Rushing into Nothing

Another quick episode.  Yes, it may not be mania but my mind sure runs fast on nights like these.  All I can think about is everything that's been on my mind for the last few days.  Everything runs fast while my mouth yawns wide.

I begin to sense the tears of a gradually approaching sleep that may somehow arrive suddenly.

I forget that sometimes the child sitting in the chair in front of me is me.  I sometimes forget that eliminating all traces of judgment is not just being generally vague.  It's also not quite possible in this fleshly mind.  I cannot be completely free from bias.  I am sitting across from me.  I am the sad, the downtrodden and depressed.  I am the confused, alone, and isolated.  I am the faces that struggle to make eye contact because they're not ready to face their fears.  I am the hidden frown beneath the nervous laugh.  Why can't I see myself?

Why is my goal to be free from bias?  Life and work, and social work in particular, are more than ethics.  People are not numbers and statistics.  In the same way that I do not wish to be morphed into a number, neither do those that sit on the other side.  I am more than just a voice box and they are more than just sponges.  I must give them more credit than I have.  They are former, future, and present me.  Perhaps I have been shame, maybe I've been a blank wall, and I don't know what I've been most of all.

What am I other than a slightly larger lump above my sheets?  I only do what others ask.  When my soul or stomach reach for something my superego smacks my arm away.  I'm something short of nothing and jogging slowly in place.  Not even jogging, I'm sleepwalking to nowhere.  I'm not sure I could even make it there.  Where will any of this even go?

Dear Google and the world beyond me, the future without me and the people that read me,
     I do not know the significance here.  I'm not sure why some of this rambling continues.  I fall asleep with my eyes open.  Meanwhile my waking hours are spent with my eyes closed to the world around me.  I don't show myself the time of day.  I disappear into the background of my life as others look through me like wax paper.  I'm not quite transparent but they can see some form beyond me.

Do you trust me?  Will you let me hold you, know you?  Will you take me to the place where we can fall asleep together and wake up in each other's dreams?  How do we get there?  Can we even go back?

Maybe some day is sometimes somehow today

I'm a new thing.  A soul in repair or under construction.  I'm in between nap time and nighttime.  I'm learning to be present today rather than dreading tomorrow or regretting yesterday.  I'm not perfect, (far from it) but I'm trying.  I'm not trying to be perfect, just trying to be more in the moment than I often am.

Because waiting five years for everything to remain the same including my heart and her name is erasing the precious present moment.  Why does my heart look longingly in her direction?  The fresh perspectives, the different stories.  There is just something there and I can't quite taste what it is.  I may have mentioned this before, but I do not think it is the fondness born in absence because I recall the memories of who we are and how we are in the moments together.

Is it too much to ask to just be able to hold your hand for a moment?  To be able to sit quietly with you under the stars?  The thoughts you expel from your head move me.  You hardly speak and my heart falls into your lap.  Barely a word leaves your mouth and it's all somehow enough to keep me intrigued.  Even the so-called "depressive" thoughts open me up to something further.  Can we just try something?  Can we try it some time?

Five years is too long to wait.  That's almost as long as it's been since we first met and barely longer than the last time we saw each other in person.  We can take turns cradling each other in open arms.  Your innovative thoughts tuck me in at night in the best way imaginable.  Your words ignite filaments in the lightbulbs above my head.  They restore ink to my once dried pen.

I know you're not the reason for all of this world.  I know there is life outside of you.  I know you're not a goddess.  You're not to be worshipped, but would you give me a chance to be present with you.  Let me follow you around as you step through challenges and successes.  Can we share life together at some point?  Is it possible to see you for longer than a couple of days?  Is it possible for the extent of our relationship to be more than passing tourists on vacation?

I want to experience your presence and know who you really are.  I want to know you truly.  Will you ever give me the chance?