It’s funny how you have a thought. A bad thought. Days go by and you expect it to go away. So you wait for it to pass. Day by day, it doesn’t leave, instead, it goes forward into its destructive thinking. You get so caught up in the negative successors of that original bad thought. Finally, when the thought stops, when they all stop, every good thing you had is gone. Before you know it, months have passed and all of your stability, all of your happiness is gone. It’s been almost a year now and I’m still trying to pick up the pieces of the wreck I caused, getting pricked with each sharp edge I try to piece back together. My hands are so torn I don’t know if I should risk more wounds for what might be a good outcome, a great outcome. Or should I just drop everything and let my wounds heal so I can move on to what could be an okay outcome?
I wish I’d realized when I had the chance, how easy it is to be a kid and let all decisions be made for you. It’s so nice when you don’t have to decide. Deciding is the hardest part.
Even after my hardships, I don’t know if what makes me not want to pick up the pieces and rebuild is what I really feel or just more destructive thoughts trying to tear me back down. It’s hard when he is in the same boat, and I brought him onboard. The biggest mistake is to turn against each other, even if it’s just for a second. He brought me out of this after all. I was driving home from a failed job interview. I vented to him all of my frustrations over the phone on my way back home. He had given up on me by that point, but I was too selfish to realize it. During that drive home, I realized what I had taken for granted. I realized I had this beautiful person at home waiting for me. Loving me regardless of how many failures I had in my life. I miss the safety I felt that day. That day the thoughts began to die down. It was too late, but maybe not too late. He still hasn’t completely given up on me. At this point, he is still right beside me though I don’t know how long he will be there. I’m a hurricane and he is a stable Redwood, growing regardless of his surroundings, strong and tall. He is perfect. He is all I’ve ever needed. He is the love and the stability I have always sought after.
Sometimes my thoughts drive me down, but the thought of him raises me so high I’m flying. His smile, even if it’s forced, is one of the great, seven wonders of the world. A strange beauty only to be seen by the most fortunate. The warmth of his strong arms around me sets my soul at ease and nothing is wrong, nothing can ever be wrong when I am there.
I am crying, but I am happy because no matter how grateful I am, it is never enough for what he deserves.
I am destructive. I am impossible. But he stays, and I don’t understand why. He is the faithful dog that never leaves my side. He is the medicine I need to get better. And I hope that once I am better, once I am whole again, I don’t fall apart again. He is strong, but he is too good to keep picking me up and putting me together again. He can fall apart too.
I am anxious, I am bipolar, I am a storm brushing through and I have never known how to handle myself. I have still not figured out how to hide my storms from the world. I pray he learns my weather and chooses to dance in the rain. Storms pass, true love stays. Storms do not always find companions. They often tremble over empty land with all that is near running from the fury, not knowing that the fury is love the storm does not know how to express. Misplaced, misrepresented love. I have been hurt and as a result, I hurt others because it is all I know, but I am learning.
He does not believe in God, but I have seen him through my own storms. And I have prayed that he bring me a durable man, a brave man. For a long time, I gave God details, one by one, of the man that I needed him to create, for my sanity, for my own survival. And one day, I stumbled upon his creation, into the arms of the one that would love me regardless of my stubborn monsoon of an attitude that comes and goes. I have not chosen this setup, it was given to me. None of us foresee our future, but before we know it, it is here and we must deal with it, day by day until we have conquered it.
It is hard to believe that we are here and that is some strange coincidence. It is far too intimidating to believe that when we die that is it, that is all. Something that comes with being suicidal, the main thing that defines it is the inability to imagine a future. People that choose to take their own lives cannot see tomorrow and what may happen, what they wish to happen. This is why so many people are so afraid of dying, they can’t stop imagining a future, even if it is beyond the grave. So I guess I will go with that. I find it uncomforting to think that nothing will continue beyond this life. So even if it is not the truth, I chose to go on. I chose to be a stupid fool, full of a fake future and happiness, then be a depressed realist, sinking in the inevitable end.
So maybe this is another characteristic that makes him brave. He is fearless, he can face the future much stronger than I can. He can accept that the there is an end to all things. He can be strong and know that nothing will continue. He can know the truth and not break apart into a million pieces. He is strong and can withstand a hurricane like me. Or even love a hurricane like me. He is not a storm, he is the sun that constantly shines.