Worth The Lesson

I am all about the lessons aren't I?  Aren't I always talking about the experience of it all?  Well here's something else I learned... One (I) has to go through the shit (experience) in order to learn. And let me tell you what... I am exhausted from the experience (shit).

How, I would like to know, and I am in day three of asking myself, did it take me thirty seven years to learn the amount of self value and sacredness of my body and soul that I have recently discovered?  How did it take me my whole life to understand just how precious moments are and what I have taken for granted thus far?  How I have I mocked intimate moments and thrown them aside as untreasured?  

So, here's the point of moving forward for me.  Going forward I know my value.  Going forward, I know my worth, and I am not ashamed of it.  I will not see my sacred nature and fragile soul be ridiculed by lies, deceit, motives and agendas.  I will not be self absorbed if I do not give of myself all the parts I hold sacred. 

I went through the shit... and from it, I know, I am worth the lesson.  

Morning's Reality

I awoke from a dream laced together with the hidden escapes of my mind, buttoned up with the pleasures of gentle love, only to be struck by the cold confines of a lonely reality that prompted me to pull the heavy covers over my head, and hide for some time to let the sadness pass.  A cruel gesture to a fragile soul searching only for something real.

On this noted day of Gratitude, let today be the day I stop being haunted by ghosts of yesterday, and tomorrow be a day filled with new opportunities, laughter, and love. (and let every tomorrow be the day I allow it all to happen ♥). 

(*except when you don't...*)

What If And Then What

"Did I hurt you?"

"I won't say that you didn't, but I am a big girl. It's okay."

....

What if... what if, this one time, she said "No.  No, I am not okay."

Then what?  And what if that was your chance (perhaps to use the word "sorry")?  And what if you didn't get another one?  What if tomorrow your chance was gone?  Then what?

...

Isn't life just too fast and too short to wonder?  Because what if, and then what? 

In just one blink...

I Just Wanted The Dance

It comes in waves, it seems - this emotional ebb and flow of emotion.  Days of good, days of confusion, moments of absolute light and dark; this illusive forward movement that seems like a backwards waltz with two left feet.

And just when you think you've finally found a rhythm, someone comes along and changes the song.

And all I wanted to do was dance.

Dear Mr. Sparks

Dear Nicholas Sparks, 

My exasperated sense of reality has prompted me, no, begged me, to reach out to you - and smack you right in your lying, dream state, romantic fantasied face.  And, I must tell you, in all honesty lately, that I despise you.  

You, Mr. Sparks, have painted pictures of impossible meetings, of disillusioned "love" and ridiculous states of romantic fantasy.  Your Sunday bubble gum movies, although heart warming, are stitched together in a flawed reality found only in the dreams of lonely girls.  You, sir, are a sadist. 

I don't find you fallible of a good story.  I am, very simply, a realist.  Life just doesn't work out like your Hallmark marked moments of magic that spark life's great romances.  A real love is not held in brief meetings, secrets or dramatic rescues.   Real love, Nicholas (can I call you Nicholas? Of course I can...), is held in those quiet moments of holding hands, of knowing exactly the color of "your person's" eyes - every single blue/green/brown fleck.  It is found in laughter of stories, and in understanding of hurt.  It is wanting to have one person fit with you for the end of time.  It is loving someone after an argument, through the anger, and despite the tears.  It's in that crease in someone's face when you gently lay your hand on it and feel the warmth on your palm.  Your romance will never compare to the way he watches her across a room when she doesn't even know he is there, or the way she reached for his hand just to make sure he didn't leave.  

People don't stumble into each other and find what they weren't looking for in the first place.  It doesn't happen.  Not in reality.  And from every girl that has watched your stories unfold, holding hope of magical moments that create and instant unattainable love, I beg you to stop it.  If you want to entertain my heart, show it truth and spare me the pain of your intangible "love".  

You see, Mr. Sparks, I may be a realist, but I am one with great optimism in my soul.  And if by chance I find that love, may it be filled with children, cupcakes, leaps of faith, mended hearts, and imperfection.  Write me a story about a once broken girl and a once broken boy who simply found their way through the mud of it all.  Write me a story that didn't start easy.  Write it full of lessons, and hurt pride. Throw in some anger, some friendly villains, and don't forget the apologies.  And, just for my own optimism, throw in someone who doesn't leave. 

So, while those other girls swoon in their wait of the perfect romance, I will sit patiently, and wait for something real - my own Safe Haven.  He won't be perfect, and neither will I, and that will be perfectly okay.  And I guarantee, it just might turn out to be a best seller. 

Auspiciously yours,

J

Expectedly Disappointed

When one has no expectations, the allowance for disappointment is relatively low. 

It's too bad I expect so much from people, isn't it?  

Here's to the wishes that remain. 

Leave Through The Window

I am the Queen of second chances.  Everyone who is close to my heart knows that.   I give people the benefit of the doubt to be good over and over.  I let people learn - or hold the hope they do; and I open a long since closed door, and I let people in.  Over and over.

My heart learned a valuable lesson in the recent past; sometimes, when there's a knock at the door, turn the deadbolt, and leave through the nearest window.  Sometimes you have to walk away in order to move forward.

Learn the lesson, listen to your gut, and dammit, leave through the window.