Friday, July 31, 2015

Why I Don't Love You





Inspired by the CW show, Jane the Virgin, I don’t want to tell you all the reasons why I love you. I want to tell you all the reasons why I don’t.

I don’t love you because you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. The first time I laid my eyes on you I lost my breath and my heart nearly leapt from my chest. From your pictures I thought you were kind ’f nerdy, a bit on the skinny side, too pretty for my taste, and not my type at all. I used to think that lightning wasn’t real and that love at first sight was the figment of an overactive imagination. But, baby, I’m still burning and finding it hard to breathe. I dream of you; you’re the star of my fantasies.

I don’t love you because you’re the smartest man I’ve ever met.  The things you say make me question some of my own core beliefs and push me to look outside my box. I don’t always agree with the ‘way’ you see the world, but I find ‘how’ you see it absolutely inspiring and amazing. I never thought I’d meet someone as thirsty for knowledge and nerdy as me. You push me to learn more, to try harder, to think stronger. I love that you often beat me in the intellectual games we play, that you disagree with me at almost every musing, and you argue with me about even the basic of understanding and enlightenment. While I hate to lose the game or the argument, I smile because it turns me on to know there’s depth behind those dark, sexy eyes.

I don’t love you because you’re the funniest man I’ve ever heard. All the jokes and videos you send me somehow arrive at the moment I need them most, usually when the world seems like it’s caving in on me and a laugh is the perfect thing I needed. It never fails – NEVER. You always seem to message me JUST when I’ve been thinking about you, like we’re tuned into the same frequency. It could be days between correspondences, but you always show up on time.

I don’t love you because you’re the most romantic man I’ve ever encountered.  The songs you send me not only move my feet, they move my heart. I’ve found myself several times with tears streaming down my face because the words, the music, the message in the songs you send are the words, music, and messages I’ve always dreamed of hearing. You may not write an epic fantasy, or a string of poetry, or a ballad to melt the heart, but you sure do know how to pick the songs like a true artist.

I don’t love you because you’re the bravest man I’ve ever known.  You’ve put your life on the line in the name of duty, without hesitation and without fear. I feel safe in your arms, so safe I keep falling asleep. For an insomniac, that’s the greatest medicine in the world. My favorite moment with you was lying in your arms, listening to your heartbeat, feeling your chest rise and fall with each breath, and your fingers gently stroked my hair as we watched television together. I fell asleep, so deeply, so comfortably, and so relaxed. The harshness of the world I’ve experienced makes that moment pure heaven to me. It was never about sex with you; it was always just you.

I don’t love you because your voice is exotic. It makes me smile when I hear the way you pronounce things, or the sound of your laughter when you find something extremely funny, or the way you sing, or the sarcasm that drips from your lips like honey. I especially don’t love you for the command and control I’ve heard in a tone that dictates authority, control, and unquestioning confidence. For someone who is never satisfied with the unanswered questions of the universe, to hear that particular sound of assurance is like ethereal music to my ears. My body reacts to your voice like a chord strummed in perfect tune – the joining of two sound waves in sync. As a safety measure, I insist on maintaining control of every aspect of my life, it’s how I protect myself. But when I’m with you I lose all control. I fumble my words, all well-laid plans vanish, my thoughts get jumbled, my resolve becomes liquid, and I betray myself and all the plans I’ve made. I no longer think of me, what I want, what I want to do, but become completely immersed in pleasing you, which in doing so, pleases me more than I ever dreamed.

I don’t love you for all those reasons listed above. I love you because I can’t imagine this world without you. Even if I can’t be with you, just knowing you exist, knowing you’re alive, knowing you’re happy is enough. I feel honored to have met you and privileged to have loved you. I know I’ll never stop loving you because you’re a part of my soul. I love you enough to let you go. Because of you, I now know amazing, passionate, and deep love really exists. I have enjoyed falling in love with you and discovering how beautiful it can be. I honestly didn’t think this kind of love existed, and accepted the imitations it’s offered me for so long. In loving you, I realize the kind of love someone once offered me, before they were taken away, was more beautiful than I ever imagined. Thank you. I never truly understood it before, but now I do.

I know what I want now, and I can’t and won’t accept anything less. The kind of love I have for you - I deserve that kind of love for myself. I want it. I want to be adored, admired, respected, wanted, desired, appreciated, and passionately loved. Part of me believes that’s impossible, a dream that’ll never happen, but before I met you – I thought you were an impossible dream too.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Monday, July 27, 2015

How Do I Say Goodbye to a Dream?



How do I say goodbye to a dream, when the dream has been better than anything I’ve ever seen? How do I say goodbye to a love, deeper than the oceans or any love that ever was?

How do I say goodbye to my heart, beating stronger when we’re together and nearly stops when we’re apart? How do I say goodbye to my breath, the very one that I lost at the very moment we met?

How do I say goodbye to a friend, who’s constant companionship I’d thought would never end?

How do I say goodbye? Where do I get the strength? I know what must be done, but I can’t even breathe. How do I say goodbye to the greatest love I’ve ever known? How do I say goodbye? How do I move on?

It’s killing me to leave you, it’s killing me to stay. I want nothing more than to run into your arms, but I must run away. How do I say goodbye to you, how, oh how, do I breathe? You are the greatest love of my life, but I really have to leave.

I can’t stay here any longer, you’re not real, you’re just a dream. You’re the devil sent to torture me, the angel to unravel my seams. Did you ever love me? Did you ever care? Or was it all just my imagination and a fool’s hat I wear?

How do I say goodbye? Where do I get the strength? I know what must be done, but I can’t even breathe. How do I say goodbye to the greatest love I’ve ever known? How do I say goodbye? How do I move on?

It was a lovely dream, and I wish I could stay. But life is calling me, it’s pulling me away. I can’t worship you any longer, and pretend that you’re mine. You belong to another and I’ve been left behind. To pick up the pieces of my broken, shattered heart, With my arms loaded with shards, down the broken road I start.

Goodbye, my dream. Goodbye, my heart. Good bye, my love. Good bye.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

Evil Video Games - Be Damned!

*Caution: This rant contains strong opinions. Weak-minded and close-minded individuals need not read any further. You've been warned.




Just in the last few days I’ve read no more than a half dozen Facebook posts linking to articles talking about the evils of kids playing video games. Yet, NONE of these articles reported any scientific facts to back up their claims, just a bunch of close-minded opinions from parents, geriatrics, naturists, and social opinionists. (Yeah, I made those last two up, but so fucking what, I’m a writer and I make up shit with my imagination.)

Before you jump down my throat and to your biased opinions, I want to warn you not to take me wrong. I’m NOT pro or anti video games, I’m just another one of those opinionists who has had the privilege to see things from both sides of the issue.

What exactly is the issue? Is gaming evil? Is our youth being corrupted by the video game industry? Are kids learning anti-social behaviors due to excessive amount of video gaming? Are we desensitizing our children to violence and corruption through video games? Is video gaming destroying marriages and dating lives?

My response: You’re the fucking parent. PARENT your children. You’re the spouse. Be the best SPOUSE possible. Quit projecting excuses of shitty relationships onto inanimate objects and activities for YOUR failures… and communicate. Quit trying to make your kids into mini models of yourself and let them discover who they are. Quit trying to force your spouse into an idealistic mold of what and who you think they should be, and let them be themselves. Did you fall in love with a person, or the idea of a person you want? Want to raise your kids right – raise them to be inquisitive. Raise them to be curious, adventurous, and exploratory. Teach them to learn, and then stand back and LET them learn, their way. Want to make a marriage work, then love the person for who THEY are and don’t be close-minded to the things that bring them joy. Try out their stuff… and encourage them to try yours… and between the two of you – find some common ground. Most of all, communicate with one another.

I play video games, and guess what? I enjoy it. Believe me, it takes skill, timing, talent, patience, determination, and dedication to become proficient with many, many, many of these games. There’s a whole gaming world out there, filled with like-minded people. Now with online gaming, chat sessions, fire-teams, and MMPG, new social skills are being developed.

As with ANYTHING, there’s always down sides, bad points, and abuse by players and non-players alike. Do you know what’s more destructive in a parent/child relationship – a parent yelling at kid, putting him down, putting down the thing he loves to do, the thing he’s excelling at, the thing perhaps his peers appreciate and applaud him for – simply because the parent doesn’t understand and they don’t take the time to find out. Because it’s different than them, their experience, or their understanding – they tear it down and look for everything negative. That’s abuse. That’s bad parenting. That’s despicable.

I watched a video of parents crying because their kids were more excited about playing video games or using their tablets than going outside and building a fort. Instead of blaming themselves that they didn’t understand their kids, didn’t know what their children were doing, surprised their kids liked something different than them, perhaps they should have taken them outside and built a fucking fort with them. I guarantee the next time that kid got into a chat with his friends, he would have been excited about telling them all about building a fort with their parents, and who knows… they may have just inspired a handful of OTHER kids to bug their parents to go outside and build fucking forts too. Instead, video games got blamed for their bad parenting. I wonder how many parents would actually take the time to go outside and build a fort with their kids? Perhaps THAT’s the answer to why some kids spend so much time on video games.

I heard a couple arguing not long ago while I was in a chat session with a fireteam during a raid. The girlfriend was in the background whining and complaining about how her boyfriend spent too much time on his video game, more time with his gaming friends than her, and that he obviously didn’t love her as much. That was an example of manipulation at its finest. This was also the same guy that often talked to us in our group, telling us of all the fun, adventurous things he and his girlfriend did all the time together, how much he loved her, how much he was trying out all the stuff she liked to do – some he liked, some he didn’t like. But his gaming time was getting less and less and less. He was a fantastic and gifted player and had dreams of playing on a MLG team, but he received no support from his family, from his friends, and now from his girlfriend. None of these ass-wipes were willing to play with him, or allow him the time to perfect his skills so he could chase his dream. In their minds, gaming wasn’t an acceptable option. Perhaps had he been a musician, writer, artist, dancer, singer, or actor he’d get the support he needed to follow his passion. Oh, wait… most of those don’t get much support either – because it’s not practical to follow an art. He’s fucked.

I don’t know why it has to be one or the other, gaming or nature, art or hobby, right or wrong. Video games are not evil. Playing video games is not evil. NOT communicating with your kids or your partner – that is what is evil and THAT is all up to each of us as an individual.

I’d love to have a relationship with a gamer, a writer, a musician, an artist, a hiker, a naturist, an adventurer, etc. I’d love to be with someone passionate about something, not some lame-assed fucker blaming everyone else for their failures, or someone who always takes the safe, practical route because it’s what’s expected. I’ve known too many of those. And… if you are one of these artists (gamers especially), perhaps the smart thing would be to choose relationships with other artists, or at least open-minded people who will understand and support your passion. If you choose a lame, close-minded traditionalist, then you can’t bitch when they bitch at you for not being just like them, or when they don’t understand you. Keep it real.

Anyway, since I saw all these blamers putting out their articles, I thought I’d put out one of my own. Bottom line: Stop blaming video games for your shitty relationship habits.

Till next time,

~KV Kvothe



*Image from: http://www.zazzle.com

Monday, July 20, 2015

It's Time





It’s time. I’ve been putting a majority of my life on hold, refusing to make any major decisions, actually panicking to do so. Not because I’m afraid of change, but because I’ve been grieving, grieving a life that once was and a dream of a life that will never be. This is part of the grieving process I find fascinating. Not in a good way, but as a point of observation and understanding. When we lose someone, or go through a major shift in our lives, we grieve the dreams that died because of the loss or the shift. I had many dreams that I’ve had to let go, and their loss broke my heart.

It’s time. It’s time to finally look at all the broken pieces and start putting them together again. I can’t remake the image that once was, but I can make something new, something beautiful, a new dream. For the longest time I didn’t want to think about a new dream, because I was still hurting over the loss of the old one, but I have to let it go and move forward. That’s how life works. I will die inside if I remain where I’m currently dwelling, because I’m just existing, I’m not living, I’m not dreaming. I’m afraid. I’m afraid to grab another dream, because what if I lose it, too? Can my heart take it? Can my soul bear any more pain? That’s been my fear, still is my fear, but fear cannot stop me. It’s time.

It’s time to pull the covers from the mirrors, to open the doors of adventure, and get back to my life. I had made so many strides forward before the detour of cancer and heartbreak interfered, but it’s time to get back to progress. Pausing causes roadblocks and complications. My life is somewhat a mess because of my inactions, my indecisions, my grieving, but it’s not hopeless. It’s time I quit existing and surviving from day to day to building a better tomorrow, to striving toward new success, new adventures, new opportunities. It’s time to get busy. It’s time to let loose the woman inside me, who for so many times and so many years made shit happen, accomplished amazing feats, and scaled mighty mountains. She’s amazing and the things she can accomplish are absolutely mind-blowing, and I’m glad to see she’s waking up and taking control. I’m so tired of hearing myself say, ‘I used to …” It’s time.

Is everything going to just magically happen, opportunities going to land at my door, miraculous blessings make all my dreams come true, love come walking through the door to sweep me off my feet? Not in my experience. No, the journey is just beginning, and every success I’ve ever enjoyed required hard work, determination, drive, energy, focus and sacrifice. It’s hard. It’s always been hard. But, it’s time.

The dreams I once had are dead; they’re gone. It’s time I start dreaming new ones. I don’t care what I used to do, what I’ve done, or what I’ve once achieved …I’m a new person. That person I used to be died along with the cancer that invaded my body and the ache that attacked my heart. Those dreams, relationships and aspirations died too. Will I do similar things I did in the past? Will I be a badass, a writer, an entrepreneur, a lover, an explorer, an agent, a gourmet cook, a fitness guru, a motivational speaker, a wife, a leader, a volunteer, etc.? I don’t know, maybe some, maybe none, but it’s time I start dreaming, and whoever I become – she’s going to be beautiful and amazing.

It’s time… it’s time to live. I’m turning 44 this week. I’m starting my life all over again. Watch out, because it’s going to be amazing.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Happiness





Happiness. Is it real? Does it really exist? What does it look like? What does it consist? What are the rules, parameters, stipulations? How can something undefined, unsolidified exist? How can something so distinctly relative and individually interpreted be definable in any common sense or in a general definition?

According to Webster’s Dictionary, happiness is the state of being happy; an experience that makes you happy. But, what is happy? Again, Merriam-Webster declares that happy is an adjective that means feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of your life, situation, etc.; showing or causing feelings of pleasure and enjoyment; pleased or glad about a particular situation, event, etc.

Well, then everyone in the world has had such moments, even the most depraved, repressed, depressed, enslaved person has at one time or another experienced such moments. But, does that make them happy?

A writer friend of mine, Tom Piccirilli, well, more or less a writer acquaintance of mine, passed away a few days ago. I had the pleasure of interviewing him last year for West Georgia Living Magazine. I think fondly on our interview, on his appreciative words about my article, on his gifts as a wonderful writer. His wife posted about his passing today on his Facebook account. My heart broke that he had finally lost his battle with cancer, but it wasn’t sadness I felt when reading his wife’s words, it was something deeper than that, something precious. I was being shown what happiness was in the midst of grief. His wife spoke of the happy years they had together. Sure they had plenty of bad times and bad moments, he battled cancer – it was tough, but they spent those times together, loving each other, supporting one another, and that is what made them happy. Bad moments couldn’t destroy their overall happiness; they didn’t matter.

I remember loving James during the most stressful time of my life, and when he died and the darkness settled in on me, that’s when I knew I had been happy right in the middle of the struggles. I have many, many happy moments with my kids: I remember playing outside in the rain with them, splashing in the mud, lying in bed telling them stories, slip-n-sliding in kitchen floor (it was my way of mopping), smack-talking during a board or card game, having Guitar Hero competitions, letting them show me how to pop waves on the jet ski, playing the clean-up-race-game, dressing up in costumes for a mid-night book release party, and so on and so forth. My kids loved me and I loved them... and I was really happy.

Things change. People grow up, lives get disrupted, and some leave this world and leave us behind. My world has changed so much in the last few years and I’ve shed quite a few tears because of it, but you know what… I’m still happy, I still know happiness, it’s just in different things and comes in different ways. It’s never in what I think it should or would be. I’m kinda lost trying to figure out who I am and where I belong. Happiness, for me, is now found in a random text, while killing aliens, in an occasional touch, in a sweet kiss, or in a simple embrace. Some days I’m so sad I can’t breathe, but even in that I find happiness.

I can’t go back and grab happiness from anything in my past. Those things don’t work for my present. I can’t sit and wait for happiness to happen, because it’s not something you can make happen, and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. It’s a present state of being, regardless of feelings, because of what is happening here and now. I’m learning happiness comes from loving and being loved… and I love very much, and am loved very much. Is it ideal, how I think I should be, or consists of what I should do, or wrapped in a way I think it should come? Does it matter? No. I can’t fit my life into the shape, the mold, or the ideal of anything other than what it is. It’s crazy. It’s odd. It’s different. It’s unconventional. It’s weird. It clashes with every group of society and I’m really sick and tired of trying to make it fit somewhere. I don’t fit in, and those strange creatures who don’t often understand why they love me, love me for all that I am. They can’t seem to get rid of me, but they can’t define me either. Doesn’t matter… as long as they love me, I’m happy.

Should I leave this world tomorrow… know that I lived today and I was happy.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Chimpalooza!


POR FIN QUIEN ES EL ANIMAL JAJAJAJA
POR MONOS
Posted by Orbita 92.9 FM on Friday, August 8, 2014

Monday, July 06, 2015

My Fourth of July Moment of Joy




Okay, while most of you were sitting on a beach, sipping on a cool drink, or having a cook out with your friends and family, my single butt spent Fourth of July sitting at home, playing on my Xbox, spending the day with my adopted family, fellow gaming clan members of Omega Victrix Mortalis. You know what? I had one of the best days I’ve had in a very, very, very long time.

Sometimes dating sucks, being single sucks, and watching the rest of the world go through the ‘family’ adventures (been there, done that, loved it, and got many tee-shirts) while you’re excluded sucks too. I’m divorced and my kids are grown – family activities are on hiatus. However, the freedom to do what I want, when I want, how I want, and with who I want is a pretty good payoff.

I had several date offers for the Fourth of July, but you know what, I didn’t want to spend my holiday with someone I barely knew. I wanted to be with family. While my natural family had other plans, some of my gamer family was online. I didn’t expect many of them to be there, since they all have families of their own, but several of them were. The mama in me wanted to yell at them to get off the game and go spend time with their families, the other part of me reasoned I wasn’t their mother, it wasn’t my job, and as their friend, decided I needed them too. I really love this group of guys and gals.

There was one moment my boys touched my heart so strongly I got choked up. I pretended my mike muted, so I could get off and go have a cry. Not sad tears, but happy ones. People come into your lives sometimes when you least expect it, and it seems they’re the right people at the right time. If you try to make things like that happen, it won’t work. You don’t see it coming together, but every once in a while you get a glimpse of the beauty of humanity.

So, what was this big moment that got me all choked up? Well… (Bear with me, I’m a writer and don’t know how to tell the simple story.) I just wanted to have a good time, and do what others would classify as a meaningless quest, and go ghost hunting for all the dead ghosts I’d previously missed in my Destiny game. There were 77 of them and I only had 51. The quest excited me, reminded me of the old Nancy Drew interactive computer games I used to play. I’d been grinding it out on Iron Banner and Prison of Elders for days and I didn’t want to do anything intense… just have a little fun. Of course, I didn’t want to do it alone, so I hopped into a party chat with some of my online clan members and friends. Well, two of my friends were having NAT issues (you guys really need to get that fixed) and couldn’t do party chat, so we found ourselves in a six-man fireteam and talking in game chat. That’s the maximum amount of people you can have in a fireteam to do POE, Raids, or Crucible. The problem … I didn’t need to do any of those and the maximum fire-team was three for a simple patrol. (Bungie – you really need to allow bigger fireteams in all areas of the game.) I didn’t want to break off into a team of three, because the six of us (Phoenix, Rev, Hi Power, Noizy, & Jallak) were having fun together discussing current events, politics, jokes, game strategies, weapons, armor, and life in general. So, while on Venus, we started the VOG Raid, but didn’t actually do it, but just stayed together in a fireteam of six as we explored the planet. Those guys spent the next hour or two with me helping me find my ghosts and just goofing off.

Those times just hanging out together, those are the best times. We work great together as a clan not just completing the tasks we need (Raids, Strikes, Missions, Quests, Crucible, Bounties, Farming, Trials (not me) and Prison of Elders), but also hanging out and having fun. I’m the player I am today because of them. Our clan isn’t about being the best player at the game, though the guys in my clan ARE some of the best players in this game, but it’s about sharing something we all enjoy while at the same time enjoying each other’s company.

These guys and gals are my family now. I care about each and every one of them. Some people just come on to play the game, and that’s all good and well. But, I play the game to be with my family, to not be so alone, to spend time with people that actually care about me. I may not have spent my Fourth of July drinking, partying, or cooking out with friends and family, or on an awkward date, nor did I see a single firework, but I had a very wonderful day surrounded by friends and family who love me and who I love very much… Oh, and I found all my ghosts.

I cried, because in that moment I realized I was a very lucky girl and I was genuinely happy.

Till next time,

~KV Kvothe

(btw – I pronounce my gamertag Kvothe as… Kah-voth-ee)

Jameson - Zella Day



*Words in italics – Song lyrics to Jameson  - by Zella Day  *Go out and buy this song!!!

This song really breaks my heart.  According to an interview with Zella Day in LA Times, she states, “I've never really written a song like that. It's about falling for an alcoholic. It has this hopelessness, but at the same time there's this light at the end of the tunnel, so there's this sort of weird war. It's kind of like love, but being in love with something you can't have because something [else] already has it."

For me, this song is about loving someone you can’t have, someone that’s gone or with someone else, and the war inside is one of bargaining and pleading to let go, but being unable.  It’s all five stages of grief. 

I remember the stage of negotiation, begging God to change a difficult situation, and being completely helpless to change anything.  The only choice left was to face the pain, acceptance, but it was the kind of pain that couldn’t be faced at once.  I remember when my fiancĂ© was deployed to Somalia.  He’d been deployed a few times before, but all those other times he wasn’t mine.  This time, he was my hero, my love, and he took my heart with them.  Many nights trying to get through the day, I’d stare into the stars.  I’d bargain with God to bring my soldier home. I remember saying the words aloud, “The world doesn’t need him like I do, please just bring him back to me.”

Words are meant to be taught.

My hero didn’t come home.  My bargaining didn’t stop with his death.  The only thing that changed were my prayers.  “Please God, you don’t need him like I do, send him back to me.”  When that didn’t work, I told myself every day I was okay, but I wasn’t.  I hid inside middle class morality and wore my mask of obedient compliance and contentment,  yet inside cried and battled a pain that wouldn’t go away.

Love’s not meant to be lost.
You said that if I’m happy you’re cured,
But I’m not.

I thought I’d never feel fire again.  I had loved others, but my soul hadn’t danced in more than twenty years, not until I met a particular soldier.  By all common sense and practicality he wasn’t what I thought I wanted or needed in my life.  I tried to run, to hide, to not love him, but my heart betrayed me.  I tried so hard to be indifferent,  to build my walls, to pretend I didn’t care.  I knew the moment I met him he’d break my heart. I was scared more than I’d ever been. I don’t know if it was because I pushed him away, or he just never felt the same fire, we got stuck and ended up in the friend zone.

I know you have a delicate fate,
You’re a quiet man, but in the worst way,
I’m not a follower and I won’t follow you down

He went on to love another.  I stopped breathing the day I found out he got married. I felt my heart stop. Then the bargaining and war between my heart and head enraged as I became the other woman.

Oh, Jameson, you’ve had your fun, stop holding him I want to be the one.
I promise you, I’ll treat him right, don’t want to fight. You don’t need him like I do.

It was supposed to be a zone of safety, getting to enjoy all the good of him, but safe from me getting my heart broke. Instead, I grew to love him even more, to love his mind, his heart, his courage, his sense of humor, all of his stupid little philosophies.  I tried to find that fire in another set of eyes, another pair of hands, another heart – but it was him I was looking for in every smiling face staring back at me.  He was my last thought before I closed my eyes and the first when I woke, and often the star of my dreams.  So many nights I fell asleep on a damp pillow and stumbled through the day hiding wet eyes behind a smile and a pair of glasses.

I waited in the street outside, sat in my car till my tears dried.
I’m justifying people with pain, tonight.

It’s so easy to say ‘just turn it off’, but I’m finding that’s impossible.  The right thing would be to move one, to forget the past, to open my heart to someone new.   That’s what my head says all the time.  My heart …well, my heart is an idiot. The world has their judgments, and has found me guilty.  Many would say I deserve the pain I feel because I dared to love another woman’s man. I loved him first.  I’m my greatest accuser; my harshest judge, but I have no shame for loving him.

I watched your fingers point at the blame, it’s the darkest of gray when you explain.
I’m not a follower, I won’t follow you down.

I have no right to be angry - not at her, not at him , not even at myself.  She’s just a woman who fell in love with a man.  She’s no different than me, except he loved her back and chose her.  While my heart wants what it wants, I have to learn to survive, I have to learn to heal. I have to learn to breathe again.  Denial, anger, bargaining, depression… acceptance.

Oh, Jameson, you’ve had your fun, stop holding him I want to be the one.
I promise you, I’ll treat him right, don’t want to fight. You don’t need him like I do.

I have no choice.  I have to move on.  I have to breathe.  How does one exist without their heart? One day at a time.  I’ve since had many opportunities to give my heart away. I’ve had proposals and offers for rational, practical relationships – but I won’t settle for anything less than the hottest of fires.

I know I’ll be okay.  Don’t tell me where or which way you go.
Find someone else to take my place.  You want me, but treat me like you don’t.

Oh, Jameson, go have your fun, keep holding him if he’s really the one.  Just promise me you’ll treat him right, don’t want to fight, and need him like I did.

My hope is to love again, and that it not take 20 years for my heart to heal. I deserve someone who will love me, completely, as I love them.  The man who finally gets my heart is going to be a very lucky man, because I already know that I’ll love him with such deep devotion … something beyond my comprehension… something more than words can contain.  How do I know?  I know… because I’ve already done it twice.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray