I show my affection and love with action. The time I spend with someone, the sacrifices that I make and the dedication I throw at their passions and projects. The late night discussions, objective advice and unwavering commitment no matter their situation or mistake. This is how I show how much I care, adore and love someone.
I've never been one to read up on the meanings of love languages or what this week's definition of 'love' is in Cosmo. I held on to the idea that those don't matter. The simple idea that I could just pour my heart into someone and, while they may not feel entirely the same way, they would be considerate of my emotions; valuing and respecting at least the friendship that has developed.
This isn't just in regards to my romantic life. It extends into my professional and family life as well. I have been told that I am misunderstood and people don't know how to take me. Why can't I be afforded the chance to be understood? Why can't someone give me the same time and dedication that I extended to them to simply, understand?
Which is why I don't talk about my feelings very much. It's difficult for me. My past has been peppered with failed attempts and heart wrenching silences. Each time I lay out my emotions, I am shut out. Left feeling used and taken advantage of. Everything I did, every hour I spent; wasted. Thrown away like a cheap, one-use razor.
This has made putting myself out there almost impossible. Each time I am dismissed, another layer of brick is laid on the wall protecting my heart. The requirement to open the door is heightened.
I try to remain positive. I want nothing more than to remain open and love without regret, but it's just not possible. Each time I am used and disrespected; more work is added for the next one to come along. It's human nature; my defense mechanism to keep myself from running dry.
It's hard. It sucks. I don't see any resolve.
I hold on to the fact that one day the world will be pure again and hearts will no longer be hardened. One will not make decisions based on fear; the fear of hurt or the fear of what we do not understand.
Thoughts
Don't Mind What I Say, It's Merely an Act that I Play
I sit here by the fire, finishing out my evening with some fine single malt scotch. In my solitude and reflection, I attempt to rein in my thoughts from the past few months. I try to pinpoint one topic to write about. That is hard. My mind is usually racing with observations and questions, never quite resting long enough for me to gather them as my mind runs through thought after thought.
I enjoy a good fire. Small and quaint or large and boisterous, there is something calming about a good burn. Sitting outside, feeling the dew creep through your pants; the outdoors seem like home. The various noises that fill the night air are my therapy while I process the day. It's just me and nature. No pain, no suffering, the absence of hurt and despair. A sacred place where I can come to renew my spirit to take on another day.
It honestly sucks being so aware. I ask God daily why I have been burdened with a view into the hearts of others. Both strangers and friends, I can feel the pain from a simple glance. Sometimes it literally hits me like a brick, causing me to take a step back and fall emotionally crippled. There is nothing I can do, nothing I can say to take away the pain. This curse of seeing those things in which I cannot change takes much courage to bear. A courage that seems to escape me each day.
So I put on an act. Play the part that one wants me to be. Create laughter and joy, causing them to forget their pain. This is my place, my role in this moment. It used to frustrate me, but I have learned to accept it. Don't let the sarcasm and smirk fool you, there is so much more happening underneath.
Find me by a fire,
with some fine Irish whiskey.
Beneath the stars
and a little damp from the dew.
There I will be content,
having finished the day's play.
Only then,
should you truly listen,
to the words that I say.