Swirling, Moving Emotions

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     A Blank Page before me, a head full of thoughts.  

     Nothing written in ages, so many things to write. 

     I am a person who feels. The other evening my cat needed to take a pill. My mother asked me to put it in as she held him. I, a 19-year-old woman, did my best couple attempts. He mewled quite pitifully and my heart burst, and tears came forth. 

     Once when I was maybe 7 or 9, some age not currently mine. My mum and I went through my room and cleaned out things that were broken, unused, unheeded. I threw away a broken heart shaped music box. It locked, it sang, it was from a friend, and it was broken. We threw it away. Sometime, a couple weeks later, I was caught in a frenzy of searching. It may have been late. All I know is the moon was up when my father came into my room to find his daughter rummaging through her room, with a tear-stained face. I cried my heart out over that box. I sobbed into my father's chest over that box. I don't even remember who it was from... Nor my age... Or details. It was broken and I cried for it's loss.

     I felt. 

     With my 19-year-old tears, in mind, over a cat who's sick and doesn't want his medicine. 

     With my 7 or 9-year-old tears over a broken plastic box, in mind. 

     Let's think of lately. 

     About a year ago I got out of my first serious relationship, with an emotionally abusive boyfriend. I have dated a Marine who was lovely, but broken and hurting. I have watched someone, who irks my feminist and human leanings, become president of the U.S. All this while I traveled along a path of faith. A path leading from confusion, in regards to the church I loved, to hurt... to helplessness... to a changing. 

     I have held silence. Because I feel so very much and this past year has been so very hard. I feel insecure in my feelings. I know so many people have it worse. So, who am I to speak of my feelings? Of my hurt? I want to speak to the pain of the world. But all to often I speak of the pain of my world. The world I am oh so much more familiar with. 

    But silence is not my answer. Poetry has been my leaning. Writing is just an extension of my being. So I'm going to try and forget myself, my insecurity, my uncertainty... the me. 

    I simply want to write and give into the swirling, moving emotions that are to be. 

To Feel My Love

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You say

My cheeks

Are beautiful

These ones

I contour

And hate

Trace my jawline

With your kisses

Hold my hips

Breathe my air

Hold me

Like poetry

Love me

Like warmth

You are the first

I can see forever

Despite the chasm

Of unknown

I'm afraid of falling

But it almost

Looks appealing

And my heart is breaking

But my breath is leaving

Oh Gosh

These feels

Poem 234

Heart in Hand

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Talking with a friend, we found ourselves discussing the state of his relationship with his girlfriend.  As we spoke he stated, "I just feel like I just keep giving my heart, but it isn't being accepted. Obviously it is, since she and I are dating... But it's like I am giving my everything, and they aren't appreciating it."  The response I gave him was one that I have found all too often to be true.  With friends and people I truly trust I have encountered the following.

    You extend your hands, offering up your heart, and the other person looks at it.  They see it, and they say they like "that part" and "this part."  You offer them the whole of your heart, and they simply like or love parts.  So, they accept the whole thing.  But they are truly only accepting certain parts and pieces of you.  It hurts because you want them to take it... but really you want them to look at your offering and for them to look up into your eyes and say "I love it. I love all of it. Thank you!"

    At the time I wasn't dating anyone, so I felt this conversation was more for my friend’s benefit.  However, as I thought more about it I realized... I am both the offerer and the person who says, "I like this part."  I offer my heart to myself, and my whole life I have never looked into my eyes.  I have looked at the heart and told myself that I only like pieces.  I like when I produce a good poem.  I love when I manage to make someone smile.  But, I have never looked over my whole heart, looked into myself, and said, "I realize your humanity, and that you are weak like all others are at times. Yet, I love you.  I will love the whole of you."

    I am my own hurt.  Everyday I cannot help but have my heart in sight of my own judgment.  And every day I judge.  I don't think I am the worst of people, but I sometimes say things to myself that I would never tell anyone else.  Why?  I can look at others and give them the benefit of the doubt.  But I know myself, and thus I don't give myself that benefit.

    Maybe the key, however, is to look at the whole of my heart and realize, I am trying.  My hands offer up.  I wish to accept.  I want to love myself.  For to love is to respect, trust, and be comfortable with.  To feel at peace is a part of loving yourself.

     I offer myself my heart.  In my hands it has lain for years.  The faults and the strengths wishing to be equally understood and seen.  And I see them.  I see it, and I love it.  I love all of it.  I wish to help myself to become stronger.  But, I will lead kindly and I will learn to love more fully.  For peace in my own head and skin... that is the beginning of all I want.

Lessons Learned from Dating

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     In every culture there is a different way of going about dating.  Some date one boy in particular and give him everything, others go out with many people and treat it as simply a way to become better friends.  Whatever you do, and how you go about it... I think you learn lessons from dating.  Over the last bit that I have been allowed to date (16 is when people in my religion may begin to date), I have treated it several different ways.  

     There are the friends who I have asked out on group dates, in order to just get to know them better.  There are the boys who I have liked and called "boyfriend."  Their are boys who I have adored and sorta gone out with, but we never called it anything.  All of these boys, however we defined our dates, were a risk of the heart I hold.  Not necessarily were they an opportunity for my heart to be broken, or hurt.  But they all were an opportunity to have my heart changed.  

     Every person you meet in this world has an opportunity to change you somehow. Maybe just a little. But they have the opportunity to change you in some degree. The closer we let people, the more opportunity they have to change us, to influence us. And to go on a date is the step up from hanging out.  Thus, it makes sense that people we go on dates, or a date, with would have more opportunity to shape us as a person.  

     The heart starts out ours, and slowly it changes.  It grows.  Family, friends, crushes, acquaintances, bullies.  They all tie in making us who we are.  Some introduce us to sushi.  A few to snub remarks about hair.  Others show us Folk Music.  Many introduce pieces of us, that weren't but now are.  Dating is... something where we say we are willing to open ourselves up to someone.  We will allow those people to influence us somehow.  We are open to it.  We embrace it to some extent.  

     The healing of a long hug; the pain of being ignored; the finding that you like theater popcorn; figuring out you cannot stand super strong cologne; that you enjoy being asked if your comfortable; that you like boys who laugh at things you say; that you don't like boys who never make their own jokes; the building up of your confidence in a talent; or the weakening of one of your aspirations.  These are things you can learn from dating, and which shape who you are.  Done casually or seriously, dating is an opportunity to let things be added to your knowledge, and to your heart. 

     The heart is a pieced together thing.  Always changing.  Growing, shrinking, hurting, reaching.  Dating is often fun, and should be enjoyable.  The important thing is to remember, however you go about it... be wise as to whom you welcome, and open your heart to.  We cannot exactly choose who we have feelings for.  But we can keep such feelings from turning into love.  We can choose who we will invite to touch our soul, our heart, our mind.  The lessons I have learned are many.  But this one encompasses them all: Go wisely, for the hearts sake.