Power

Love seems like a struggle. A battle between a strong(er) and a weak(er) person. So, I am in love with a girl who doesn't care about me. He's in love with me. I don't care about him. She is in love with him. He is in love with himself. We love the wrong people. We give ourselves to people who want other people. We turn down love to be somewhere else, to be with someone else.

What is the most important thing in life? Why do we praise "love" so much? What is love? Is it an action? Is it a kiss? Is it intimacy? Is it a nice conversation? Is it to give yourself completely? Is it to blend your soul with someone else's soul? Where does the need "to be with" come from? Is it instinct? Is it companionship and loyalty?

The house is quiet. I cleaned, organized, and selected things to donate. I ate, I had tea. I read my book. My hammock never seemed like a better place to be. The moon is beautiful. I longed to be. I longed to be inspired to be in love. I longed to be inspired and to be in love. To be in your arms because somehow that takes the pressure off me. It distracts me from being. When I touch you, I forget who I am. I forget this pale and fragile composition that makes me who I am. I forget that I don't really know who I am.

Everything I can see now is so vivid. Lights and sounds. I can even see the pain of leaving you. That very last day we were. I was crying for I knew it was going to be our last day together. Every purple finds a home. Like my fingers in your skin. Oh - how I waited for you. I was patient. I was this small weak creature waiting. What did you do to me? Did you put a spell on me? I was swimming - no, I was in the pool waiting for you. Being watched, desired. I was waiting for you.

I cross(ed) the street barefoot and hot, carrying my open-toe-high-heel-sexy-Chinese-esque shoes to see if that car across the street is your car. I entertain the fantasy of bumping into you. What for, I ponder. I have nothing to say. I had hoped that that night I'd see you, but then I met her. I sat with her and had a chocolate martini and a couple of laughters later I was with her, being a girl.

That same night, I've met people who are your type of people. Cool people, who are open-minded and live in cool places and have cool friends. They all say the right things, they have the best jobs, they smell like clothing stores and have phony lives. I need a mirror. I am burning inside. It hurts to be so different. She doesn't know.