How the heart grows founder in the distance.
It’s been a while, yet I’ve never loved you
As much I love the memory of you today.
We go from sinners to saints when we pass the gate
But I don’t recall a single one of your mistakes
All you ever dared to do was love
And I can only aspire to ever be that brave.
In days like today, when I feel the least of myself, you often come to mind. How much you wanted me to be happy, to live a full life and love wildly. And I hold on to that. Your hopes and dreams for me keep me from fainting.
It’s funny that even after all those years, you’re still the one pushing me to be better. I’ve only known you for slightly more than a handful of years and the memory of you still hunts my days. I can’t go anywhere and not bring you with me.
I can’t hear your voice in my mind anymore, I can only recall how it sounded. Soft, slightly raspy, and joyful. You always talked like you were smiling.
It’s funny how my most vivid memory of you is from a sunny morning during summertime, the sun peeking through the blinds, you sitting at the edge of my bed, explaining to me what it meant to mourn. Your wife’s brother had passed, and when you told me she would be mourning, I asked you what that meant, I hadn’t been taught that yet. I must have been 6 or 7 at the time. I knew very little and I wasn’t the best kid, but you loved me still. And you cared for me, you always had my best interests at heart. You gave me a yellow bird, because I liked to help you take care of yours so much. You whistled everywhere you went, and taught me how to do it myself. Every other day you’d call me a different bird name. There’s lump in my throat every time someone ask about the hummingbirds, I still can’t bring myself to talk about you. Not as well as you deserve it.
I’m sorry for failing so terribly at doing you justice. I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to be better. For you. Because of you.
It’s the middle of June. I’m sitting at a cool coffee place. It’s sunday. It’s sunny. I could say I’m content. I wouldn’t say it’s hard to make me happy, but I’m still picky about it.
Happiness comes in many shapes and forms, and to me, happiness is to be left alone with my thoughts for a little bit. I don’t find being alone sad and lonely whatsoever, it’s quite the opposite actually. Bits like this one help me keep my sanity. There’s no pressure to say the right thing, to make the conversation flow, to avoid an awkward silence.
Silence is underrated. It doesn’t have to be awkward just because it’s quiet, sometimes you can just allow yourself to exist in stillness.
It’s a difficult thing to obtain: silence. An even harder thing to find? Silence for two.
People often thing that just because you’re quiet, you’re not connected. When in fact, to me, the goal has always been to find someone I can be quiet with.
As someone who is not the best with conversation, I often struggle to find the right words, and dealing with the pressure of finding the right thing to say can be quite overwhelming, especially when you’re trying to get to know someone.
But how do you get know someone if you don’t say anything? I guess words flow once the silence is comfortable enough. When you don’t feel the pressure to say something, you can talk about anything. And that’s what I want. An easy conversation starts with the lack of need to say something.
I guess I want the impossible. I’ve always wished for something that doesn’t quite exist. And I don’t bother to settle for less than my impossible standards. I’ve grown too comfortable in my own silence to let someone else disturbe it. I want someone who will do more than respect my silence, I want someone who will understand it and crave for it as much as I do.
I don’t think that’s impossible. Or even necessarily difficult. But I do know that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m wiling to sit by myself for many more sundays until I find that perfect silence for two. In the meantime I can just waste my words here instead.