In Reverence To Me.

I see this part of you that is falling apart.

Having a tough time accepting these tough truths, did I ever even love you.

How is it that we can move through this world neglecting the thing that is moving us through it.

I am really having a tough time with this. Because a part of me says, go be with them because it’s what you should do, but I just want to be alone, to go inside where I can hold myself in my own cries. To be out there is to push myself somewhere I don’t want to be for the sake of fitting in, for doing what I’m expected to do. But sometimes I just want to be here alone, in my own company, where I can caress myself and soothe myself through the cries in the safe inner space that feels like home.

Sometimes I just need to cry. I don’t have to know why, it just feels good to cry. And to be alone.

Is there something so wrong with being alone? Why do people question my happiness? Why can people not tell that I am genuinely happy here?

Because it’s not their responsibility to tell, to read the room.

That one falls on me.

Holding myself through the cries. I come to my room to be alone, and I hold myself here. In the space when no one else could. Comforted by something that holds my pain and tells me it’s okay to feel what I feel. It tells me I am okay to feel this deep pain, because they are here to stroke my hair.

It doesn’t feel so big. I am grateful for this force that helps me move.

Sometimes I wonder if the people who feel this way will come join my party. Because it’s been a once in a blue moon that they come, and I miss them. Why can’t we be together all of the time. It’s like I’m suffocating, groaning, can’t get a breath in when I’m not with them. Where’s the substance.

I just want to go deeper yet we keep it surface here.

What am I doing wrong. I see myself in all of them, scared to say that I don’t want to be here because then I would be selfish and unable to find the greatness in each place. But I am allowed to say that this isn’t my place.

I always come down to this place of feeling like I stick out like a sore thumb. It’s so bittersweet because a part of me loves that, that I don’t fit in with the people.

Another part of me feels incredibly alienated. How do they not get it? How do I not get it? How do I not get how to fit in? How do I not get how to be just like everything else? How do I not get it? Am I just stupid that it doesn’t work for me, that conversation that lives on the surface actually exhausts me, drains me. I zone out.

Or am I just hiding myself which in turn doesn’t pull these depths out of other people?

But what if I’m too intense. What if they don’t notice. So I hide away.

Locking myself in a castle. I sit, waiting. How can I save myself?

Already asking how I can break free when I’m not just letting myself be. It’s harder to be in it, to accept it. A part of me doesn’t want to. But there’s something deeper that loves this so much about myself. A part asking what to do. Another one saying just be you.

Where am I not being myself, this part asks. What is the action step I need to take in order to be myself.

It’s a weird question, asking how to be ourself. Being ourself is effortless, natural. It’s sitting at the dinner and crying over the pizza because you can’t eat it without breaking down. It’s not feeding into someone else’s sense of security and telling them you’ll stay when you might be going. It’s putting things out how you want to put them in, outside of the noise of what people tell you ‘works’. It might work, but it won’t work for me if it’s not an extension of my heart.

This is all I have ever wanted to do, cry in front of people. Because it hurts so much to hold in our cries in front of people when all we want to do is burst at the seams. I don’t need to cry in front of you so that you’ll comfort me, I cry in front of you so that you know how I feel. You see how I feel. And you let that move something in you. It doesn’t matter how it looks. Crying the cries of a thousand little ones who never got to shed their tears. Tears transformed into bricks, building a brick wall around the heart. So lonely and cold, god forbid it gets knocked down. Like pounding against the door, trying to push the door in well all I want to do is keep it out. It’s terrifying. Why do you do that to me. Can you not just honour my privacy, my need to just be. How many times can a boundary be crossed. I just want to scream. It’s exhausting. Yet even here still, I feel my army of love building protection around me, feigning off the heaviness. It’s strong but I know I’m stronger. You don’t have to get it. You never had to get it. I don’t have to dumb myself down so that people get it. Because the people that get it, get it. I’m so fucking glad they get it. I never had to bring my world down to theirs. I never had to cross over to their bridge. Who knew that I could stay cozy in mine. The place where music is the undercurrent and depth is the backdrop. Sinking deeper and deeper, and still deeper I want to go. I don’t want to stop going deeper. I don’t have to stop. Because if the mission is reclaiming the parts of myself that got left behind, I will go to the depths of this earth, of this existence, to bring them back. I don’t have to wait for them. It is by moving that they come. Invoking the little ones back to me. A sacred journey. With deep, DEEP reverence. We bow down to one another, we know. I am so grateful for this knowing, for this resonance. Existing in the same space. It just is.

Thank God, it just is. It feels good, to be ‘just is’.

I know myself best. And I know I don’t have to be around them if I don’t want to be around them. I know I can be alone if I want to be alone. This pressure of expectation releases its hold on me. I just sink in, floating, softly.

Always come back to the music.

M

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