Relationships are so weird.
Strangers come together and struggle so hard to join together.
It’s a weird feeling. To believe someone can fill that void. That someone can understand. Or feel like the rest of your life will be satisfied in this relationship. To be summed up. To know that what was missing from the past has now arrived and will be present for the future. That he is now a part of u and u a part of him. In the ephemeral sense… It doesn’t even matter. I suppose that’s the scary part… That something as trivial as a relationship is so meaningful. That something that cannot last forever feels as though it may. To feel hope. And life. And trust. To feel all those wonderful things that you feel have been promised to you somewhere in the distant past before time began. It’s like trying to remember something that does not exist in the essence of ur recollection. Or grasping for something outside of your reachable memory.
There is a difference between meaning and purpose. Although they are comparable. The meaning of something is to have some sort of essence. The purpose of something is to become of something. Though one may not exist without the other or be unfulfilled one without the other. They can exist separately. One can have meaning without purpose and purpose without meaning.
You wonder if it’s worth it.
You feel like it’s worth it.
It’s so much work.
You wonder why we try so hard.
What is this feeling that draws me so excruciatingly towards you.
What about him compels me to desire?
This imperfect reality…
There’s so much more than the imperfection.
There’s so much of him I want to learn.
And so much of him I need to learn.
So many moments I hid from myself that’s coming to light.
And so much time in the past I don’t know what to make of.
So much of me that I’m unsure of.
And so much of this life I’ve lived that I’m ashamed of.
So much that’s so vague.
So much I still don’t understand.
So many facades of me.
So many changes I’ve camouflaged into
and so much of it I’ve gone in and out of.
So much of me I feel only I can understand.
I’ve transferred and transformed.
I’ve replicated and duplicated.
I’ve flipped, inverted, turned upside down and right side up.
Inside out and outside in.
Side to side and over and under.
Over layered and spread thin over unimaginable lines
and into translucent lights
and apparition-ed myself into invisibility.
How much of me is shaped by the environment around me
and how much of the environment is shaped by me.
Where do I begin and where do I end?
Where do we meet and where do we part?
How much of me is truly me?
And how much of it all is all of it?
Am I only in part me?
Or are we wholly us?
How do I begin to fathom who I am?
Where do I begin to explain myself to u?
How do I expect u to love all of me?