The Leaning Tower

I think about you every day and how much of an impact meeting you has had on my life. You’re kindness, generosity, compassion, thoughtfulness…your smile. For people like me who struggle to smile, struggle to see the good in things, having met someone like you is like being given the chance to see again. You give me your eyes, your ears, and your heart all out of the warmth of your love, and I hold it like a blanket.

I am not one to speak much, often I’m found kept to myself. You’ve found a way to reach down my throat and turn on my voice, and reach further, and fix my heart. I’ve feared rejection my entire life until now. You have shown me what it is to have best friend, have one person to give all your love and devotion to, and I give you my full trust to you. 

Let your tower fall. I’ve got you. Just like you have me. You’ve done so many things to help me stand on my own two feet again, and you have brought out the me in myself that has never been shown before until now. You mean the world to me. You are everything. A life, a best friend, and a love that I will never trade for anything.

Thank you for all you have done for me. I love you every day.

@1 day ago

Change of Scene.

Prelude: How do you open your mouth when you’ve kept it shut 99.99% of your life? How do you break independence what that’s how you’ve habituated your life? How do you break yourself down enough to give in to help? Why am I so scared? So stubborn?

Perfection. Rejection. Anxiety.

Scene I: The infliction has fallen at my ankles and bites like a cuff-linked to an anchor. I’ve been trying to run so long but I feel weary. I open my mouth. The salt of my tears leaves my words dried up, speechless toward what I’ve just done. I’ve spoken. I’ve said what I needed to say without drawing my sword of silent tongue; I have not thrown my guard up in defense, and I feel I’ve been slain. Independence has lost the battle to another force. It’s time to speak up now, little one. Don’t bite your tongue. Someone is bound to hold your hand through the quicksand of mental vertigo.

This is hoped to begin a new and exciting chapter following a challenging and dreary Act I. Blackout. Fade in.

Scene I of Act II has begun.

@2 days ago
It was like Willy Wonka, although it was real. Gumdrop doorknobs and licorice railings, graham cracker doors, long wooden bookshelf-drawer-like spiral staircases into the sky. We were sitting in class. It looked like we had Einstein for a teacher. There is a loud noise. Fiery. People are screaming, running down the hallway. My peers immediately evacuate to follow the riot up thousands of stairs. Thousands of drawer-like stairs towards the roof of this mystical candy-land mansion for a school.  The crowd pours onto the roof behind a baracade of SWAT men trying to negotiate with some peers. I knew these peers. Not from the dream, but from my own real-life high school. They were drinking Bud Lights and celebrating the Yankees World Series win. This would be typical if I weren’t dreaming. The SWAT team charged at random with baseball bats. One went straight to a girl, Jessie, and started beating her in the arm. She crippled, clutching her arm in pain as he begin striking her with a baseball bat to the back of the head. I saw Dan. He was cornered onto the top of the roof ledge and threw his beer over, threw his hands up. You could see pure fear in his eyes. It only took one swing and the baseball bat broke the face off of his neck. Blood, now a crimson strawberry puree across the building top. People kneeled down to taste the puddles. I start to panic. I turn to run. My feet are moving too fast for my head. A few people, more people, then the entire crowd of people start turning to follow. The SWAT team stopped beating the kids with baseball bats. Stopped dead in their tracks. They turned their heads to see the crowd files down the bookshelf staircase. They grin and charge after us. I’m running. Running as fast as I can down the staircase. I open a classroom door and slam it shut, locking it behind me. I crawl under the teachers desk. I try to catch my breath. I don’t understand what’s going on. The phone on top of the desk rings. It is Josh. I am no longer sleeping. But I’m panicking. What the fuck just happened?

It was like Willy Wonka, although it was real. Gumdrop doorknobs and licorice railings, graham cracker doors, long wooden bookshelf-drawer-like spiral staircases into the sky.

We were sitting in class. It looked like we had Einstein for a teacher. There is a loud noise. Fiery. People are screaming, running down the hallway. My peers immediately evacuate to follow the riot up thousands of stairs. Thousands of drawer-like stairs towards the roof of this mystical candy-land mansion for a school.  The crowd pours onto the roof behind a baracade of SWAT men trying to negotiate with some peers. I knew these peers. Not from the dream, but from my own real-life high school. They were drinking Bud Lights and celebrating the Yankees World Series win. This would be typical if I weren’t dreaming.

The SWAT team charged at random with baseball bats. One went straight to a girl, Jessie, and started beating her in the arm. She crippled, clutching her arm in pain as he begin striking her with a baseball bat to the back of the head. I saw Dan. He was cornered onto the top of the roof ledge and threw his beer over, threw his hands up. You could see pure fear in his eyes. It only took one swing and the baseball bat broke the face off of his neck. Blood, now a crimson strawberry puree across the building top. People kneeled down to taste the puddles.

I start to panic. I turn to run. My feet are moving too fast for my head. A few people, more people, then the entire crowd of people start turning to follow. The SWAT team stopped beating the kids with baseball bats. Stopped dead in their tracks. They turned their heads to see the crowd files down the bookshelf staircase. They grin and charge after us.

I’m running. Running as fast as I can down the staircase. I open a classroom door and slam it shut, locking it behind me. I crawl under the teachers desk. I try to catch my breath. I don’t understand what’s going on. The phone on top of the desk rings.

It is Josh. I am no longer sleeping. But I’m panicking. What the fuck just happened?

@2 days ago