Conversations With Him

Man, I wish you were still here. There is so much I have to ask you about what to do from this point on. Maybe it was meant to be like this. Did you want me to write more? You had to have known about some bigger plan because this is just bullshit. I always knew you were brilliant. You know, I haven’t really written since my mom got cancer. I know I have to write about that. I think I will write to you and then share it with the masses. People need to hear they are not alone. I have so many feelings about everything right now. You know I try to distract, try to turn my brain off one thing and then on to something else. Have I always done that? I think so. Anyways, you just needed to get the hell out of here, didn’t you? I get it. Really, I do.

Right now I have this beautifully broken human on my mind. From the moment I met him, I felt like I understood him. I think you would have felt like that too and I bet you have before. He has the kind of hurt that you just want to reach out and touch because in a crazy way, it soothes you. It’s almost like when you lived out in the suburbs and you gave me aloe so I could put it on my sunburn. I was a mess. I remember feeling like I was no longer a part of my body. Well, this situation, this human, kind of feels like that too. He soothed me while I disappeared into him, away from all the pain I felt and I soothed him because I made sense in his brain for small blips of time. I wrote about what I felt, or I guess how I feel, want to read it?

“your draw is so real

it pulls me in and my heart beats faster

then it disappears

and my insides ache

your draw is so real

it consumes me in one moment
as if, at the same time

at least in my head

we are piecing one another together again

i imagine you have thought these same thoughts

because your draw is so real

but then, in the next moment

your beautifully broken self is somewhere else

hurting and aching for a feeling

of being far away from any feeling

in essence, still a feeling

but of nothing real

surely nothing i could have offered you

what kind of feeling did you want?

anyways, i just find myself here

wondering if you remember what sand feels like between the sheets

So, G, do you think he remembers?

I bet you would say that he does remember, but he remembers it like a pizza burn.

I would laugh a little at such a thought and urge you to elaborate. You know, the kind of fucked up, satisfying burn you get because you are so hungry for sustenance, for something to fill you, that you choose to eat quickly and then you feel the pain after the act. You were always so good with words, with metaphors. You always understood the deep of me that no one could quite grasp. Is it because you were sad too?

So, what’s the lesson here? Is it not to get heart heavy with hurt people? No, that’s too easy. Is it to stay away from the people who have broken hearts? No, we all have a broken heart sometimes. I think you would simply tell me that it happens. That this, this pain, this ache, this feeling is just part of the journey to understanding our own self, our own needs and our own pain. I know that you would tell me to get to know myself, my deep down, aching, hurting, broken self and try to understand that sometimes I simply need to be extra gentle.

A conversation with you over some exotic food and red wine would leave me knowing that it is okay to love broken hearts and even to love with a broken heart, to want to heal, to desire the ability to fix and to ride the beautiful waves of energy that only certain people can give you in this life. But also that it is also okay to walk away when you are no longer being fed with the same energy you first found. You would remind me how damn important it is to always be fed and to never be left hungry, aching.
Yet, before I would reach this painful but true conclusion, I would look at you with tears in my eyes, pleading with you and begging you to tell me how someone can possibly walk away from another person when they feel so deeply. You would tell me that sometimes, in this life, we have to move on in order to move forward on our own journey. You would remind me of all the love I have bottled up inside of me ready to give to someone who will take it all into their heart and use it to give love right back to me. You would tell me I have always been my own hero and I will always be my own hero. You would tell me of your (many) failed relationships, but you would also be sure to let me know that your heart always got bigger when you chose to walk away alone. Most of all, you would keep telling me that my tender heart was a good heart.

I would look you in the eyes and wish my soft heart away because it felt too much. You would look right back at me and you would tell me to stop, to hear the words I was saying and to take them right back. You would tell me to never wish away a soft heart because not many people know what it is like to feel the hurt of strangers, the pain of the seasons as they change or the deep struggle of lost cities as they evolve over time. I would ask you if you practiced that speech in front of the mirror. You would call me a smart ass and tell me you did not, rather I inspired you. I would never really know the truth, but I would feel special. I always felt like your words were meant for me. Yet, I also knew you wanted me to share your “napkin notes” (as you used to call them) with other people who needed wisdom. You always dug the spotlight. So, here you go, I am sharing what I know you would say to me. You gave me enough of you to be me and enough of you to make you proud and enough of you to share with other people who very well may have the same questions as I have about how to navigate this bright universe.

World, stay tuned. You lost a brilliant person this year and I lost my uncle, one of the most important humans in my life, but I have close to 29 years of his genius to share. My conversations with him are now conversations with you. Sit back, open your mind and your heart and take it all in. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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