jwcruz

jwcruz

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Maybe we're not so different. Maybe one person's perceptions are simply those masked by another. Maybe we all experience this life the same way and we choose to respond differently. Maybe I'm choosing the wrong way. Maybe.

"It's all about timing though, isn't it?" She said this to me as we lie together in bed. Her smiling. Me, looking away. I couldn't believe what we'd just done. Yesterday I wouldn't have believed there was ever an appropriate time for this. Now. I'm not so sure. I turned back toward her and returned the smile.

oak

I sat beside the tall oak tree, its shade shielding me from the truth-filled daylight. I sat alone for the first time in ages; just me and my thoughts. A journal sprawled out on my lap; listening, and thinking. Content. With myself.

I peer out over the porch rail, like an emperor admiring his vast conquests. It feels great to be free and safe on this warm, winter's day. Such has not necessarily always been the case. But if the ends ultimately prove to justify the means, however convoluted and tortuous the road has been, is it worthwhile to admonish oneself for the missteps of the past? Isn't that much like trying to stitch the clouds together with twine?

We sat on the bench together facing the bridge. My hand near enough to feel the warmth of yours, but far enough to not overstep my boundaries. But then you did. You reached over and nestled your hand into mine. And craned your head into the nook of my neck. I have never been so in love as I was with that starlit version of us.

The group of people around me are reduced to nothing. It's impossible to feel like a member of the whole when all you can see are the faults in others. Dissection completed in a moment. I look at you and I see everything you're afraid that I will see. And it's ok.

I would give anything for that big break. I would drop everything that I've accomplished (and that certainly is not nothing) to have an opportunity, To be someone known. To be someone seen. To be someone. Because I think they'd like me. And then maybe I would too.

I cannot remember the last time anything made me feel overjoyed. That's not true, I remember every time I have ever felt overjoyed. Incidentally each is shrouded in the inevitable disappointment that follows. There is no worse feeling than realizing just how badly you have misjudged a situation.

I refuse to be limited by my place in time. I refuse to be limited by place in life. I refuse to be limited by my sense of self. Perhaps I'm too old to maintain grandiose ideals of historic adoration and respect, but here we are. There is always hope.

decoy

I've always thought of myself as two separate people. Not in the Dissociative way. Rather in the sense that I can establish a facade better than anyone. I know the right things to say in any given situation, but manage to never lose my sense of self. The inner me is always cognizant and very much in control. Isn't that what knowing yourself is all about? Being who they want you to be, but never letting go of who you really are.

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writing since 2013 · 38 entries · 37 days shown up

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on this day 12 years ago

John wrote about oak
“I sat beside the tall oak tree, its shade shielding me from the truth-filled daylight. I sat alone for the first time in ages; just me and my thoughts. A journal sprawled out on my lap; listening, an…”

the words John reaches for

wondersometimessensehelplovefarnowsurechoicehomeroomsmilelookingunderstandliveleast