Finding The Poem For My Moment

Photo taken by Victor Vidigal

Today I felt hopelessness while simultaneously feeling gratitude. I felt grateful that I was aware of how temporary this hopelessness was; grateful for not identifying myself with it. For having a life where I had space to feel this and reflect on it rather than living a life where I only had space to think of survival. I felt grateful for the community, the health, the reflections and the lessons that continuously came my way.

And yea, like I said… I also felt hopeless. Weird to feel both at the same time and hard to explain how I did.

I came to a point where I began to observe the root of which my hopelessness was coming from. I then picked up an old notebook to scribble down some thoughts and instead, I found this…

Choosing to Be Broken

Hopeless romantics are not born hopeless nor romantic.
Rather, we are all born addictive; addicted.
Our brains all uniquely shifted.
Whether it be positive or negative,
Beings all have some sort of craved fixation.
Some intensified sense of comfort and appreciation.
So a hopeless romantic may have been born addicted to affection,
Or maybe born with a keen view of romantic perception.
Rather than bask in this skill of sensitivity,
They put the word “less” after hope and think less of their longevity.
Their longevity which feeds them time and space.
And with time and space comes the simplicity of change
And the complexity of ambiguous attachments.
The ambiguity of such attachments scare some
And attract some.
For those who have self labeled themselves as hopeless romantics,
They don’t allow such ambiguity to naturally come.
They fear it and fear the complexity of the heart.
Photo taken by Victor Vidigal
They simply wish to meet an angel,
And to never grow apart.
They crush the idea of lusting and loving themselves.
Rather they find a body with a heart, lips and private parts
And smear this poisonous, luscious love on to that something else.
They continuously rephrase the quite literal things that person may say.
They rephrase the words and absorb them with such a fantasy of everlasting depth.
And those same literal words that they are fed in the present are unkept.
Those who respond lightly and literally, give no answers to their future of romantic longings.
So they alter what their fantasies can,
And irrationally have their hearts crave the wrong things.
Because hopeless romantics wish to know right there and right now,
Whether such “love” will work in the future and how.
They walk with the idea that this someone is their insanely adored something.
Like a crippled hawk craving the support of its wings.
Yet this pain which they endure is selfishly chosen.
Whereas the hawk never chose to have his wings broken.

I wrote this poem four years ago. Although I wrote it after feeling heartbreak, I believe it can be applied to many more experiences/sensations.

Photo taken by Victor Vidigal

We have the choice to attach ourselves to fear, hopelessness and angst. And we have the choice to let go of it all.


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