Long Call Home

I see a reflection in a glass, and it is not mine, it is yours. As I look through the silicon barrier between you and I, a picture forms. Of sunny days, and picnics, gossamer tales of ‘I am for you’. Am I dreaming, or imagining the soulful wonderment in your eyes? Perhaps superimposing my own desire for a perfection of spirit, made only for me? Arms to reach for mine, mine stretching out to close around empty air. I am bound by a need to search for the one who feels no other inside him but myself.


You say I intrigue you. There is no reason for it I think. Layers upon layers of myself as there may be, looked on as a whole, I am a relatively simple creature, who has finally reached that point in my life where I want, need, more than temporary fulfillment, and am willing to hold out for it. I settled once, never again. It hurts too much to sell out oneself, merely to not be alone. Solitude is preferable to emptiness, to me. I have fear of saying too much, or not enough. But I write myself out in lines to better understand me, and if, along the way, it touches a kindred, then I feel good that I bared my heart. Otherwise what point is there? I don’t seek fortune or fame, I don’t publish what I write, it’s shown to only a select few, those who are curious enough to ask for it, or those who touch me inside where I need for them to understand me.


I am not good at standard things thought of by ‘normal’ minds. I am a constant student, always seeking to learn, about me, others, hearts and minds inexorably woven together to form a whole. I am drawn to you, without being able to put it into coherent words. I have been told I smile quite often, and I suppose I do.


Many think I am someone to be guarded around, because I say things openly, even if I’m afraid of what one might think or say. I don’t know how to behave any differently. Although I will admit I say and feel things in a bit more dramatic fashion than perhaps others might consider. I am cursed with a reader’s mind, and therefore everything I write is coloured with the same imaginative brush as those who have touched some deep place within.


What do you seek? What do you one day hope to find? I don’t know. That is always paramount to the innate nature of any relationship, even if it goes no deeper than the friend level. I have many who I consider acquaintances, few whom I choose to call truly ‘friend’. Not because they’re pretty or popular, or even very smart, or as wordsy (if that’s a word at all) as myself. They often don’t even understand on a surface level most of what I talk about or think or feel..but they FEEL it, inside, where it matters most to me; it touches them. I feel it, reverberating against my walled off inside heart. In them I find freedom, not to say whatever I want to, but what I feel, think and believe, knowing it doesn’t matter whether or not they happen to agree with it, they accept the rightness of it for me to feel such.


Do you accept such? Can you? I wonder. I hope so, I want you to. Do you feel strongly about certain things, have deep beliefs that no one is allowed to tell you are wrong? Stand by yourself if you have to in order to protect that which is rightfully yours to keep, hold dear, and cherish? Are you the rock people break themselves on, or the water that will freeze inside and split even the strongest stone, eventually wearing it down to nothing? Ever flowing, allowing all things to follow their natural course? What touches you, gives you cause to tremble, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? These answers I seek, in all things, to know, fully, and feel the rightness of it in a person. Someday, perhaps you will show me who you are, inside, in the night, when you cannot fight any longer what you desire above all else.


Maybe it’s merely my own ever vivid imagination, planting such questions in my head, who knows. Sometimes I can’t say anything, emotions and the wonder I feel are…just so strong. Someday…I wait for a someday and a whisper of, “please…stay.” That’s a wish upon a star if ever there was one, a dream to hold on to. But it’s a dream worth having, and waiting for, don’t you think?



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