burning

august 11, 2017

sometimes i want to burn the ghosts of pain that haunt my memories, those remnants of the past that still frighten or sadden that coast through afternoon thoughts, pulling tears with them, forcing me to ask what it is that makes them so meloncholy.

people die and moments die, and both live on in the realm of our imaginations. and sometimes those apparitions of my past present themselves as though i need to examine them again to see if their weight has shifted, to see if their message has changed, to see if i can let go of what haunts and replace it with something lighter, more endearing. something precious because it simply reminds me of the time i was able to share with someone, even if the whole time i wished that it was something different. there is a part of me that does pursue the pain because it's better than nothing. better than wondering. all this intimacy i used to share with people. and somewhere along the way i felt cheated because it makes it lonely now, having the past to compare to the present. and so i know i need to keep striving to be more present. and to enjoy what is present as it will someday also just become a whisp in my mind of a time long gone, maybe eventually forgotten.

every time i ask why i could not be loved i answered because of the way that i look. but now i feel like it's because i couldn't say no. i couldn't admit to myself that what i settled for wasn't actually what i wanted, and my ego still harvested so much instant gratification from finally being acknowledged as a woman to be touched and adored, albeit temporarily, that i settled for a few seconds of a shade of intimacy i thought would satisfy me. and it never did. sometimes it allowed me to let go, finally, of the hope that something more would happen between me and that person. but it still stung. still haunted years later when i felt envious of the women who had the right thing to make them want something more.

i don't want to look back on lovers and feel deceived or bitter or swindled or unfulfilled. i don't want to use those happy moments as reasons to believe i don't deserve to be loved the way i want to be. i want to enjoy seeing brief glimpses into the stories i co-authored with the different people who welcomed me into their lives for a little while.

i'm not a tourist, but a visitor, sipping in the temporal treats that tempt me to linger longer in the moment than is often allowed. collecting images and sensations and emotions. my motivations have been misguided. natural. carnal. but years later when those ghosts dance in the clarity of the future, i want to be able to feel their warmth and to cry because of the joy that they still fill my heart with, rather than the pain my faulty perspective got in the habit of imbuing when my soul felt lonesome. there is nothing wrong with being alone. and the next time i have the opportunity to feel something reciprocal, i don't think i'll have to worry about much. i think those ghosts have provided me with enough awareness of my darkness to remind me that what i truly want will not feel like something i have to hold tightly onto before it slips away. it will feel like something that i do not have to mourn or doubt.