Go on, crybaby

I am most free when I am alone and the melancholy sonnets play. I dance into forever and dissipate into eternity where bursts of misunderstood genius unbridle themselves. Leaving reality to be far more trite and damning than anything else. This space is just for me. I grasp it dearly and merge into solitude. How could I open this up to the world? Prying eyes and shallow opinions that obscure depths deemed unknown. It is precious to me. I am finding that my soul, my very essence, won’t be fulfilled unless I leap into this madness and open its arms to those far and wide. From horizon to ocean’s cusp, I share to thee the most vulnerable pieces of me. Naked. And at times, I wish I didn’t have a lump in my throat as I unravel. I once thought of this as anxiety, fear, doubt. And to some extent, it is. Yet, I know now that beneath it all is a jovial beam that is aching to careen across the curious lenses of strangers. Like you. I hold my breath. I can’t believe I am saying this. Funny thing is that there may be someone out there. Beyond the moons and crepuscular havens the infinite is riddled with, there is someone who feels the same way. I hope that they push their beam out in all that they do. Despite the uncomfortable nudity it provokes, I hope they’ve always been perfectly out of place. I hope for you as much as I hope for me. Even if you are a figment of this emotive gaze I’m swooning within, I find comfort believing in that mirroring of me that reflects a layer of you. If I do ever have to confront this belief in a mirage of you...

If I jump over the deafening silence in the room…

If I stop to pick up the pin that dropped across the room… 

Only the heartbeat that is my own and the trembling hands that reach for the elements that go untouched will faze me. 

Unfathomed. 

Underexplored. 

Whether you’re here or there, I guess for the lonely hearts, the answer remains unsaid. I dance again for the crazy. For the worried. For the lost. For the scared. I know the feeling. I go there from time to time. Now, I'd like to think I hope for more. I believe in more. I am uncomfortable more. I die a bit every time I experience the life I am meant to. The lump in your throat never goes away. The fear in your tummy still lurks for those weaker days. The trembling nerves will find a way to still leak into you. It took me a while to realize that the buildup was either for my debilitation or elevation. But I had to be certain of one. If you are reading this, then I'm guessing you know which one I chose.