Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Lost Angels of Love, a continuation

I can't say for certain why I choose to write such things down. Some times I believe that it is because I enjoy revisiting the feelings of what it once was. Some times I feel that it helps me to come to terms with what I know is of a surety. Some times, there is no reason except, that I feel the urge and need to do so. It could be that it is all of these within the same reason. What ever the reason maybe, I do know, that in putting words to my anguish, my grief, my triumph, my passion, my never dying love for those that I truly fall in love with, it helps me to see things more clearly. In a sense get the thoughts that plague my mind, out of my head.

It happened quite suddenly. In a completely different way than my first experience with love. I had met her several years before, in the midst of my struggle with the repressed emotions of my first lost love. But even in that moment of time, there was something special, something invigoratingly different  about her. Different from all the other girls, than those that I was finding interest in. She was simple, bright in her complexion, which in my opinion stemmed from her undying perception of the beauty of life. Her smile, if every light in the universe were to be expelled, I know her smile alone would illuminate all that exists. She seemed shy, but most definitely wasn't. Reserved, I guess would be more appropriate. Care free, just down right gorgeous, yet, for some reason I never made a move on her as I would with the other girls. The only move I did make was to be real with her. Just simply, to have a conversation with this angel of a being. I didn't want anything more. Not because I was scared or nervous, but because deep down I knew I was not worthy of such a woman. The person that I was at that time, would not have been fair, or mindful of such a rare beauty of a flower. And that is what she was, a flower child, I think that is how she put it one time, and it made perfect sense. I get disappointed with myself when I can not remember with certainty such things.

Our interaction was minimal. We met in psychology class and talked on maybe a total of three occasions. And, that was it. I never saw her again, and we never chatted except for a random time or two over Facebook. A quick hello, and a general catch up on life, but nothing ever sparked. Just the illuminating remembrance of a beautiful woman with a captivating smile.

It was not until years later, about three to be exact. And not until I had fully, finally, let go of the love I once knew from four years before, that my interaction with this glory of a woman sparked an undying interest in my mind. A Facebook post about dance and poetry, and a couple days later we were talking about our passions. She had just fallen in love with dance. A way to express herself, a way to tell the story of her soul. Oh, how it made her come to life. Though she lived in Tennessee and I in California, I feel her energy of emotions that she put into her new found passion. Only a year before she was wishing she could be on the stage. And sure enough, she had done it. And this was just the beginning of my exploration of her mind. To see and feel passion so raw in the context of expressing ones soul, touches me at the center of who I am. It was my writing that she wanted to use for her dance project. I felt honored. Not only did she appreciate and understand what I wrote, but, wanted to use in such a way that I knew that it was exactly what it was written for. I slowly, with guarded mindfulness began to fall in love with her. Several time I thought to myself, I should not talk to her as often as was happening. What was to come of it? Living so far apart, there is no way anything would come of it. But this is where I can not control myself, and I do not want to control myself. This feeling of wonder and amazement, she was awe inspiring. And we were just having conversations about real life. For the next few months it was texting and phone conversations of our passions, our beliefs, our introspection and how we look to better ourselves. The things she helped bring to light in myself, no one could have ever done. And vise-versa, she described it as though I was peeling back layer after layer of her own self that she was even to scared to visit on her own. The ideas that she worked through and I was able to see her through them, blew my mind. Her acceptance and at least attempt to understand what I believed had me gasping for air. For, there are not many people that I personally know that would even be able to keep up with how I see the world, I think of only two at this moment. Her grasp of a reality beyond this one had me falling harder and harder into the pit of love. Her mind, simply her mind had me craving her every word. Everything about her screamed beauty and tenderness. Her eyes, though I have not yet even to this day had the pleasure of gazing in her eyes in person. Just the mere picture of her, and a glimpse into her eyes, sent me on an emotional trip of wonder. Such soft, caring, passion raged in her beautiful blue eyes. I will never forget how they seemed to beckon to me to jump through time and space and be next to her. Just to hold her hand would have been all I needed.

I had dreams about her. One dream I waited for her, just to see her and be with her. The next day I shocked her by guessing what she had been dreaming about. But for me this seemed to make sense, since I was there in her dream. The connection with her was boundless. I know that even now it surpasses time and space. One does not go through such an emotional connection on such a level, and it have nothing to do with the eternity of your souls. I could feel her, I could sense her. Her bad days, were my bad days. Her uneasiness in a situation I could feel inside of me. So much raw energy, so much synchronicity in who we were. It was the fate of time and space, it was the stars aligning to bring us together. I was certain of this. And in many ways, I still believe and know that I am right.

I realize now that there is not much more I can say about her. It was only a few months of deep conversations and funny bantering, late into the night, that drew me into the depths of her lovely demise. You may say, you only talked for a few months, you were not in love. Then I say to you, you do not understand the love that I seek, and the love that I know I feel. You see, for me it is a choice of feeling and a feeling of choice. The feeling comes and I make the choice, the choice comes and I fall into the feeling. They play hand in hand. This is why it will wreck me to my core when I lose at this game of love. For at the time of expressing how I feel, I have come to realize that I have already made the choice. And when it comes to making the choice, I realize that I have already fallen in love. I do not fall in love, and then make a choice. Likewise I do not make a choice and then fall in love. I simply love passionately with my entire being, because I choose to.

Had I known what was to follow I may have done things differently, I may have done them exactly as I did. Sometimes I want to scream, and sometimes I would like to run, and not stop until I fall flat on my face in the misery of my heartache.

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