Sometimes I feel like a burnout playing pretend. They gave us makeup as little girls to learn to cover things up. I think by now I’ve become a pro. I have such a unique past and it’s not that it’s haunting me. It’s that it is me. I am a combination of all things good and bad, happy and sad, disappointing and full of potential. I like milkshakes and movies, expensive jewelry and some designers. I set a good example to little kids. I have very classy taste. Yet the part of me that lives in the darkness craving poisonous substances cries out ever so slightly. And having an addictive personality doesn’t make it any easier. I like something and I consume it consistently until it makes me sick. I want the white house and blue shutters with a porch overlooking the lake. And a room so I can paint. But when reality hits it snaps its fingers and slowly disintegrates my happy go lucky fantasy of my future.

Why is life so beautiful and yet so hard? I want things to be smooth sailing after years of hardship, is that so wrong? To want joy after pain, a decade of pure sunshine after decades of rain. I love you but I want more than just words. I deserve change. I want flowers and I want them pure. I want diamonds and I want them hard. I want the ocean and I want it clear. I deserve a better life than the one we have now. Grateful for the one we got, sure. But I will always want more.

I know how to fake happy pretty well. If I smile with my teeth and suck in my cheeks I can show you these adorable holes in my face. They mask the holes in my heart. I can do it without my teeth too. I can twirl around, throw my hands up and exhale all my pain, and you’ll never even know how much remains. Life has been quite the act. If I don’t plan, primp, put pen to paper or play, I’ll always have a frown. Is all this really true? Ask yourself how well do you know you. I’ve known me since I was 3. Imagining a helicopter above me here to rescue and repurpose me into a new reality. A better one. Where everything is happy including me.

What misery to be missioned with fake happy at 3. But don’t worry I’ve gotten so good at it now it’s become my superpower, and happy is my disguise. I can push my feelings down really really far and pull out something called “the bright side”. It’s where I’ll do everything in my power make anything or anyone feel better for as long as possible, seemingly.

There’s just one rule, never ever let anyone see me without my disguise. Or else, things will never be the same. I should know it happened once, and now my power relies on prescription. Who knew doctors could make pills smell like cake. I guess somehow they knew I have a very important job to keep the party going. The show must go on.

And on and on.

Love is both an act and desire to protect others from pain. Its wanting to spread joy and show comfort, it’s a choice after experiencing hardship in relationships. It’s present on a playground, at first sight and felt at first touch, a consensual, and finally unguarded one. Love is the greatest weapon against evil thoughts and energies. Every breath we take is an act of love, maybe even mercy. For me it’s surrender. Love is omnipresent even if we can’t see or feel it. In my darkest hours love has always made its way to me, to remind me I’m not alone. And in doing so love surrounds me, embraces me and renews if vow to protect me. I believe in love and that it’s here to guide our paths, replenish our hearts and nourish our souls. We only need to let it in, a little at a time. As much as we possibly can.

Do the beauties of life outweigh the discomfort. I feel trapped by both death and life. They say the dead envy the living so why do I envy the dead. How can I envy the dead without knowing their experience. When the dead knows what they’ll be missing: The touch of a loved one. The smell of fresh lillies. The warmth of the sun. I know what I’d miss most the sound of your voice and the waves on the beach. My therapist tells me people have babies and pets because they make life joyful and easier to bear. But I can’t bear the acceptance that life is something we must bear. The pain is too much. The monotony of everyday life and routine. Who created this system? Am I foolish or selfish for envying the dead. My mother say the dead know nothing, and that scares me more than suffering. Being conscious of nothingness and my thoughts forever thinking “what have I done”. I fear that most than suffering pain everyday. Thank God it’s not everyday. Luckily there are things and people who make life more bearable. Until that final day of nothingness. Maybe this is why we have heaven. It has to be.

What would happen if I wait for you? Would you chase me? Would you never let me go? Would you follow me? Would you remember me? Would I be worth the trouble to message me first? Would you invite me in? Would you tell me a joke and share my sin. Can I come in? I won’t bite. I promise I’ll be nice but I’ll always be honest. One way or another I’ll always be your lover. That my darling I promise.

I don’t wanna apologize away my feelings anymore. I’m really happy to have you in my life. I just don’t know what to do sometimes because I feel like I’ve been depressed for decades and decades. I’ve only mastered covering it up. But with you I can’t hide my facial expressions and I physically cannot cover up my emotions. Because with you I wanna be completely honest, I need to be, because you love me. And love has always been difficult for me but I say it to you because you make me feel complete. Its just sometimes when I don’t feel desired I take it very personally. But I’m very grateful for you because I can’t imagine how exhausting it is to love me yet you continue to do it anyway. I love you because I choose to and no matter how depressed I feel I’m always happy to hear your voice and even the static on the other line when you’re honoring the silence in between as I vent. I know nothing else stronger than you. A daily dose of you is always my perfect prescription. You’re just what I need because I always feel better when I feel your warmth, in your words, when we huggle and cuddle. I snuggle in your neck, so happy that you’re mine.

It’s okay to worry about myself and care about my self and my feelings and my health and my safety and my mental well being and physical health. It’s okay to care about me. I am allowed to care about me. I am allowed to focus on me and my well being. Maybe I’ll take a class by myself and take myself to the movies. I am allowed to date myself even though I am in a relationship. I am allowed to treat myself to dinner with myself as company out in public. I am free and allowed to be free and feel free as I did when I was young. I am magic embodied in a celestial being. I am wonderfully made. Love sets me free emotionally and mentally and physically and spiritually. My worthiness is infinite. My worth is multidimensional and omnipresent. My experiences matter. And my desire for love is abundantly fulfilled.

Happiness doesn’t last very long in my brain. I’m working on that. It’s pain that begets the most passion in me. I’ve always been afraid of that becoming my identity. Good moments aren’t notorious for sticking around. But painful memories have a special knack for lasting longer than desired. Am I just human or am I forever jaded? Or is it human to believe I’m forever jaded. Ignorant to what beauty the future holds that would change me forever and free me from a haunting past. “In due time my love” you say as I restlessly await to birth and experience these beautiful moments. My happy place; feeling satisfied being old with you and sitting on our back porch watching the sunset. And after I close my eyes and feel the wind caress my face, I smile and recall those moments. My core memories that we made.

If I had only known love where there was pain how could I know love without it? I have felt pain without love for most of my life, so how can I be expected to know it’s adversary. Living in constant painful fear without knowing unconditional love, how can I be expected to know when it is real. Will I just know, will it dawn on me, will it be overwhelmingly obvious and proud and unmistakable? What will I do in the face of love— Reject it? Welcome it? Fear it? Question it? Doubt it? Judge it? Accuse it’s legitimacy? What will be the simplest yet most honest of reactions in the face of pure and utter love?

A simple wave might be a good place to start. To greet it with kindness and purity of heart. With a smile, I express my utmost gratitude for its offering and allow it to remain in my life as a simple beacon of hope. While I develop the strength to receive its truth, I shall rewrite mine with only thoughts of you.

My true love. Thank you for smiling back and holding me close.