Colors of Reality
There are days when I just don’t what’s going on.
What’s going on internally.
The reds and the oranges and the colors that I just can’t depict.
Because I cannot even figure out my own emotions.
Luckily the purples and the blues aren’t there anymore.
My beaten days are over.
It’s the reds and oranges now.
I’m hormonal. I’m only 30.
I’m seeing that these emotions were what took over these years of relationships with my own self that made me freer in the long run.
These emotions made me real.
These emotions made me whole.
They grounded me.
They found solace and they eventually found love.
They found a melting ice queen.
A broken melting mess.
They found love that I never thought I deserved because my first love traumatized me.
But the reality is…
Life feels like it’s choking you sometimes but it can also draw parallels.
Parallels and confusion when he’s strangling you.
What is life if it sometimes doesn’t pose itself as reality and reminds you that a best friend could have killed — the friendship, the trust … me…. and essentially my soul?
But there’s another reality too — the reality that all men are not the same.
So, then comes a soul that that gives you space.
Lets you breathe.
Appreciates your emotions and makes you feel like those bruises and heart wounds were undeserving.
He tells you nothing.
Rather, he shows you that you are everything.
He shows you that you are HIS everything.
And you realize your life has come full circle….
You just don’t know what’s going on …again….
Because the hardest part of falling in love with someone is picturing your life without them.
To the woman that messaged me 4 days ago. I have no idea why you reached out to me out of everyone. Maybe it was a sign. I haven’t had the courage to talk about this openly since it happened in 2006, so here’s to you — my much needed catalyst.
I want to thank the soul that held my hand when I shared my past and not judging my wounds or scars. I thank you for your patience and for not pitying me. For reminding me that if I can get out of a strangling situation, I’m strong. That it’s okay to talk about it, or even not talk about, and to feel weak around the ones that make me feel the strongest. You have my heart.
To my mother mainly because it’s your resilience that I’ve learned perseverance though. Because I know how hard it was for you to hear the truth recently. You are my rock. There’s no comparable love or power that is greater than the one between a mother and daughter. Thank you for having me as your daughter.