i dreamt i saw you walking
up a hillside in the snow
casting shadows on the winter sky
as you stood there counting crows
one for sorrow, two for joy,
three for girls, and four for boys,
five for silver, six for gold, and
seven for a secret never to be told

there's a bird that nests inside you
sleeping underneath your skin
when you open up your wings to speak
i wish you'd let me in

from "a murder of one" ~ counting crows
"Categories... such as... names of... superheroes!"

i am not defined by what i have done, who i have been, what has been done to me or really anything historical. many of my decisions can be explained using my experiences. this is not unnatural and is a completely normal - one might even call it Pavlovian - reaction to stimuli. reach into a campfire, get burned. date a jerk, get burned. fall asleep nude in the sun, get burned. eventually, you get tired of the burn. you begin to do things that don't involve the burn. eventually, you make choices that prevent the burn.

looking behind me and seeing where i came from, how far i have traveled and how much i have changed is not something i do often. it usually happens every 7 years or so, but that again is a cycle, of sorts. while most cells in the body are "ephemeral" or fast growing, constantly replacing, others are slow regenerating every 7 - 10 years (some never do get replaced). for the most part you are a relatively new person every 7 years. it is somewhat instructional to look back at all the sloughed skins and outdated ideals you have abandoned behind you to get where you are.

strangely, it was not my decision to look back at this time but rather the return of several key people that meant so much to me in the past. last night i stayed up entirely too late talking to the first man i ever loved. i still feel the same way about him today as i remember feeling the first time i laid eyes on him at about 15. my opinion and my choices may have altered over the intervening years, but the butterflies are just as twitchy today was they were all those years ago.

it is little to no consolation that he is just as drawn to me to this day as he was when we were teenagers, unable to leave each other alone. knowing every precious moment with him was stolen from another i am unable to trust him to be change. i am no longer willing to live on scraps and i am unable to be the one waiting at home for him to return.
acceptance and love do not equal abasement and delusion.

i have listened to the devil's advocates and my decision stands firm. i have rolled this around in my head for a day only to find that it has been stalking the back alleys on my mind for years. i have upheld my stance despite the assurance that there will be some regret, likely for the rest of my life. The whole thing reminds me of something i read a long time ago:

"Just because you love someone doesn't mean you have to be involved with them. Love is not a bandage to cover wounds." - Hugh Elliott 'Standing Room Only' weblog

0 butterflies have escaped

confessed on Friday, Apr. 20, 2012