“She had this capacity to love like I had never seen before. She did it without expectation, without any reassurance to her own self. She would see a stranger walking by and love them; not for a moment, but for an eternity. That’s why I had such a hard time understanding her in the beginning. In the past I had only seen people give love to get love. She was love- it existed in every fiber of her being and seeped through her pores. That my son, is why when my mind finally caught up to my heart, I ran in her direction and never looked back. To love someone- sure that’s wonderful; but to become love.. You can never lose that.”


He told me that day about not being able to have it all and I told him he was wrong, that everything was within his grasp- except for his own voice. He put his head down, as if to look at his shoes, which he was not actually doing. I remember thinking he did that a lot more nowadays, hiding his face from my prying eyes, or perhaps from the world. Even in doing that often I still found myself wondering if it was out of sadness or resistance, or even a little of both. But I knew I could not make him find his voice, he would have to discover it all on his own. The words he did not dare to speak were the very same words my ears longed to hear. We were terrified; of life, of love, of what it all could mean if we allowed ourselves to match the force life was now allotting us. In that moment I realized I was completely, head over heels, madly and totally in love with him. The words however became unutterable. I was now the one terrified to speak them, but even more scared to miss the opportunity to do so. Every time I tried, they got tied up with my tongue. Every perfect moment flying over my head, only to be acknowledged after its passing. I stopped caring though, about the idea of that kind of perfection. He was perfect, at least to me, and what more could I ask really ask for? Just to have someone that important in life was enough for me. So I decided that I would just say it; blurt it, moan it, yell it, whatever. The words needed to be released, as if they were caged birds clawing at the walls within my soul. They needed to be felt, to be heard, to float freely in the wind and absorbed wherever need be. I didn’t need to hear them back, I didn’t want any sort of validation. I would love him regardless of all that. I didn’t need for him to like it, love it, or even hate it; I just needed him to know it. To always know it, and hopefully in knowing it he would choose to carry it with him, forever.


I’m drawn to the silent sufferers, the souls you can’t see crying. The people who never put up a fight, not because they’re passive but because they no longer have it in them. They are often mistaken for heartless, emotionally-unavailable or empty; but those they are not. Their struggle is apparent in their walk, in the way their eyes drift off when something profound happens, and in moments between laughter when their hearts and brains finally sync. I’m sure I can feel their energy pulling at me from across the room, and at times even across a whole continent. Summoning, drawing, tugging at a thin line that’s slowly reeling me in.

John Ray once said that “Misery loves company.”, but maybe our usage and interpretation is all wrong. Perhaps people with sadness hidden in their hearts can only find love in those who also have it buried within theirs. In math and science, two negatives make a positive; would it really be so far outside of the realm of possibility to think that the same could ring true for hearts?

With people who are my opposites, I often find myself trying to change to reflect theirs- an action I’m sure is comforting to them as well as enlightening to myself. The similar though.. there’s no use at pretending. I am the mirror. They are the mirror. We are the same, and because of that we become one instead of a pair.

Giver Not A Taker

Once when I was young I met a little girl playing on the playground near our old house. I was just a boy at the time and took full advantage of her willingness to always say yes to everything. She would give me her snacks. She would give me her toys. She would give me the swing underneath her if I was so inclined to ask. I never stopped to think about what that little girl wanted though, partly because she just seemed so happy to give it all away. One day the girl stopped coming to the playground and suddenly I wanted to give everything to someone too. I understood, only in her absence, why she did what she did.

It is only when one is all too familiar with doing without things that they love to give more than they love to receive. She was giving what she wanted, and that was all the worlds love.

Nowadays even though I’m older and only go to the playground for my kids, I still think of that little girl. And while my children are arguing over who can ride the seesaw first, I wonder if she ever found someone who wanted to give her their everything.

Because, goddammit, it was the most amazing feeling in the world. And no one should be deprived of a love that pure.

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Lessons in Over-Analysis



Do you laugh at what you see because it is funny?

Or do you laugh at things you see simply because you do not understand?