Community

Community.

It's something people in my perceived circle long for. 

To say they crave it is a misnomer. 

It's like they would do anything short of clawing out of a 1000 meter deep hole to find it.

But then, they wouldn't. 

There are people surrounding us.

Always.

But those people are never enough.

We need different ones.

New ones.

Better ones.

Because a community can't simply be a collection of those nearest to you, with the same interests, the same desires, and the same goals.

They need to be handpicked by you.

They must fit into the carefully cut cast you dreamt of.

The one you knew must be right because it made you lose all your insecurities upon its inception.

Our hearts are wicked, people.

We mustn't forget this.

If we do, our community will always look like us.

And we will likely be lonely.

Embrace each other.

For we are all fighting a different battle which is entirely the same.

But, We Do it to Ourselves...

I often wonder how humans can live in a web of relations which are clearly debilitating. 

It’s likely credited to them not realizing the state of debilitation involved in said relations. 

Why can’t we see what we do to ourselves by allowing harmful persons to continue to grip into us? 

How do we not see abusive situations for what they are?
 Can we no longer call a rose by its proper address? 

And if that’s not enough, we lend these persons power over our entire existence. 

The lines of their webs scalded into the very skin we struggle to keep from blemish. 

Those of us brave enough to take a stand often find ourselves talking our minds into believing we are the ones at fault, the ones with the “problem.” 

While we may have a problem, our greatest issue lies in the lack of commitment to the betterment of our brothers, and in turn, ourselves.  

This leads to faltering during confrontation, apologizing for our own wrongdoings while nullifying the wrongdoing of those confronted. 

The goal should never be total nullification of one over the other but to come together, admit our own faults, and break away as one spirit.

Empowerment over debilitation.

Healing over "right"-ness.

Love over glory.

Feel.

The warmth of the water spread over me. I never knew I could feel this way. Very gently, you washed every inch of my body, taking your time, being thorough. You caressed me as you rinsed away all of the dirt. It was like you were washing away all the lies I constantly live beneath, even if it was only for that moment, in that moment. You pulled me close, and for a flutter of time, we were one. There was nothing more, nothing less, it just was. I could breath without thinking. I could stand there naked and not fear being judged. For a moment, I was breathtaking. For a moment, I was yours.

As surely as all things do, the moment passed. It was time to return to real life. As he stepped out of the shower, I sighed and let the water rinse over me just a while longer before finally following suit and climbing out of the serenity. By the time I reached him, he was already dressed and commencing his remaining hygienic tasks. I stood there, brushing my hair in a towel, watching him with a tiny smile on my face, wondering how in the world our paths crossed, almost knowing that, more than likely, it would be a brief crossing. And when he told me as we were parting that it was too much to handle being with me at the present moment, I smiled with grace and took my leave just as subtly as I’d arrived.

I understood. Far too well did I. But it still saddened me just a little. Here was this man I’d only really known for a few brief weeks, who knew so much about me and how I functioned, who wasn’t afraid of me when I cried, who didn’t think it was stupid of me to still be dealing with an issue that I feel like should be taken care of, who cared for me more sweetly and genuinely in a series of short moments than almost anyone in my life. And here he was saying goodbye.

Though the goodbye was an indefinite one, it was a goodbye. And goodbyes mean you may not ever come back. But even if he never comes back, I’ll never forget the way he made me feel. The way I was real to him. The way he took special care to assure that I knew I was worthy. The way he held me and didn’t let go. The way he wouldn’t let me hide from him (or myself). And a small part of me will always wonder what could have been or if that could ever happen to me again.