
I will fight for a love that embraces all things that make you more holy and through which God brings us closer to him and to each other, deeper in love with him and one another.

I will fight for the Love he provides with no mercy.
I will fight for the Love he provides til I’m worthy
to have you, to hold you, to love you, a man,
I will fight to love you and try til I can.

You are beautiful, sitting across from me, and once that beauty was all I could see, blinded by the gift of sight, couldn’t see the soul surrounded in light. You are beautiful, sitting across from me, and I will try to love that beauty, love and respect and pray for and wait, and melt the lust that’s hiding self-hate. You are beautiful, you reflect perfection, and I will wait until God points me in the right direction. You are beautiful and my heart reaches for you, but it will stay still until I ever say “I do”.

Thank you Lord, for the beauty in the world, and please protect the heart of this awestruck girl.

AMEN.

 

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Filed under Cdukulele's love life., Love Poems

Sound Check

My friend still has cancer as far as I know, and I don’t even know where she is.

School is kinda bringing me down, what with the not studying and potentially failing that last test I took…I got to the second page of the test and had flashbacks to when I was failing Chemistry.

I have a fading crush on a super Christian guy who has no time for me.
I’m developing a crush on a guy who I just want to love like Christ whose time I can’t even comprehend.

I sing about my crushes in public.
I drive cars.
I’m going to drive one tomorrow, to the scary part of town, where I accidentally almost run red lights and spend twenty minutes trying to parallel park and then realize I’m in a loading zone.

After that I’m gonna be an extra in a friend’s film where I’m casted as the chick that the guy looks away from when the “hot girl” enters the room.

This initially bruised my ego until I recognized that I really don’t try to be “hot” so much as “sweet” and “kind” and “funny” and not being the “hot girl” in some random film is totally fine.

I came to this conclusion after some ego nursing. Singing songs on a stage and being appreciated for it helped with the getting over not being “hot”.
Also, dressing up for the music playing and walking around all day hearing the classmates who typically see me in jeans and walking shoes saying I looked “nice” was also a boost.
The guy I’m developing a crush on saying “You look nice,” as soon as he saw me also boosted my self esteem.
The guy I’m trying not to develop a crush on standing right next to me and talking completely like a normal human being also kinda made my heart thump a little.
Because before that it was clearly stopped.
Because I am dead inside.
And cold.
Unlike the hot girl.

The muscle cramps that came at 2am, 3:30am, and 4am were almost worth looking nice and wearing flats all day instead of supportive walking shoes.

And for future reference, the shirt that my sister gave me that says “I fall in love at least twice a day…” is both fitting in concept and reality, as I cannot wear that skin-tightness in public.
It’s too revealing, on so many levels.
And ultimately, if you find this post and connect it to the person who wrote it, that shirt is my disclaimer. And I may exaggerate my obsession with you. I mean, my attraction to you.
Because exaggerations are more interesting than reality.
And also they become my reality when I try to vent all the feelings out at nearly 3am, which is totally a good time to be doing that and not sleeping.

…and I wish I had one really good friend in this time zone that I could vent all that too and still feel loved and not like I’m weighing them down with my life afterwards.

“Check…1.2..3…How’s it sound?…Are we good?”

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Flagpole Friendship

Dear guy,
you’re in my life and I don’t know why,
I prayed for an ease to the loneliness and you came,
but I don’t know if the reason for your coming is the same
or connected to the answer to my prayer.
I do appreciate you being there.
However, dear guy,
I really shouldn’t lie,
I appreciate your friendship,
but I always want more, like kinship,
and I know that is not a good idea with you,
because I don’t think that’s an idea you’re favorable to,
and even if you were, we’re far too different to make that work.
Work,
work,
work,
work,
work,
work,
work,
work,
work,
work,
flagpole.

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Positive side effects.

Heh, I just wrote my first post in nearly two weeks and I already feel better about everything I’ve been stressing about since then… Which would be, school and my relationships and my future…

I mean, maybe I shouldn’t be posting another post five seconds after that last one, but…I feel better than I have for a while, and it seemed to have started just about as soon as I clicked the “publish draft” button on that last post.

See, I’ve been so stressed about what I’m supposed to be doing with my life, and the fact that I am studying how to be a teacher and I don’t even know if I want to be one, and wondering if I just don’t like my classes, or what the classes are about, and I’ve been talking to all my family about it, and the random guy friend and classmates, and I still don’t know what to do about school or life in general, and then of course, being the mountain out of molehill builder that I am, I wondered if I’d ever find anything I’d be happy at or if I’d just have to get a job and do it and be miserable forever and ever…and then I posted in my blog….and I feel better.

Like it will be okay.

Like maybe this semester will be better. Like, worst case scenario, I can struggle through this semester and use my credits to transfer to a different program, and figure out something else, but just keep blogging no matter what, keep writing something somewhere no matter what…Keep writing. Or maybe I’ll find out that while it may seem really hard, and is a bit challenging, I can actually do the teaching thing, and I might actually enjoy it. Maybe I’m good at it…Maybe…

I don’t know quite what to do with my life, but I know that writing about it helps. Blogging about it helps. Just like the singing songs about my surgery and failed romances helps.

Just getting the words out helps.

It doesn’t always help saying them directly to family or friends, or the people who broke your heart by never calling you on the phone when you gave them your number (yeaaa, okay, that was the topic of my first unrequited love song), because they don’t always know how to respond or you don’t want a response, (or you actually can’t talk to them)….But just saying the words, for your sake at least, it helps.

It helps me.

And so this gets posted fifteen minutes after my last post, because I like writing and it made me feel better and now I need to press the publish button again to save the positive feelings forever.

Goodnight again.

-cdukulele

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Coffee, carrots, and chords.

A couple things.

I really do care, and you, on the other hand, clearly do not.

I was there for you, for that moment, and you were there for you too.

You’re cute.

With your pride and your glory and your beauty and your story that I listen to so eagerly, but every time you talk to me it’s so that I can be your sounding board, and so I am, and thank the Lord, that I am here for you, because you are not…there.

I care.

You, you pick up your phone, like you are alone, and you walk right out, no whisper or shout, just gone.

Gone.

I hold on to your song.

I should let go, and you really should know, that I am more than a ear for your voice, but it’s all my choice, and I listen.

I just listen and wish I could glisten in your shine, that some light would be mine, but all is yours and there’s no time for me.

So I should move on, put my voice in my song, and maybe find someone who will listen…and sing along.

Someday.

-cdukulele

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How not to

Fall in love.

Cool. Yeah. Well.
Unfortunately I don’t know where we could meet to play songs and compose music and not fall in love.
I’m ridiculous.
Land mines everywhere.
(Reading some very violent literature too.)
I don’t really talk to people about logistics.
I talk about something, but never the steps to attain it.
M.n.o.p.qrstuvwxyz.
Alphabet.
Simplistic comfort.
Thoughtless construction.
Never know what to say.
Too much.
Too little.
Half sure he’s never thinking as much about things as I am.
But he may be.
Sigh.
(From early February and the days of Drama guy. )

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