If You Want Me

I still hear his name in my prayers. I still regret the day I left. I still resent myself for not opening up and allowing him to say he was sorry for hurting me. Instead I shut him out of my life for pure happenstance. I wonder how I can recall a friendship that ended without chance of repentance. He is still the one I hold in high regard over others I treasure but do not hold dear.

He completed my needs and made me feel real and relevant. I mention this guy as a surprise to my insides that his name is one I often complain. I sit with my feet crossed and stretched out in front of me and my fingers tapping the keys of my laptop. I reminisce our friendship and offer another prayer up for patience that we will find our way back to each other.

Much love, my luv.

Symptoms

He asked me, "What are your symptoms?"

I answered with everything but the reason I wanted to give birth to his son. I have wanted to procreate with him since our first encounter below the Metrorail in a random rampant passionate expression of ourselves. We were an item but nothing serious. I checked twice if I was blessed with a chance at this happiness but both times I was letdown slowly waiting in a supermarket's restroom.

There is something else that I have not told him. It is probably the real reason I have never conceived. He tells me everything he thinks I can handle. I say very little other than "No, not yet."

There are so many secrets in my life from everyone who gains interest. I should write novels about them all individually. I thought to call the first one "still" the second one "benefactor" and the third one "chase." Unfortunately, the last name is now taken by some bounty hunter show on television. Oh, well...I'll think of something else.

An Epiphany

I have had enough of their threats of rejection. They know who they are so there is no need to define their existence. I have made a plan that involves much saving of monies, a change in cities and possibly vocations. I dream to be idle in my own personality traits that are sculpted by experience and wisdom bestowed from the God of all gods. I have wasted enough time dedicated to their version of my subsistence.

This did not come upon me without warning. Today I attended my chosen church where the word taught me the intricacies of faith. The pastor spoke of slothfulness to be counteracted with faithfulness as a way of fulfilling one's destiny. The word dealt me a steady helping of confirmation to the mission I had been given the previous evening. I was confronted by one of "them" and told of all my shortcomings. I was reminded of all the reasons I couldn't be trusted. These objections will fuel the dramatic action of my life story for the next 18 months and counting...till my time consists of fulfilling my purpose and not nursing those who have rejected my authenticity.

Peace.

It's Been 5 Years, 6 Months and 7 Days ...

...Since my father last walked the earth. I cried silently then sobbed myself to sleep last night wishing for his influence to still be in my life. This morning I woke to the feeling of completeness as though I had dreamed a solution into being. I had a slight inclination to call my Dad then realized he would not be there to answer.

I hear other fathers relate to their children in many ways. I can honestly say my father was no saint but he died knowing I love him. This is a phenomenon that is deeply rooted in my childhood. I have always had a strong sense of self or intuition. I knew when my maternal grandmother was going to die. As a child I asked her the day before she passed suddenly of a stroke, "What would you do Grandma if you died?" To that she threw her long black hair back and laughed, "Then I would just have to die then Darlin'."

A few years after my parents separated I knew my father needed to know that I loved him. I knew that this would take effort. I knew I had to make this effort to somehow complete my life. I guess my internals were warning me that I would be left with little more than memories and a slight resemblance to comfort my longing to feel fathered.

Tonight, I sit alone in my room typing this blog to remind myself someday in the future that I feel this love for my father maturing into a love for myself. Hopefully this love will graduate into a feeling I can share with others. Till then I pen my words on this page in silence.

Hope

There is a little tug at my heart-strings that says, "I can make it!" There is a simple manner I profess to always manage to muster my faith in God above, Who keeps me from utter turmoil. There is even a certain friend I keep texting in hope he someday returns the gesture and rekindles our relationship. There is hope in every fiber of my being that wakes me each day to venture out into this uncertain world to take advantage of every grace given me from my Lord and Savior. There is more to me than just my mortality.

Even this blog is set to remain after I have long expired though so few know of its existence. I circle my prey of words then pounce upon the page with every intention to make my earnest confession. I have no plan to place my picture on this familiar website but to remain shrouded in anonymity. There is no reason to reveal my appearance when my appeals are so plainly set in each entry.

My most provoked hope is to start a family in the next five years. It is my only five-year goal. This is somewhat laughable as I am without a significant other or even someone looking to qualify for this position. This does not taint my faith in the slightest. I know of many women in my predicament and none of us are depressed or defeated by our single status. Instead we wait and engage ourselves with challenges to improve our posture, nature and character. We do not think we have a handicap in being alone but rather an opportunity to capitalize on someone's interests in us. We are not swayed by popular opinion that tends toward desperation. No, we have hope in our God to bring us the equivalent of our desires morphed into a man who does not have to be perfect only a perfect fit for us in our different environments. Wish us love, light and a bit of luck.

A Wish Wasted

I wish I could have done things differently. That is a waste of a wish. Nothing in all of life makes it repeat itself for edits. I want to be happily entangled with a man worthy of wanting. My friend half-scolded yesterday and told me to ready myself first. I must be ready to find that wanting in a man. I always thought that longing would come from the opposite sex but she was right it is lodged within me. I often attract the right man in the wrong set of circumstances. This is my plight. I wish I could have undone my misstep. Surely by now a woman of my age would learn from her delusions. Still, I carry on for yet another turn around the clock with no one by my side. Better still, I am content to be alone but not forever.

So here comes the fun. I plan to go speed dating next week on the very night I see my intended. This guy has had me circling at his feet begging for another chance with us. So I am going to introduce him to my gorgeous friend who he will fall madly for and that will be the end of my intentions as far as that goes. I know nothing about speed dating except what I saw briefly in a movie once. I will only give my number to the ones I am interested in and hope for a call. There is one other sly option I might try...inviting him to go out with my friends later that night. That might be a bad idea because my friends are fabulous and there will be the gorgeous one, unattached. That whole thing might back fire but I don't want to over analyse too much.

So There's This Book ...

I am reading yet another self-help book which title will go unmentioned. It is really good so far being encouraging at all the right points and no nonsense at other points. This leads me to think of what the world would do with a book that doesn't tell them to loose weight or think positively. Instead it would hold a tale of shortcomings and mishaps that could teach the reader not to befall the same situations. In case you did not guess by now, I am writing such a book.



There has got to be a group of people out there that know what they want but not sure how to get there. They don't want to make the same mistakes their family or friends have made but what were those mistakes, exactly? I have no personal claim to fame nor do I plan on faking one for my readers. I just want to share the decisions I have made up to this point in my life that I think could help some people navigate their own paths.



There has been love and loss in my life which is enough to make a good novel. I don't want to hide my experiences behind fake names or places to save face or provide some kind of false privacy. I will tell it just as it occurred with a few edits to take out the boring years or sections full of such grief that any account of it would just be plain murderous. Lucky for me I have kept a journal most of my life so I will be transposing much of the information from there to the manuscript. Wish me luck, diligence and a dose of creativity. I'll be needing all of that and more.