Point of it all

What is the point of it all when it comes to it? What is the purpose of life? The meaning of it? Why are we here? What is it we are meant to do?

Those questions are as old as humanity, and yet, we've not found the answer to it. Some people seem to have found an answer, seem to have found that purpose, that meaning with it all. And yet, they can't tell you what it is, they can't give you the answer. It's an answer only you can find.

Isn't it frustrating? I find it so. I sit here and think that there must be more to it all. That there must be more meaning to my life than trying to get a job, trying to support myself and taking care of my daughter.

Yeah, of course, raising a child is important. But I am more than that. I am more than a mother. I just don't know what. I don't know what that more is I'm looking for.

For I'm looking. I'm searching for that meaning with life. That thing that makes the difference to me. The thing that'll make me jump out of bed in the morning and think that this is a wonderful day and that it's important and I have things to do that has meaning and purpose and reason.

I don't know where to find it. My inner self seems like a murky place where light can't penetrate, where there's no signs showing me the way.

There must be more to things. There just must be. If not, it's all way too depressive.

I need more.

Afterthought

Sitting here with a feeling. Strange thoughts overcoming me, going through my brain but not really registering. What is this when it comes to it?

What happened that made this day different from the other days, what was it that changed the energy around me, something new, and yet so old. Returning to old haunts, but in a new way.

Is this what would be called to break free and let go of the past? Or is it merely a natural step that had to happen no matter what? Is it accepting that some things will never happen and it is time to move on?

I don't know, it's impossible to tell. Logically it feels right. But my heart broke, or perhaps I just poured more salt into that wound. The wound of impossibilities and dreams, of what can never be, of a hope that is lost.

Am I a fool or am I wise?

It's not possible to say, is it? Only time will tell. And even when you wait out the time, you can never know what would have happened had things been done differently, if something else had been the case, another step taken, a new location.

But I will never know. I will never know if I did things in foolishness or right.

Ah, the wonderful curse of life. We do never truly know what is right or wrong. Not when it comes to reaching our dreams and finding them.

My thoughts are of you, they will always be. My heart is with you, it always will be. But I think the pain is less now. At least for today. We can't predict tomorrow after all.

Did the dream disappear?

Last night

I had a dream last night.
Where I saw you walk away. Leaving me and distancing yourself.

I had a dream last night.
Where I saw you turn around and look away. Letting go of what we had.

I had a dream last night.
Where I lost your closeness. Saying goodbye to my dream of you.

A touch

A touch
Brushing my skin
Tantalizing, enticing, intoxicating

A hand
Silently resting
Upon the very centre of my desires

A kiss
Burning fiercely
Intensely drawing out my deepest needs

Shaking
Breathing quickly
Unable to contain what you wake inside me

Trembling
I need you now
To feel you closely, filling me with passion

Moaning
Shifting my body
Unable to control myself, wanting more and more

Loud screams
Sweet wild release
Explosions of emotions surging through my body

Surfing

Waves rolling over the ocean
Tall they rise up towards the sky
Trying to reach pristine white clouds

And there I ride
Upon a wave
Higher I rise
For each beat, moving forward

Forward, forward, forward
The momentum surges each crest ahead
Quickly they roll over a clear blue ocean

Pounding heart
Breathless gasps
A yell of pride
Riding upon waves of success

Towards the white beach
Each movement brings me closer
A divine goal I have sought for oh so long

A sudden tumble
Quickly falling
Deep deep down
In fear I hit the cold bottom

Whimpering in sharp pain
Climbing up to the beckoning crest
Soaked and drenched I ride another wave forward

To my beach
Of salvation
Happiness, joy
My home to be when I find you

Never giving up
I must reach that place
No matter how often I fall from the crests

Beautiful story

My life is a beautiful story.

How many people have been told that? "Your life is a beautiful story".

A friend of mine last night said that to me, and ever since that line has been stuck in my head. I've been turning it over and over, considering, tasting, feeling.

And it's true. Yes, my life is a beautiful story. It's the sort of novel that I would enjoy reading. Not because it's full of happiness and romance or anything like that. No, because it's full of struggle, fight, battle, pain, sadness, despair. And in spite of that, I keep on fighting. I keep on trying. And slowly, step by step, I win. One victory after another. Small improvements here and there, tiny things, but they all add up and it turns into a beautiful story.

Who wants to read about lives where everything is just perfect? Where everything succeeds without a struggle? Who wants to hear about one victory after another that wasn't deserved, that wasn't worked for? Who wants to just read about happiness and people being happy?

No one. Why should we read about things only being good when we can never relate to it anyway. No, we want to read about things we can relate to ourselves. We want to read about things where we can put ourselves into the shoes of the main person and say: "Hey, my life isn't that bad after all. This girl here is having a rougher time than myself. But, I know how she feels, I've been there myself. I know how it is to go through things like this."

We like to relate to other people, to find similarities, shared grounds, emotions that are alike, battles that we can compare.

My life is a beautiful story.

That thought makes me smile. I never thought of it that way before. I never viewed my life in that light. I always focused on the happy ending I wanted. I always longed for that happy ending.

And listening to my friend last night. I paused. I stopped up. I thought.

And I realized. Yes, of course I want the happy ending. But I'm sad when I'm done with a book. It's over, I can't read it any longer. I'm enjoying to read about the struggle, the battle, the explorations. It's not the ending that I enjoy reading the most.

That said, of course I want the happy ending, I enjoy the happy ending of a book. We need the hope after all. We need to have that faith that one day, once all the struggle is over with and we have conquered. Then there will be happiness and romance. Then the hero and heroine will marry and live happily ever after.

But we hold that thought close to our hearts while we read about the struggles. And we enjoy reading the story knowing that there will - perhaps, for it's only a perhaps - be a happy ending one day.

My life is a beautiful story.

Dedicated to Todd, a dear friend.

Wonder

A pause, a heartbeat, a step taken
Wonder...

To watch, observing what can't be seen
Almost touching, so close, nearly there
And yet...

Brushing soft, tender caress
Ah, this longing, strong tearing
Demanding more, more, more
To want you...

Close, so far, so close, far
Nearly there, then gone again
Quick flutters lifting up, up, up
Are you truly an imagination
Or really so real...