By Joshua Blake
I usually have a picture to accompany my posts – but not today. Today, I want to be a bit more reserved.
I’ve got therapy later today, I can register for my classes for next semester, and a little over a month from now, I’ll see Anette. Things are looking pretty well to me but, my time-management still sucks. Oh well. I guess I can’t have it all. It’s 3:30 in-the-morning and I’m up writing.
That’s because I miss it – writing, I mean. I miss the comfort it gave me. The closure. The knowledge. I used to write everyday until I had a mental breakdown due to the loneliness and the heartache I caused for my yearning soul. Crying out Love’s name by writing her a message in a book doesn’t garner results. I was lucky enough to meet Anette through mere chance – chance of fate, fate of chance – and it’s taught me an important lesson: never give up hope.
Love is a weird thing. A powerful thing, but a weird thing. It gives you a sense of power – within yourself – courageousness, empathy, understanding, happiness, communication, and trust. I used to be afraid of love to the extent where if I talked about it, by any means, I’d have cursed my tormented spirit, on the possibility that I’d never find it, or it would never find me.
Gone are the days of sleepless nights – for the most part – and fear over how I appeared to others. Gone are the nights of sorrowful mornings, bedridden and feeling like a castaway, having no home anywhere on this planet. Gone are my fears of never being able to amount to anything, or be a productive member of society. Gone are my worries over whether people cared about me.
So, now what?
And with that, I make my departure. No longer sad or loathsome over what I don’t have, and grateful for everything that I do have. My parents, my brother, my grandparents, my friends, my music, my love, and myself. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without them.