So. I have no idea where this came from, but here it is. I guess this would be a stream of conscious post. Anyway, enjoy.
Some days, it's easy to get up from bed to begin my day.
Some days, it's fucking torture.
And yet, I still open my eyes, just to know that everything around me is still here.
I stopped counting days since she left me; now, I'm just numb to it.
She wanted the breakup. Claimed she couldn't handle me. Me and my passions, many of which she shared with me.
I sat in my car, listening to her detached voice tell me repeatedly that she still thought I was a swell guy.
Swell guy? I thought. Who the fuck says shit like that?
I just want you to know that I still want to be your friend, she told me, all the while probably wondering when the phone conversation would end. When I would finally dissolve from her life so that she could resume hers without the pressure of being truly loved.
I swallowed, sighed, then said good-bye, only to cry like a child when the phone went dead.
That was . . . shit, I still can't remember. Perhaps it's better this way.
Suddenly, when I don't expect it, a face. Eyes staring at mine with a smile to brighten them.
She told me her name was Julia. I believed her.
When I told her about my life over cups of darjeeling tea, she crinkled her nose.
Dear gods, she said, I thought I was the only one.
Only one what?
The only one who wanted more from Life than what was handed to me, like a checklist used over and over again. I want to breathe in my own way. Know what I mean?
She's not afraid of me, of what I represent.
She wants what I want, sees what I see without fear.
Support from within, of her own design.
David, she tells me one night over pasta and wine, can you love me?
Can you look at me and love me?
I embrace her; no words are needed. She holds me. ME. Her brown skinned hands touching my heart, probing deeper inside of me, letting me know that it's okay for my heart to beat again.
I twine my pale hands with hers and love her.
Two free spirits, bohemian, laced with chamomile, hushed secrets, and love that is colour blind.
She will love me, as I have done in a lifetime before.
(all photographs by Kimberly B. Richardson)